Read Just One Night: Part 2 for Free Online

yet she’s looking up at the ceiling. I cast my gaze heavenward to see if I’ve missed something important, but all I see are mouldings and a chandelier. Perhaps she’s keen on faceted crystal. I recall her dress selection having several blinky things sewn to it.
    “Put on your happy face, brother, and help me land this fish.”
    “She’s not a fish,” I say, instantly annoyed with my brother’s put-on adolescent humor. He loves to do this for the sole purpose of getting under my skin.
    “Touchy, touchy,” he says, just before lifting his glass and holding it out to the approaching ladies. “Good evening. We meet again.” His eyes are first on the blond and then on Jennifer. I move to the side and step on his toe.
    “Och , watch it, graceful,” he says, scowling at me. Then he’s back to smiling. “Fancy a glass of the sparkly stuff?” he asks them both.
    I catch Jennifer shaking her head no out of the corner of my eye. That chandelier is quite lovely.
    “My friend is only drinking wine,” says the second girl. “She’s allergic to champagne.”
    “Allergic?” I ask, before I can stop myself. I stare at the blond, focusing on her so I won’t be caught gobsmacked in front of the woman I was never supposed to see again.
    “Crazy, right? She and I met when she tossed her drink right down my dress about ten years ago.”
    “You’d think I would learn,” Jennifer says, laughing with a slightly shrill tone.
    “Yes, right. So, beautiful lady, fancy a turn about the room?” Edward asks, holding out his elbow.
    Everyone one of us but him freezes, looking at him. It’s not clear who he means to take him up on his offer. Please don’t take his arm, Jennifer. Don’t do it.
    “Well, don’t everyone leap at once,” he says, put out. “I’m not a leper, I promise.”
    “Take care of her for me,” Mia says to me, sticking her arm through Edward’s proffered elbow. “And make sure she doesn’t drink any champagne.” She’s gone with Edward in tow before I can even blink my eyes.
    An awkward silence ensues.
    “Nice chandalier ,” I say, affecting a French accent for the last word. If I could slap myself without looking the lunatic, I would. For some reason I slip into French when I’m at the outer limits of nervousness.
    “What?” she asks, as well she should. I’m ready for the loony bin with only one sentence between us.
    “The large lighting fixture above our heads. Grand, isn’t it?” Burning cheeks is not a sensation I’m well familiar with. Perhaps I’m coming down with a fever.
    “Yes. It’s nice. And big.”
    A lightening quick glance at her face tells me she regrets the choice of words as much as I wish they were intentional.
    “Oh, sod it,” I say under my breath, looking over at the cheese cubes. Building my nerve takes monumental effort. I want to kiss this woman. I shouldn’t, but I do. There. I’ve said it to myself. Now I just need to say it aloud.
    A waiter hands her a glass of red wine as he passes by.
    “Excuse me?” she asks.
    “Sorry?” I finally look at her. Really look at her. She is simply breathtaking. My memory did not do her justice this past week. John Thomas has come alive in my trousers, making me long for the jacket I’ve left with the coat check girl.
    “Why are you apologizing?”
    Is that a hint of a smile I see? “Pardon?”
    “Oh, so I’m pardoning you now.” She tilts her head. “Whatever have you done to need an official pardon?”
    Thank the Queen Mother and all her blessed princelings, she’s joking with me. Perhaps this isn’t such a disaster after all.
    “Many, many things,” I say, “but none of which I will admit to.”
    She stares at the floor, letting the silence come over us once again.
    “I say …” My mouth has once again taken charge of the evening, “you haven’t seen a girl walking around with a single shoe have you?”
    She looks up, her expression too confusing for me to interpret. “Why do you ask?”
    I