Keeping the Pieces

by Brenda Lowder

  He closed the distance between them in two long strides. He slid his hands over her hips, and the silk fabric of her dress slipped like water against his palms. He backed her up against the wall.

  “Hello there,” he whispered into her hair. The sweet floral notes of her perfume teased his nose, stirring memories of last night. He leaned in to kiss her.

  “Derek,” she breathed on his lips before he got there. “Sorry.” She stepped out of his arms, leaving him propped against the wall alone. Glancing away, she didn’t look happy to see him.

  He stood up straight and adjusted his tie.

  “What’s the matter?” He kept his tone neutral. He didn’t need to remind her that scant hours ago they were kissing in his car. Her heightened color said she remembered.

  She gave a little cough before squaring her shoulders and meeting his eye.

  “Things are different now. You. Me. Us.” She gestured between them, a sudden hard line settling on her brow. “We’re not a good idea after all.”

  Derek froze, a sick feeling creeping into his gut. To hell with neutrality.

  “What do you mean? What’s happened?” He moved toward her. She stepped back.

  He took a deep breath and shook his head at Honey’s complete one-eighty. What could have happened in the last eighteen hours to throw up so much distance between them?

  He raised his arm to run his hand through his hair but thought better of it when his jacket sleeve squeezed like a blood-pressure cuff. He felt like the Incredible Hulk. One uptick in rage right now and the seams of his borrowed suit would split, his muscles bulging through the fabric, leaving Cole’s jacket in ribbons.

  “I’m sorry, Derek. I’m truly sorry.” There was real regret in her eyes. Derek’s chest tightened.

  “Sorry?” he repeated.

  “I wasn’t thinking last night.” She heaved a sigh, glanced at him, then looked off down the hallway.

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t start thinking now,” he said before he could stop himself.

  Her full lips pressed into a straight line. “I’m sorry, Derek.” She turned and walked away.

  Derek shook his head and followed the corridor, taking the first right he came to. He needed several drinks now. More chafed him than just his suit.

  Chapter Three

  Emma surveyed the crowded room, searching for Cam. He wasn’t hard to find, two feet from the stage, towering at least half a head taller than the men around him.

  Cam threw his head back and laughed at something one of his fraternity brothers said. The light sought him out and illuminated him in a golden haze. Emma’s heart squeezed, and she lifted her fingers to her mouth, tracing the lips that had been on his last night. The heat of his breath lingered against her mouth, the weight of his arms around her lower back, the feeling that, from that moment forward, they were forging their future together.

  The boat rocked, and the floor dipped. She stood on her toes, straining to keep Cam in sight. Her satin heels slid on the polished floor. She threw her arms out to the sides, just managing to keep herself from falling. She looked down and hauled up the top of her gown. Would the safety pin even have helped?

  Someone sang “I Only Have Eyes for You” close to her ear. She spun around to see her coworker, Suellen Temple, smiling over a strawberry margarita. Suellen nodded in Cam’s direction and played with the straw in her drink.

  “Is he ever going to get a clue?” Suellen frowned at Cam who was gesticulating wildly to one of his work buddies, probably reenacting the game-winning basket Cam had sunk at the last unofficial office basketball game.

  “I think he’s found one.” Emma’s smile squeezed into the apples of her cheeks, and she could feel herself blush.

  Suellen raised her eyebrows and glided closer, lipstick-stained glass held aloft, expression suddenly giddy. “Finally! Quick, details, details!”

  Emma didn’t want to tell anyone. She wanted to hug this fragile golden feeling to herself. But before she could voice a response, Suellen squealed.

  “Emma, are you wet?”

  A glance at Suellen’s alarmed face made Emma hasten to reassure her. “I fell into the water when I was boarding.”

  “Whew!” Suellen laughed with relief. “I didn’t think you’d stand there peeing, but you never know. You’re so excited about Cam and all.”

  Emma gave her a look. “No, I’m not standing here peeing. Really. And I do think that’s something you can know.” And Suellen wondered why she had trouble keeping friends.

  Suellen laughed again. “You’re hilarious.” She took a sip of her drink. “But what else is going on with your dress?” She gestured to the top, then bottom, then made a general circle to include the whole disaster. “Your ensemble is a bit edgier than your usual wardrobe choices.” She looked pointedly at Emma’s falling bustline and wiggled her eyebrows.

  “It’s Angela’s dress.”

  Suellen clucked with sympathy. She knew all about Emma’s cousin’s bridesmaid habit. She’d even borrowed a particularly fluffy number to wear to an eighties party.

  “You should make sure Cam gets a peek at those.” She cast an admiring glance at Emma’s cleavage. “Though haven’t you always said Cam was more of an ass-man?”

  Emma took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “Oh, I’ve got that covered too.” She turned around and treated Suellen to a look at her backside. “You don’t happen to have a safety pin or a needle and thread on you, do you?”

  Suellen shook her head. “Sorry.”

  Emma shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s growing on me. Maybe the universe is telling me I need to put myself out there more—inside and out.”

  “Wow!” Suellen gave her a wide-eyed look of admiration. “I like your confidence. Can I be you when I grow up?”

  “Ooh, are we telling secrets?” Nathan from Sales came up behind Suellen and put his hand on her back. He leaned into their tight circle of two.

  The giddy look returned to Suellen’s eyes. She was developing a crush on the new employee. Emma hadn’t told her yet she suspected he might be gay.

  “Nope!” Emma had no desire to discuss her love life with the new guy. “And I’ve got to mingle. Catch up to you both later.”

  As she walked away, she thought she heard Nathan comment on her wardrobe malfunction. Bad news for Suellen since the fact he noticed added evidence to the case that he wasn’t straight.

  She decided not to think about Suellen or Nathan or her wardrobe deficiencies. She’d be confident. Poised. Present. There were beautiful women all over the world who were show-stopping wearing nothing but rags or a paper bag. It was all in the attitude. And with Cam moving their relationship forward, Emma could finally afford some attitude.

  One of the tuxedoed waiters paused in front of her, silently proffering champagne. She traded her empty glass for a full one. She needed something to do besides wrestle her dress and obsess over Cam.

  Cam.

  Sighing, she sipped the shimmering liquid. Tiny bubbles popped on her tongue. The first taste went straight to her head and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She’d had to skip breakfast since she’d overslept and had only barely made the more-than-four-hour drive from Atlanta to Savannah in time for Cam’s birthday party.

  She’d overslept her alarm. How had Cam managed not to? After they’d said goodnight she was up half the night thinking about him. And those kisses.

  Although she’d imagined it a thousand times, when he’d leaned over and kissed her, she’d still been surprised. They’d spent most of the night working on the Leaves & Lemons Organics account at Earth Drinks, the soft drink company where they’d worked together since college. When they’d finally arrived at the perfect idea for the new display design, they were ecstatic. At the moment of their triumph is when he’d kissed her. Everything was coming together for them.

  This was it. The finish line to Cam.

  She strode past an ex-boyfriend and snapped her head the other way before he
saw her. They’d dated briefly, and she didn’t want to be forced to make awkward conversation with him. Not that there was anything wrong with him. They’d just sort of…fizzled. He wasn’t Cam.

  None of the other guys she’d dated over the years had rivaled Cam. Over and over, her heart returned to him because it never really left him.

  She tilted the champagne flute back and licked the last drop from her lips. She grabbed another glass from a passing server and made her way as close to Cam as the fawning partygoers would allow.

  The band played a slow song she didn’t know, but no one danced. Instead people were crowded into clumps and clusters. Bits of their conversations floated around her:

  “…no, that was our first adoption. Our second child is from Addis Ababa…”

  “…and seriously, why wouldn’t you just tell your parents you’re not going to Turks and Caicos this year? She’s not a child.”

  “…you have to give back somehow. That’s why I donate to the zoo. The animals are so innocent. Not pretending to be homeless just so you’ll give them money like all those vagrants you see downtown…”

  Emma shook her head. Rich people. Thank goodness Cam wasn’t like that. He was remarkably grounded given his parents’ money. He refused to rely on them. He got his own job, made his own money, paid his own bills. His parents could have made things easy for him, but he didn’t want them to. Emma’s heart warmed in her chest just thinking about him. Her eyes sought his across the crowded room, but he was faced away from her, watching the band.

  Emma inched in his direction, but before she’d taken three steps forward, she froze. Honey Covington glided to his side, put her hand on his silk-shirted chest, and smiled up at him.

  Emma’s heart slammed against her ribcage. She’d thought they were over. They were over. They had to be over.

  Cam had told her they were over.

  The eight years of tumultuous on-again off-again that Honey had put Cam through were finally, blessedly over. He was free.

  Free to be hers.

  Free to kiss her like he had last night.

  Wasn’t he?

  Honey touched Cam’s face—his face—and, leaning up, whispered something in his ear. He threw his head back and laughed. His white teeth gleamed, and his expensively cut blond hair shone with the lights from the stage. His six feet three inches of mountable height allowed taller-than-average Honey to look like the delicate flower her supermodel proportions usually exempted her from.

  Cam leaned down, placed his hand on Honey’s back, and whispered something in return, rustling her thick, platinum waves of hair with the stir of his breath. She smiled in answer and nuzzled closer.

  Emma’s stomach dove toward the floor. That relationship didn’t look over.

  Suellen caught Emma’s eye from across the room and jerked her thumb in Cam and Honey’s direction.

  Emma waved her off and shrugged to show her lack of concern. She and Cam had been down this bumpy road before. Emma would outlast Cam’s renewed interest in Honey. She’d still be here when he was over Honey. Again.

  Her third champagne flute now empty, Emma adjusted her dress once more and went looking for a fourth. She chased a waiter several feet before he noticed and let her take a glass. She took two this time. Just in case the next server was harder to catch.

  She downed one as fast as she could. Four glasses on an empty stomach were helping her forget about Honey…and giving her a headache. She sipped the next more slowly at first, feeling slightly more numbed against the fact that her lips were being thrown over in favor of those belonging to the should-be-ex girlfriend hanging all over him.

  Honey, schmoney.

  Emma had nursed Cam through his many bouts of Honey disease over the years and she could do it again if she had to. She downed her fifth drink. But who was counting?

  A cool ocean breeze skated over her arms, making her shiver. She decided to move around before she got too cold. Finding it increasingly difficult to balance, she tottered over to the bar in the back corner to relinquish her empty glasses. And see if she couldn’t order up something a bit stronger.

  Emma stumbled when she reached the bar and grabbed for the edge of the counter to support herself but just missed it. A strong arm righted her and kept her from crashing the empty glasses on the polished wood surface.

  “Whoa, there, sweetheart.” A deep voice accompanied the steadying arm.

  She froze. Sweetheart? She wouldn’t be anyone’s sweetheart if she wasn’t Cam’s. “Don’t call me that.” She blinked and looked up into gorgeous cobalt-blue eyes and a rugged, handsome face.

  This guy was the opposite of Cameron Rushton in every possible way. Where Cam was a golden god, polished and bright, this man was all darkness, sharp angles. Rough masculinity was evident in his every move. His thick, wavy dark hair pushed back from an intense brow and a laser-focused gaze. His lips, full and lush and kissable, curled into a sardonic grin.

  “Just trying to help.” He took a swig of his drink and raised a dark eyebrow at her. “Women like you should take it slow, you know.”

  Emma bristled. “What do you mean, women like me?” Women who have been kissed and ditched? Or dripping women sporting wardrobe malfunctions?

  He flicked his eyes up and down her in obvious appraisal. “Lightweights.” Raising his elbow, he knocked back the rest of his drink.

  He was certainly no lightweight.

  Disproportionately pleased that he hadn’t been attempting to insult her, she tried to sit on one of the tall barstools at the counter, but it wobbled. Must have. Because she stumbled and would have fallen but for being caught for the second time by that same pair of strong arms.

  “Easy there, Tiger.” His light tone sounded amused. “Didn’t we just cover this?” He settled her onto the barstool next to him, but she pulled back.

  “You don’t have to keep saving me if you don’t like me, Mr. Muscles,” Emma retorted.

  He raised both his eyebrows this time. “Mr. Muscles?”

  She gestured to his massive biceps that were straining the seams of his suit jacket. “You’re so muscle-y.” She had trouble with the last word. Which was surprising given that she’d been her high school forensic team’s best extemporaneous speaker. Her tongue was thick, taking up much more mouth room than usual.

  His eyes glinted. “My name is Derek. And I never said I didn’t like you.”

  Emma harrumphed. “You didn’t have to. Your eyebrows do all your judging for you.” She reached out her hand and squashed her fingertips against his face. She squeezed one of his thick, dark brows, outlining the shape of it, and realized as she did so that she couldn’t possibly be sober.

  To her surprise the formidable man laughed. Taking her hand from his face, he placed it gently on the bar.

  She looked down at her hand. “Emma,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “My name’s Emma.” She attempted to focus a stern gaze on him, but he kept weaving. “Not Tiger.”

  “Okay, Emma. You know what I think?” His smile was mischievous before turning to the bartender to order another bourbon.

  “What?” She was a bit breathless to find out.

  “I think…” he started, but she didn’t get to hear what he thought because at that moment the music stopped and Cam climbed onto the dais, clinking his glass loudly with a knife. The lead singer of the band brought the microphone stand over. The buzzing room hushed.

  “Can I have your attention, please?” Cam called out to the room.

  Emma leaned forward, craning her neck to see him, heart fluttering.

  “I have an announcement.” Cam’s wide smile took in the entire party. Emma strained toward him. She realized only just in time that she was in danger of falling off her seat. She threw her arm out and grabbed the edge of the counter. She caught herself, but the quick movement caused a commotion in her ensemble.

  “Tiger, you seem to be losing something.” Mr. Muscles’ eyes danced as he gestured
somewhere south of her chin.

  Emma looked down and froze in horror.

  Her boobs had tried to free themselves from her troublesome neckline, and the tops of her nipples were showing. She hastily tucked them back in and hitched her dress up with both hands.

  “What?” She narrowed her eyes at Derek.

  His smile was huge. “Not a thing, Tiger.” He clapped softly for her, seemingly in appreciation, before turning back to his drink.

  Embarrassed, Emma gripped the bar with her other hand to steady herself. She was annoyed that she was missing Cam’s speech. It was his birthday, after all. She wanted to hear his news. And hear it well, so she could play it back in her mind later exactly as he’d said it. She’d have a good time tonight, despite her wardrobe deficiencies and Cam’s ex-girlfriend who wasn’t seeming as “ex” as she ought to be.

  Abandoning Derek and tamping down her injured pride, Emma climbed down from the stool and flung herself into the throng. She pushed past the outer edges, elbowing her way into the crowd as much as she could without letting go of her dress.

  A large, mounted speaker loomed on her left. Cam’s voice rang out clearly from it, sending goose bumps up her arms. She could just spy him there onstage, past the shoulder of a tall man partially obscuring her view.

  “And this is the real reason I wanted to get you all here tonight. Under false pretenses as it were…” Good-natured laughs sounded all around her. False pretenses? What? How could Cam’s birthday be false pretenses?

  “Honey, come on up here.” Honey ducked her angelic head and waved her hands at him like she was embarrassed by the attention.

  “She’s shy, ladies and gentlemen. How about a hand?” Clapping and a few catcall whistles followed. More than one male hand shot out to assist her physically onto the stage.

  Cam laughed. “Okay, fellas, that’s enough help there.” He brought Honey to his side and looped an arm around her.

  “For all of you who know us, and for those of you who snuck onto the boat for the open bar…” he paused, grinning, and waited for the laughter to die down. “All of you know that Honey and I have had a rocky road to love these last eight years. And this was supposed to be my thirtieth birthday party, and it is, or else I’d have to give back all those presents over there, right?” More laughter. “But tonight is something more than that.” Cam’s face took on an earnest expression. Emma pressed forward, trying to guess the syllables his lips would speak before he voiced them.