How to Handle a Heartbreaker

by Marie Harte

  “I doubt it’s going to,” Abby whispered, stunned at how much she wanted to be a goddess for once in her life. To dress without care for how others saw her, but to be sexy in her own skin.

  “That’s the point. It’s short, but so are you.”

  “Not short. Petite.”

  Maddie talked over her. “So it will look just shy of slutty on you. The ivory color goes well with your darker hair and fair complexion. And the deep V will show off your curves. I know you think those are your best features, but I like your eyes. I’m torn.”

  “Gee, thanks. Too bad you and I aren’t dating.”

  “Isn’t it though? Well? Let’s go. And no flats. You’re going in my golden heels, and that’s final.”

  “Greeks didn’t wear heels.”

  “Goddesses do. Come on, Abby. Treat yourself. You earned it.”

  Something in Abby clicked. Halloween, her favorite holiday. A time when she could pretend to be someone else for a night and enjoy herself. She took another sip of the champagne Vanessa had thoughtfully brought. “Why the heck not?”

  Chapter 3

  The party was in full swing when they arrived. A conglomerate of businesses sponsored the event every year at Muriel V’s—a popular banquet hall—and put on a real bash. There must have been a few hundred people at least, laughing and dancing.

  Abby stood with Vanessa just inside the doorway, out of the way of incoming guests. Dry ice fogged the floor in spurts. Strobe and disco lights lit the expansive room. Two large bars had been set up on either side of the hall, and in the middle was a huge dance floor. Rhythmic techno pumped through the place, a deep throbbing bass that echoed within her.

  In front of them, Maddie and Flynn stood arm in arm. The kitten and the cowboy. Flynn wore chaps over jeans, a half-buttoned shirt, and a tan cowboy hat. Maddie had barely looked away from him since he’d arrived at the house to take them to the party. Abby couldn’t blame her. Flynn made an amazing cowboy.

  “How big is this thing?” she asked Vanessa, whose company was one of the contributors to the festivities. Vanessa wore a sexy nurse’s uniform and white stockings held up by clearly visible white garters. And Vanessa being Vanessa, she sported a nametag which read Nurse Ratched and carried a huge toy hypodermic needle filled with fake blood. “By the way,” Abby added, “your nametag suits you.”

  “Well, I am surrounded by crazy people.” She pointedly stared at Abby tottering in Maddie’s too-high heels.

  Normally five-four—okay, five-three and a third—she now stood at an impressive five-seven. Unfortunately, they both knew she’d fall if she didn’t continue to cling to Vanessa like a vine.

  She held tight to Vanessa’s arm and shook her head, feeling the wisps escaping her upheld hair tickling her neck. “I’m in costume, peasant girl. Watch your tone. I’m a goddess.”

  “You look good.” A huge compliment coming from Vanessa. “Really pretty in that excuse for a dress. But you should have eased back on the champagne at the house.” She stared at Abby’s hand wrapped around her wrist at the same time Abby stumbled.

  “It’s not the booze. It’s these stupid heels.” Abby lifted her foot.

  Maddie spotted her teetering on one foot and hurried back to her. “What the heck, Abby? Are you trying to flash the crowd already? Let’s warm them up, then make your move.” She glanced at a small group of men smiling widely nearby who toasted Abby with plastic cups of beer.

  “Oh.” Instead of blushing, Abby smiled back. So maybe she had imbibed more than she normally would have. But damn it, she’d finished her book. She was entitled to celebrate, both her victory over her deadlines and her new status as a goddess free from mortal worry. “I am Venus, hear me roar.”

  Vanessa fiddled with her stocking. “I thought you were Greek. Venus was Roman. Aphrodite was Greek.”

  “Don’t rain on my parade, Ratched.” She glared at Vanessa, who laughed at her.

  “You really are cute when you’re mad. Oh, wait, there’s Lissa. I didn’t know she was coming.” A genuine smile lit Vanessa’s face.

  “Oh, right. Lissa, your buddy from work.”

  “I’m going to go say hi. Stay here with Maddie and Flynn.”

  Vanessa darted away before Abby could protest. Not that she minded Vanessa leaving, but she needed someone to hold on to for fear she’d fall flat on her face and moon the party. Since Maddie had convinced her to wear the stupid thong Abby had been saving for Mr. Right, if she did indeed fall, it wouldn’t help cover anything, let alone her wounded pride.

  Flynn joined them a heartbeat later and gripped Abby’s arm to steady her. The hunky cowboy. But instead of a gun in his holster, she saw a tool.

  “Have wrench, will travel?”

  “Yes, darlin’. That’s the plumber in me.”

  She laughed at his pitiful accent.

  “Stop flirting with the goddess or I’ll scratch your eyes out. Reowr.” Maddie curled her hand in the air, and Abby saw she’d gotten a manicure.

  “Shouldn’t those nails be white to be in character?” she asked, surprised to find herself having fun. The mood around her was contagious. Happiness reigned as the beat shifted, and she found herself tapping a dangerously clad foot in time with the music.

  “Red is the color of passion,” Flynn commented. “I like ’em.”

  “And the color of blood,” Maddie replied. “So stay close to me or I’ll be forced to carve up the non-felines in the crowd looking to rope a cowboy.”

  He grinned widely. “Yeah? Because I saw some chick checking me out. Why don’t you take me into that closet over there and—”

  “God. You two need a room, and I need a drink.” Abby yanked her arm from Flynn. “I’m not tipsy. Honestly.” She felt a little flushed but otherwise sober. Kind of. “It’s these heels. I’ll be at the bar. When you’re done doing…whatever it is you two do when you disappear…come find me.” She nodded at the bar at the far end of the room.

  More crowd-goers occupied the dance floor than clustered around the bars. Yet there were plenty of partiers on either side of the massive dance area as well. She figured she wouldn’t have too much of a problem finding a seat or a drink. Not with all the guys eyeing her getup. Show a little cleavage or leg and they went crazy.

  Go figure.

  Abby kept her pace slow and constant and found the bar without incident. With so much other exposed female flesh on display, her allure faded as she blended with the crowd. She liked knowing that if she fell on her ass, only a few would see her embarrass herself.

  “Whoa. You have got to be the prettiest thing I’ve seen all night.” The bartender whistled as she sat on a stool. “I’m hooked. What’ll you have?”

  Her dress grew exponentially shorter as it hiked up her legs when she sat. Damn. The whole of her thigh showed. Then again, the lighting wasn’t that great. Who was looking? “Hmm. How about a Long Island Iced Tea?” It tasted like tea instead of alcohol, and she could get a nice buzz going on without losing her mind. She’d nurse the drink all night and enjoy herself.

  “You got it.” He winked. “And in that dress, consider it on the house. I wouldn’t want to piss off the gods or anything.” He paused to find her a napkin to go along with the drink. As she looked around her, she spotted a few familiar faces. People from the neighborhood, her favorite barista, and a few of her library buddies, women she often saw when she made her rounds. “There you go, lovely.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks.” Not a bad-looking guy. He had a nice smile.

  He nodded down at the drink. “Anything you need, at all, you just call. Name’s Phil.” Someone distracted him away with another order.

  She looked down at her drink and saw a number on the napkin. What the…? Abby peered closer, wishing she had her reading glasses.

  Holy crap. He’d left his phone number. Phil J. had left her his phone nu
mber.

  Her self-confidence shot up several notches. Maybe I should wear cleavage-baring silk every day. She sipped the drink and felt eyes on her. Thinking it was Phil J., she turned only to see Rick Jackson, a guy she’d once partied with and one of Flynn’s favorite electricians, staring her up and down with a huge grin on his face. He left the guy he’d been talking to and joined her at the bar, taking a seat beside her.

  “Well, well. Abby Dunn. Fancy meeting you here.”

  Rick had kind eyes and a wicked sense of humor. She liked him a lot. By the expression on his face, he liked her costume.

  “You going to arrest me, officer?” she asked.

  He flashed an obviously fake badge and tipped back his uniform hat. “No, ma’am. Not if you’ll finish that drink and join me on the dance floor.”

  Abby sighed. Her luck. “I would, but I’d kill myself in these heels.” She sipped her drink and looked down. They sure looked glamorous, but what idiots put themselves through such torture on a daily basis to look good?

  Maddie.

  “Wow. That is a lot of leg for someone I hadn’t thought was that tall.” Rick held up his hands at her glare. “No, no. Not saying you’re short. Just that…” He swallowed. “In that costume, you have really, really long legs. Pretty legs.” He blew out a breath. “Oh yeah.”

  She laughed, amused by his attention. Normally she didn’t garner more than a hello or a smile. But he and Gary had supposedly asked Flynn about her. That meant they were interested, right? “Is the goddess of love knocking you off your feet?”

  Rick put his hand between the buttons of his jacket and thumped his heart. “Honey, I’m done for.”

  She turned to better face him, and someone bumped into her from behind. She braced her hand on his knee just as Rick caught her shoulders, his hands warm against her bare arms. Though she’d demanded to wear a jacket in the car, Maddie had made her leave it behind, claiming Aphrodite didn’t wear wool in the winter. Now that Rick had his hands on her, Abby silently agreed.

  Yet… Some part of her wanted another man’s hands instead of Rick’s. A taller, fairer, more obnoxious male whom she could cut down to size, and who should be made to worship at her feet. A man not worthy of her affections, she told herself and smiled back at Rick.

  Then realizing her hand remained on his knee, she tried to pull it back.

  “Don’t. I mean, it’s okay. You need to keep your balance.” He took a long drag of his beer. “Damn. It’s getting hotter in here by the second.” He lifted his hand and ran a finger down her neck. A forward move.

  She…liked it. She felt sexy in her costume, and Rick’s admiration boosted her ego. “I put my hair up for tonight. Maddie insisted it’s more authentic.”

  “It’s gorgeous. I love your hair.” Rick smiled, and she liked that the warmth in his expression reached his eyes. “So tell me about your day, Aphrodite.”

  “Nice. You got it right. I’m the goddess of love.”

  Rick nodded. “I was a big fan of mythology as a kid.”

  “No kidding?” Enthused, Abby sipped at her drink while she and Rick engaged in a discussion about the Greeks versus the Romans. As they talked, she didn’t have to fight her inclination to look for a familiar blond head in the crowd. The drink relaxed her. In good company and trusting her friend not to molest her, she forgot her cares and her stupid crush and enjoyed a man’s company.

  ***

  Brody wanted to smash Rick’s head in. He felt Flynn mosey next to him. “How the hell did you let her cozy up with him? The one guy, besides Gary, she might hang with?”

  “Sorry, man. Abby took off. I was going after her when we saw Phil tending bar. He’s a good guy. And then Maddie, uh, well, she kind of distracted me.”

  Brody turned to note Flynn’s bottom two shirt buttons gone and a few red marks on his neck. “You and your thing for public places.”

  “Shut up, Brody. Maddie’s kind of shy about things. Keep it under wraps, man.”

  Like Brody didn’t know everything about Flynn. The two had shared their quirks, faults, and wants for far too long to be embarrassed about them now. He understood his buddy not wanting to embarrass Maddie. Still, Flynn owed him.

  “Either you get her away from Rick or I will. She’s been sitting with him for over half an hour. And look.” Brody curled his fingers into a fist. “Her hand’s on his knee again.” He took an unconscious step forward, unable to think past the need to get Abby away from a potential rival.

  “Stop. I swear, that costume is going to your head. You’re not some badass in the Wild West.” Flynn eyed him up and down, a wary look on his face. “Just wait here and go with whatever I tell her. Okay?”

  “Fine. Lie, cheat, steal, but if that woman isn’t right here in the next two minutes, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

  “Thought you’d been doing that anyway.” Flynn gave him a pitying glance.

  Brody shot him the finger, not pleased when his friend laughed at him.

  He watched as Flynn approached the bar. Flynn shook Rick’s hand while Brody turned to look as if he was perusing the crowd, trying not to seem as if he’d been shooting invisible daggers into his soon to be ex-friend, Rick. Flynn said something, and Abby laughed. A deep-throated chuckle that had more than one male head turning to watch her.

  Jesus, she killed him with that dress. What had Maddie been thinking to pour Abby into it? According to Flynn, Maddie had thought to help Abby through a dry spell. Hello? Why had no one called him in to help? At least Flynn knew better than to keep him in the dark.

  Abby wanted to celebrate? He’d help her party all night long. But a glance at her empty cup and the knowledge she’d already had a bit to drink gave him second thoughts. Brody and alcohol didn’t mix well, and he’d never, ever take a woman not sure of her sobriety. He might be a Singer in name, but never by actions. His father and brother were sure as shit going to hell. Not him.

  He had no problem drinking because he had limits he never breached. Abby had already rounded the happy bus and was sliding perilously toward sloppy drunk. She could barely walk next to Flynn as they joined him.

  “Hey, Abby.” He couldn’t help his husky voice. Aroused and relieved she was away from a scowling Rick, he tipped his hat at Rick and watched with good cheer as the guy stomped away.

  “Where is she?” Abby asked.

  “She?” Poor woman. Drunk off her ass.

  She teetered again, then slapped at Flynn when he reached for her. “I’m not drunk, I keep telling you. It’s these stupid heels.”

  Not drunk? The possibility of a different ending for the night immediately translated to the needy part between Brody’s legs. Oh boy. Good thing he’d foregone the chaps and wore plain denim to match his black shirt and hat.

  Abby steadied herself by grabbing onto his arm and slid her feet out of her shoes. “Oh, that is so much better. So where’s this woman you supposedly need saving from?” Then she glanced up at Brody and blinked. “Black Bart?”

  Flynn guffawed. “Told you she’d know your costume. The outlaw thing suits your personality.”

  “Black is a good look on me.” He tried keeping the smile from his face. Now several inches smaller without her shoes, Abby was holding onto him, and her small hand felt soft and warm over his forearm. Even through the material of his shirt, he could tell they’d combust if they ever had any skin-on-skin action.

  “And…my work here is done.” Flynn left after nodding at him to look after Abby.

  He nodded back before giving her his undivided attention. “You look good enough to eat.”

  She frowned. “Haven’t you used that line on me before? Did it work?”

  “Dear goddess.” He spread his hand wide, overly dramatic. “I cannot know what is in your mind. I can only offer you my willing sacrifice. Sex to ease the plight of my sick people.” He wave
d around him for dramatic effect, pleased to see her lips curling into a smile. “You see how they seize and convulse with an unspoken malady. I fear only a sexual sacrifice will cure them. And it must be me, for I am the last virgin in our village of Seattle.”

  Abby took a good, hard look at him and burst out laughing.

  Maybe she was a little more than buzzy after all.

  But before he could ask her if she was okay, she tripped over a heel and fell into him.

  He grabbed her without thinking and swore when her rockin’ curves hit him in all the right places. She fit snugly between his legs, his cock rubbing against her belly. Her breasts smashed against his lower chest, while her head rested against his pecs. His nipples had never been so sensitive before, but he swore he could feel her breath against his skin as she blew out a laugh.

  “See? Those heels are cursed.”

  Cursed, blessed. Whatever caused her to rub against him without backing away, he was all for it. Conscious of her bare feet, he knelt to scoop up the shoes, then swept her into his arms.

  She let out a small shriek. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you someplace where we can talk. The noise is getting worse. Too much bass.”

  “Not enough, I’d say,” she argued, likely just to be contrary. She held onto his neck and didn’t protest his hold. “There’s a table over there.” She nodded to the far corner, a spot partially blocked from view by the large potted ferns providing a bit of atmosphere. The spooky corner seemed too far away to be a part of things, probably why it remained empty.

  Perfect for them.

  Brody walked with her to the spot, nodding at his friends as he passed. Flynn gave him a thumbs up and swept Maddie around, so the woman didn’t see him carrying the tiny goddess away. Tipsy or not, Abby was going straight to his head. He’d had one beer and one beer only; his every intent was to get drunk on Abby tonight.

  Not only did she look good and feel good, but she smelled like heaven. Some sultry perfume he’d never scented on her before. Then he looked down and saw her breasts pressed together, that gorgeous cleavage all but begging him to get closer and nuzzle. She toyed with the hair at his nape, and his arousal skyrocketed.