Page 1 of One Night Stand After Another
Chapter One
Clara Duke reached the enormous door of Standing Room, the most popular pub-style restaurant in NYC, and stalled out—hard. There were several people behind her, waiting for her to move forward, but she couldn’t make her four-inch heels carry her into the wedding reception.
This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have come. God, how am I going to get out of this?
The simplest answer—she wasn’t.
There was no escape. No easy way out.
She could only imagine how much it cost to host a wedding in New York, and she’d RSVP-ed “yes.” Plus, on the advice of her genius best friend, she’d spent several hundred bucks on great hair and a killer dress to make herself look bulletproof. She wasn’t leaving until she did what she should have done ten years ago: find the groom and apologize for breaking his heart.
Not that he cared anymore. A man like Jack wouldn’t marry for anything except true love, so she assumed he’d recovered from her betrayal. But when she’d seen his name on the engraved wedding invitation, everything that was currently wrong with her life had become obvious—and undeniable. Clearing the air with Jack would right the wrong that had sent her fleeing down the wrong path, and then finally free her to seek bliss with no lingering guilt.
She hoped.
It had seemed brilliantly simple when she checked the “will attend” box on the invitation. But it didn’t feel simple now. It felt ridiculous. Of all the times she could have chosen to apologize, she’d decided this was the right one? His freaking wedding?
“Miss?”
“Sorry,” she threw breathlessly over her shoulder and forced herself through the short hallway toward the dining room, past leather benches, dark red walls, and framed photographs of iconic NYC landmarks, propelled by the impatience of those waiting behind her, if not by her own resolve.
“Allow me.” The man behind her took a quick step, grasped the glass door, and pulled it open.
A blast of cheery noise greeted her from the dining room.
“Thank you.” She gave him a rueful smile, but instead of the tight impatience she assumed she’d see in his expression, his warm brown eyes held flirtation.
Well, that gave her confidence a boost.
She swept into the dim room and veered left, seeking a place to get her bearings and pinpoint the location of the happy couple.
An enormous bar lorded it over the center of the restaurant. Large, circular booths filled the corners. It wasn’t a huge space, but the high ceilings and gorgeous pendant lighting made it feel like it was. To her far left, French doors opened into a banquet room where she could see several carving stations and a table that held an intriguing number of condiments. To her right, another set of French doors framed a jaw-dropping display of desserts. Her breath sighed from her lungs, and her mouth watered.An entire room of desserts.
An entire. Room. Of desserts.
Okay, even if she talked to no one—hell, even if she failed in her quest and spent the rest of her life avoiding the things that would bring her true contentment—coming here would be worth it for an hour in that decadent room. Good gracious, was that a chocolate fountain? If so, she bet it would be the good stuff, dark and delicious.You and me, later,she promised the incredible-looking display. Time spent with sugar would be all the sweeter after she talked to Jack.
Not for the first time, Clara wondered why he hadn’t chosen one of his family’s restaurants for their reception venue. Maybe the bride’s family had made the choice? That was traditional, she supposed, but a little odd considering the Calabrese name was synonymous with the best restaurants in NYC. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from following Jack’s career and cheering his triumph with his restaurant, Inferno. His new wife had been integral to that success, but Clara didn’t remember reading anything about her having connections in the restaurant business.
She tugged her phone out from her tiny clutch and Googled the name of this restaurant, even though she knew she was comforting herself with technology to avoid engaging with anyone at the party. She’d be social once she knew the specialties of the house.
The webpage opened.Zane Brampton’s Standing Room wows the Big Apple!
Her heart stopped, and her burgeoning appetite vanished. This wasZane’srestaurant? Her mind spun out in doughnuts, circling a central, horrifying possibility.
Zane Brampton might be here tonight.
She was ready to talk to Jack. She’d game-planned it. Rehearsed it. Gotten it down to a tight, two-minute abject apology that wouldn’t take time away from his celebration.
But Zane? She wasn’t wearing the right shoes for the solid kick in the nuts he deserved.
She hadn’t deliberately followed his career. Hell, she’d forbidden herself to seek him in any way ever again. She’d learned her lesson. But his high school rivalry with Jack had continued in the press when they entered the same field. No, she didn’t follow Zane, but she did gobble up crumbs about his life as it related to Jack’s success—and pretended she didn’t. How had she missed this?
Relax. Breathe. Bulletproof, she reminded herself.
If she ran into Zane, he would see her at her best. Instantly, she flashed back to another night she’d been dressed to the nines, his hand tangled in her curls, his mouth on her neck, his thigh—
Never mind where his thigh had been.Don’t think about that.Think about the guilt. The shame. The mistakes that had piled onto one another, compounding, creating a life she didn’t recognize as her own. Think about ten years of discontent that were her fault—no denying that painful truth—but had been kicked off by Zane’s arrogance. Think about how all that would change tonight.
