Page 46 of Unwrapped
“Thank you.”
He points to my gingerbread martini. “Is it any good?”
“Delicious. Here, try some.” I hold the glass out to him.
Jude sips it and smiles. “It’s like a dessert.”
“Right? I need to con the bartender into giving me the recipe.”
“You won’t need to con him. Just smile and he’ll fall at your feet like the rest of the men in this room.” He spots something over my shoulder and stiffens.
“What?”
He moves closer and wraps his arm around my waist, possessively gripping my hip. “Incoming.”
I glance behind me, tensing when I discover Ryan is on his way across the room. He’s just as gorgeous as when I last saw him, and like I expected, my thoughts jump to Dean. A wave of pain makes my heart clench. My lungs trap the air inside them.
“Just breathe, sugar,” Jude murmurs.
Ryan stops at our table and sweeps his gaze over me. “It’s been a while, Cam.”
“It has.”
“You look great.”
“Thanks.” I sip my martini, hoping the alcohol kicks in soon.
His eyes dart to Jude and narrow. “Holland, I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Jude flashes his billionaire smile. “I’m a man of opportunity,Senator.” His patronizing tone makes Ryan scowl. Then he ups the ante by kissing the top of my head and pulling me closer. “I’d be a fool to turn down a date with a beautiful woman.”
Ryan searches my face with the same assessing look he’d use when we were a couple. “Are you two together now?”
“Her love life is none of your business.”
“I wasn’t asking you,” he snaps, clearly annoyed by Jude’s smug retort. His eyes find mine once more. “So? Are you?”
“Why does it matter?” I prop my hands on my hips. “Are you still seeing Tiffany?” My lip curls on the name of the woman he cheated on me with.
“No. We split up last year. She, uh, didn’t have my best interest at heart.” The bastard has the balls to look sheepish.
“No kidding.”
Ryan’s eyes burn into mine. “Can we talk in private?”
Jude tightens his hold on me but doesn’t speak up.
“I’d rather not.” I slide one of my hands down to cover Jude’s, interlacing our fingers. He gives me a reassuring squeeze. “As you can see, I have a date.”
“Eight years together and you can’t have a conversation with me?”
“I don’t care if we were together a quarter century. I don’t owe you a fucking thing.”
Ryan blinks through his shock. “Well, all right then. Merry Christmas.” He stalks to the bar.
My chest deflates on a giant exhale.
“You were great.” Jude holds up his tumbler.
