her nerves were under control and her public persona firmly in place.
“Roz asked us to bring food,” she said in the same cheery tone she used to tell women to grab a pole and straddle it like a stallion. She tilted her tray to prove they weren’t
really
crashing the party.
“Food and guests—we’ll take them both.”
“C’mon in and join us.”
“The party just got interesting.”
Tessa took the warm chorus of welcomes at face value, sashaying across the room to begin introducing herself like the social butterfly she was.
Livi was more like a caterpillar than a butterfly, though.
Nerves danced in her stomach, keeping time with the buzzing in her ears. But Livi forced herself to cross the room. Chin high, smile sassy, she knew nobody looking at her could see her anxiety. She’d had years of practice at looking way more confident than she’d ever feel.
She didn’t let herself look toward the corner where Super Hottie was sitting, in case he returned her interest. He probably hadn’t even noticed their arrival. But still... It was difficult enough to sashay into a room full of strangers. She didn’t need to be self-conscious, too.
“Roz didn’t have to go to any trouble,” said a sweet-faced brunette dressed as a sleek black cat as she hurried forward to meet Livi. “She already provided enough food to feed, well, the Navy.”
The woman gestured to the crowd in case Livi didn’t realize the male half of the room were sailors out of uniform.
But Livi didn’t have to be told.
One, the bar, Olive Oyl’s, was in Coronado and catered to the naval base. Two, Roz didn’t close off half her bar for anyone but sailors. And three, well, just look at the guys. They were the epitome of all things military, from their fit bodies to their buzz haircuts to their powerful demeanor—even the guy dressed like a duck.
“Roz figured it’d been a while since dinner and thought people might be hungry. She has a need to feed,” Livi said with a smile and a shrug. “She brought cupcakes and lasagna to my catered wedding, just in case, and I quote, ‘the caterer sucked and the cake was boring-ass vanilla.’”
She bit her lip. Should she have said ‘ass’? Maybe she should have just kept quiet. She never knew if her words would be taken right or not.
But the other woman’s appreciative laugh eased her discomfort. Livi set the tray on the table and uncovered it, then stepped back as a dozen people attacked the egg rolls and nachos.
“Looks as if Roz knew what she was talking about,” the woman remarked, her expression slightly stunned.
“She always does.” Roz had even told Livi not to bother changing her last name, since the marriage wouldn’t last long enough for the paperwork to get filed.
“I’m Eden,” the cat said, holding out her hand. “You must be Roz’s niece.”
Livi blinked, wondering how she’d guessed. Most people didn’t believe them when they were straight-out told, since the only shared trait—physical or personality-wise—between Roz and Livi was their height. Few people knew them both well enough to realize how alike they were, from their taste for green tea to their love of animals.
Aha.
“Eden the vet?” Livi asked. “Purveyor of furry addictions and cuddly friends?”
“Oh, you met Pedro?” Eden exclaimed.
At ease now, Livi fell into a delighted discussion about her aunt’s new three-legged cat.
But her nerves still fluttered, like the wings of a nagging butterfly. Not about the crowd. She’d found someone to talk to. Nope, these were sexual nerves. The kind that were inspired by curiosity and fed by desire. The kind she hadn’t felt in, oh, about a million years.
Unable to resist any longer, sure they’d settle once she assured herself he wasn’t paying any attention to her, Livi looked toward the corner.
The lair of Super Hottie, the sexiest man in the room.
She blinked.
Livi’s butterflies turned into fighter jets, roaring through her system.