His Pretend Girl Read Free Page B

had our three agreed dances. Matthew hadn’t appeared yet, but it was still early, and to my surprise, I was enjoying myself.
    I ordered the next round of drinks, and we carried on dancing. At the back of my mind, a little warning bell dinged. I had to be careful how much I drank. It was only Thursday, and I would be back at work in the morning, as would most of my floor. After three glasses of wine, I could overlook not only the throbbing in my toes, but also the sage warnings of my inner voice, and when the music slowed and Ben eased me into a gentle clinch, I didn’t demur.
    His arms looped around my waist, holding me close, and after a hesitant breath, I placed my hands on his shoulders. He’d dispensed with the jacket, and his shirt was soft beneath my fingertips. Warmth radiated from his body, and his smile enticed me to dance in his embrace. It was probably ambitious to call it dancing. I leaned into him, and swayed in vague time to the rhythm. Up close, I could smell his cologne and see the pattern of a tattoo on his upper arm, just visible through the fabric. My eyes were drawn to the dark swirls. I’d never noticed it before. What else had I never seen? His clear blue eyes had tiny gold flashes in their depths, and I found a small, curved scar on his chin. He was clean-shaven, and his skin looked smooth, his lips full and soft. What would he be like to kiss? I shook the thought away, and lifted my gaze to scan the doorway again.
    We’d been here for two hours, and there was still no sign of Matthew.

Chapter Four
    The buffet had been served, but I wasn’t hungry, my stomach knotting up at the thought of eating. Ben had other ideas though, and insisted he get us some food. I sat and waited, gaze to the door, while Ben disappeared toward the food. Several of my colleagues sought me out to compliment me on my appearance, but it was too noisy for prolonged conversation, and I didn’t have to say much. Would they think Ben and I were dating? I didn’t know I felt about that, so I chose to ignore it. I smoothed on a fresh coat of lip-gloss, fixed a smile on my face, and waited some more.
    Not that I was counting, but it was now two and a half hours. How long would I wait, before I admitted to myself he wasn’t coming? Three hours? Four? Maybe he’d gone to a bar first, and would come here for the last hour? Maybe he was already with a girl tonight.
    Disappointment hung heavy on my shoulders, and I picked half-heartedly at the plate of nibbles Ben placed before me, preferring to sip the fresh glass of wine instead. Where was he? I thought back to the brief water cooler conversation we’d shared last week. I’d asked if he was going to the end of year party, and he’d replied he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Well he was missing it, and it felt like the end of the world to me. All this effort. The dress and shoes. The hours in the hair salon. All for nothing.
    I pushed a breaded mushroom around my plate, and watched the crumbs fall away to expose the soft underbelly of the filling. “He’s not coming, is he?” I lifted my gaze to Ben, not expecting him to reply. Not expecting anything more than a non-committal shrug.
    “No, he’s not.” Ben placed his fork on the side of the plate and folded his arms.
    I felt a flicker of dismay and something darker. I took a slug of wine as I sifted through my words, my brain on a go-slow after so much alcohol on an empty stomach. “How can you be so sure?” He’s just late.
    “I asked him to stay away.”
    I blinked. I mustn’t have heard that right. “What did you say?”
    Over the sudden buzzing in my ears, Ben’s voice was clear. “I asked him not to come tonight.” His face was still, his eyes wary. A muscle flicked in his cheek. I stared at him and took in every detail, while I fought to stay calm. I had to knot my hands together, or I think I’d have slapped him. “Why?” It came out on a shocked gasp of air. Ben knew I was going to all this trouble,