Page 68 of A Really Bad Idea

She gives a sarcastic grin, and I can see a sliver of lipstick on her top teeth. “It’s a pattern. There’s a lot of chatter around the hospital. There’s always something going on in this city … a gala, a benefit, an auction, a reception. He takes you out for an iconic night in Manhattan and sweeps you off your feet with champagne and dancing.”

“I’m not here to be romanced.”

She lays a hand on her hip and tilts her head. “You seem like a nice girl. Trust me when I say, Dr. Christian Gallagher is the love-’em-and-leave-’em type.”

I know Christian has dated over the years, but I’m not a fan of the Casanova persona she is painting him with.

“Well, thank you for this very misplaced desire to be my protector, but I should also remind you, he is my friend. My oldest friend, and I don’t appreciate you discussing his personal business. My intentions with Christian are my prerogative, and if I did plan to be another notch on his belt, it wouldn’t be because he was using recycled moves and cheesy lines. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to get back to.” I walk past Natasha and then stop to turn around because, even though I’m annoyed, I’m not a mean girl. “You have lipstick on your teeth,” I say. She raises a hand to her lips. “You’re welcome.”

I puff out a large breath through my lips and have to give myself a little shimmy before squaring my shoulders back and walking into the grand ballroom. I march my way to Christian, who is standing with two rocks glasses in his hands. I let out a sigh of relief that it’s not champagne.

He hands me a glass, and we clink. As I down mine, a touch unladylike, he questioningly looks at me.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

I lick the residue of Johnnie Walker off my lips. “Thirsty.”

He takes a slow drink, his eyes settled on me the entire time. As he lowers the glass, he quirks a lip, and a dimple appears. “Remind me to make your next one a double.”

I shake my head with a smile. “Wearing a gown like this, I should be drinking something more feminine. A martini perhaps.”

“When I picked out this dress, I told the woman I was looking for something to bring out your eyes.”

Eyes. He had to go and comment on my eyes.

“My eyes are brown. Nothing brings out boring brown.”

“That’s why I got you something in your favorite color,” he says and then adds, “And that’s not true, by the way. Your eyes aren’t boring. You have flecks of gold in them. They’re vibrant and luminous. You laugh with your eyes.”

I look up at the ceiling at his comment.

“And, for the record, your mouth is your best feature.”

“Do you buy dresses for all of your dates?”

“Never. You’re the first,” he answers easily as he walks toward a cocktail table and puts his glass down.

“Why did you buy it then?”

“Because I knew you’d feel obligated to come with me,” he says with a wink. “I was right. You are the worst gift receiver. Even if you hated it, you’d wear it.”

I grimace. “That’s probably true.”

The band’s tempo slows from a quick-footed dance tune to the open chords of a ballad.

Christian hears the change and holds out his hand. “I made a special request while you were in the ladies’ room. Care to dance?”

It’s in this moment I glance to the side and see Natasha watching us with a raised brow.

“Meadow?” Christian brings my attention back to him.

I stare at his hand and exhale. Placing my hand in his, I let him lead me out to the dance floor.

We reach the center where many people are dancing, enjoying the perfect evening. He pulls me in, so familiar. My face looks toward his shoulder as we place our hands in the required spots and start a box step. We’re moving mechanically. No, I’m moving like a robot. He’s swaying to the melody, holding me with care, giving his heat and energy to me in every way as he leads me across the dance floor. The opening chords of the melody play repeatedly in succession before the lead singer starts in.

“You are my fire.”

My head pops up.