For a weekend that was meant to be about relaxing and recharging, sorting out her head, she felt as if she’d been walking a tightrope blindfolded. What with Elyse being so unexpectedly fabulous. Her mother driving her even crazier than she’d expected. And poor Roger flirting up a storm every chance he had while she thought him about as interesting as a potted plant. But they were mere wallpaper compared with the most glaring factor in the story of her lack of a pinky fingernail. What had got into Bradley? Even thinking her boss’s name had her teeth aiming for a new nail. No matter how she played out that first half an hour inside the bar, she kept coming back to the indisputable fact that Bradley had been hitting on her. The dark glances, the whispering in her ear, the unexpected touches … She bit down so hard on her fingernail it stung. Wincing, she snuck a glance across the table to where the man himself sat, all six feet four inches of him, sprawled out in his chair, long fingers clasped around a glass of beer, smiling contentedly as he watched Elyse and Tim belt out ‘Islands in the Stream’ on the karaoke stage.
