Back in Her Husband's Bed. Andrea Laurence
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breath, fighting to maintain the look of adoration on his face. “Smile, sweetheart. You do tonight. We have to celebrate our reconciliation. Normal people would order champagne.”
“I didn’t drink champagne when we married. Why would I do it now?”
“Because you want a divorce.” He spoke softly, leaning in. “Don’t you?”
“More than anything.” Annie smiled.
Renee returned with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. She filled the glasses, leaving the bottle chilling in a bucket beside the table.
Nate raised his glass, holding it out until Annie reluctantly did the same. “To our marriage,” he said, clinking the crystal against hers.
“And its timely dissolution,” Annie mumbled, quickly bringing the glass to her lips. The golden, bubbly liquid filled her mouth, the flavor surprisingly pleasant and sweet on her tongue. It splashed into her empty stomach, creating a warming sensation that started spreading throughout her body. “Mmm...” She sighed, taking another sip.
Nate watched her suspiciously with his full flute held in midair as she drained half her glass and set it down. “Do you like it?”
“I do.” Annie smiled again, the expression coming much easier than it had before. She had been wound so tightly today, but in an instant she was starting to feel languid, like a house cat stretched out in a sunbeam.
Renee returned just then, ready to take their orders. Annie was suddenly ravenously hungry, ordering more than she would normally. Nate actually smirked through a sip of champagne as she ordered the bacon-wrapped filet and shrimp with the garlic mashed potatoes. He didn’t even know she intended to have dessert, as well. The crème brûlée at Carolina’s was not to be missed.
Renee finished writing and took their menus before she offered to refill her empty glass. Annie accepted gratefully. “What kind of champagne is this? It tastes better than I expected it to.”
“French. And expensive.” Nate frowned, as though he were pinching pennies. More likely he was irritated that his power play hadn’t turned out as he’d hoped.
“Good.” She nearly giggled as she sipped the golden bubbles. The champagne had immediately gone to Annie’s head. She’d told Nate once that she didn’t drink because she didn’t like losing control. That was true, but not entirely. The other reason was that she was a lightweight. Add in that she hadn’t eaten since her layover in Dallas, and you had a recipe for disaster.
She considered tearing off a hunk of the warm bread to soak up some of the alcohol, but resisted. For one thing, she didn’t need the extra carbs. Two, she wanted to be drunk. If he insisted she drink, he was going to find out how big a mistake that truly was.
They sat silently for a few minutes after that. Annie ate her salad ferociously, stopping only long enough to drain her second glass of champagne and pour a third.
Annie knew she should stop, but she just didn’t want to. She didn’t want to sit here, pretending to be in love with him. She couldn’t play nice while her heart was aching every time he looked at her. It was too painful. She wasn’t happy about the way things had ended between them, but she couldn’t change it. There was a good reason she’d run and stayed gone for so many years.
And yet she had a responsibility to fulfill, so she slipped off her heel and let her bare foot roam up under the cuff of his pant leg.
Nate jumped in his seat, his knees whacking the bottom of the table and jingling the glassware. Several people turned to look in their direction, but he quickly recovered with a nervous straightening of his tie.
Annie ignored his pointed gaze, tipping a sip of champagne into her mouth. “You said we had to be convincing, darling.” She set the flute back onto the table with a sweet smile and stroked the firm muscles of his calves with her toes. “Besides, we both know I lose all my good sense when I’m around you.”
* * *
Nate looked at the woman who had occupied his thoughts for the past three years. The giggling mess across the table was not exactly as he remembered her. She’d managed to eat every morsel laid in front of her and drink at least four flutes of champagne.
At the moment she was licking the spoon after her last bite of crème brûlée as though she might never eat again.
He had to give her credit, though. She’d kept up her end of the bargain. Through the meal, she’d looked at him adoringly, fed him bites of her food and leaned in to kiss him on more than one occasion. Anyone watching their exchange would think they were blissfully in love.
The truth was that she was blissfully drunk. A quick glance under the table revealed his biggest fear— four-inch stilettos. Did the woman not own any sensible shoes? There was no way she would be able to walk out of this restaurant with any dignity at all.
Nate quickly surveyed the room. Their dinner had run quite late and most people had cleared out for the evening. It was a Thursday, a big night at some places in Vegas for senior bingo, but that wasn’t the crowd he drew at the Sapphire. If she was determined to embarrass him, she’d chosen the wrong day.
He quickly scribbled his information onto the restaurant tab, tipping Renee heavily. Then he turned back to Annie with a heavy sigh. “Are you finished?”
She reluctantly put her spoon back into the empty ramekin. “I guess so. That is, if I can manage to stand up.”
Nate moved quickly, coming around to help her. She stood, probably too fast, and wobbled for a second before gripping his outstretched arm for dear life.
“Why don’t you—?”
“No,” she insisted, her brow drawn in drunken concentration. “I can do this.” She took a few unsteady steps beside him and then seemed to recover nicely. Just as they approached the entrance to the restaurant, her heel turned beneath her and she threw herself onto the maître d’ stand.
“Whoa there,” she said with an uncertain laugh. In one quick motion, she righted herself and plucked off her shoes. “Much better,” she said, wiggling her toes into the plush and wildly colored casino carpeting.
“What are you doing? You can’t just walk through here barefoot.” Nate frowned.
Annie laughed, walking on and answering casually over her shoulder. “I know the owner. He won’t mind.”
Nate was quick to follow. “I mean it isn’t safe. You could step on something. Drunks break glasses in here all the time. We try to get it all up, but you never know. Besides, the floor could be filthy.”
“You are an old ninny, Nathan.” Annie turned to him and planted her hands on her hips. Her heels dangled helplessly at her side as she wrinkled her nose and actually stuck out her tongue at him.
He could barely trust his eyes. No one on the poker circuit would believe this story if he told it later. The Barracuda, drunk and acting like a fool, albeit a beautiful one. It was unheard of. Unprecedented. And hysterical.
The bubble of laughter rose up in his throat. He couldn’t contain it. The pent-up frustration and disappointment and confusion of the last three years all pooled together at once and exploded out of him in a roar of laughter. His whole body shook with the power of it. Nate actually bowed over, his hands braced on his knees as he chuckled until tears started gathering in the corners of his eyes.
He looked up to see the laughter had doubled Annie’s irritation. Her expression only made it harder for him to breathe. Nate stood up, attempting to calm himself and wiping his face with the back of his hand. It was incredibly therapeutic—more so than the glasses of scotch or hours angrily lifting weights in the hotel gym.
“That’s it, I’m leaving!” she announced, turning and marching away from the restricted area, shoes in hand.
“Annie, come back here.” Nate jogged after her, reaching out to grasp her wrist and jerk her to a stop.
“Let