Hard Sell (Page 50)

The skirt’s full and wide, which emphasizes her tiny waist, but it’s really the bodice that steals the show. Tightly fitted to her tiny frame, the black satin alternating with black lace reveals glimpses of skin through the fabric. The effect is a combination of demure and seductive, and perfectly her.

“Thanks again for the assist,” Kate tells me. “Your girl worked wonders.”

“Let’s not give her too much credit,” I say. “She had an excellent muse to work with.”

Kate blows me a kiss in acknowledgment. “So are we having fun?”

“We will be once Ian gets done making the rounds talking shop,” Lara says, faking a small yawn. “I don’t know how you guys get used to these fancy things.”

“Truthfully, getting ready is the best part,” Kate says.

“No, taking off the strapless bra at the end of the night is the best part,” I correct.

“This backless dress didn’t allow one of those, but not to worry, I have Spanx to punish me. Ian doesn’t know what sweet, sexy surprise awaits.” She surreptitiously snaps the waistband of said Spanx for emphasis.

I smile into my champagne, absolutely confident that Ian’s not going to be the least bit deterred by Lara’s shape wear. The woman could put on a dress made of dead leaves, and he’d still be crazy for her.

“Speaking of, anyone want to keep me company while I go to the ladies’ room? The Spanx add five minutes to the peeing process, and I need someone to talk me through it over the stall wall.”

“I’m game,” Kate says, reaching out and taking my champagne, tossing it back. “It’s not like I have a date.”

“Yeah, why is that?” I ask. “Anybody looking like you shouldn’t be alone.”

Kate doesn’t reply, but her eyes flick across the room. I follow her gaze, which is locked on Kennedy and his mannequin.

Oh, Kate.

I wish I could help with whatever it is she feels for Kennedy, but I don’t know how much use I’d be. I can barely get a grasp on my own love life.

“Guys. My bladder?” Lara says, doing an awkward shuffle.

“Right. On it.”

Yet another Wall Street bigwig has captured Jarod’s attention, so I catch his eye and, after gesturing toward the girls, point in the direction of the ladies’ room.

He gives a quick nod of acknowledgment.

Kate, Lara, and I are nearly to the hallway leading to the restrooms when someone steps directly into our path.

I blink a little in surprise, then smile when I realize it’s a familiar face. “Dana, hi! I didn’t realize you were coming here tonight.”

“Yeah, well . . .” The tall, sharp-featured reporter gives a quick smile. “The news never sleeps.”

Dana Keller’s hair is red tonight, though I’ve also seen it black, blonde, silver, and just about every other color. The red suits her, though, as does her emerald gown.

“You’re giving off a very Poison Ivy look tonight. I like it.”

Generally speaking, I tolerate the media more than I actually enjoy them. They serve their purpose, and I know how to make them serve my purpose. But Dana and I go way back, and she’s a journalist I actually like. She draws a hard line in the sand when it comes to reporting the facts and only the facts, so she’s not one of my more easily manipulated contacts, but that only makes me respect her more.

I’m so surprised to see her at a fancy-pants event that I don’t register the standard reporter notebook in her hand until it’s too late.

She gives me a quick smile of apology, which makes my heart beat in overdrive panic. Dana Keller doesn’t do apologies.

“Ms. Cross, is it true that you and Matt Cannon have been seeing each other?”

“What?” God, no, please. I am not strong enough to be bombarded with this right now.

“Dana—”

She interrupts, making no effort to keep her voice down, and several people look our way. “You’ve been seen on multiple occasions sharing meals, drinks, even shopping. Is it safe to assume those were dates?”

I quickly glance at Lara and Kate, but instead of looking horrified by Dana’s ambush, they seem almost nervously excited. Traitors.

I try to move around the reporter, even as the crowd surrounding us grows more curious. “Dana. Please. Can we not do this right now?”

“There have even been reports that you’re engaged. Can you confirm?”

“I can confirm that we’re not,” I snap. Then I frown as I realize she hasn’t written down a single word. For that matter, Dana Keller would never conduct an interview without her ever-present recorder, which is nowhere in sight.

“And yet, several sources confirm that Mr. Cannon went ring shopping.”

I refuse to show how much the questions sting. How much they remind me of what I won’t have. “Your sources were wrong. Matt Cannon and I were seeing each other for a brief time, but the relationship has run its course. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”

I start to push around Dana, making a mental note to put her on my shit list until the end of time, when a male voice speaks out.

“Actually, the sources weren’t wrong.”

I whirl around, my heart pounding at the sound of Matt’s voice, my breath catching at the sight of him. Why, even when I’m determined to hate him, does he have to look so perfect?

So perfect for me.

He looks amazing in his tuxedo, but that’s not even the part that gets me. It’s the familiar line of his jaw, the playful tilt of his smile, the warmth in his eyes . . .

I shake my head to snap out of my daze. “What are you talking about? What sources?”

“The sources that said I was ring shopping. Not wrong.”

I’m not sure I’ve been speechless in my entire life, but I am now, stunned down to my very core.

Convinced I’m in a dream, I glance at Lara and Kate, who are smiling, albeit nervously. Ian is whispering to Dana Keller, and I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I read thank you on Ian’s lips. That’s when I belatedly realize exactly what’s happening here.

I’ve been set up.

Lara’s no longer desperate to get to the bathroom. Dana stuffs her untouched notebook back into her evening bag before shaking Ian’s hand and then Kennedy’s, who’s appeared on her other side.

They planned this. How did I not see it coming? Me, the one who taught them everything they know about a proper setup. Damn. They did good. Really good.

But why?

Matt takes a step toward me, his smile gone, his expression shifting from playful to intense.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

Without breaking my gaze, he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a teal Tiffany box, flicks it open with his thumb. The ring is huge, sparkling, and perfect.

“You said you wanted a Tiffany cut, but if that was hypothetical or you’ve changed your mind, we’ll get you a new one.”

My hand goes to my heart. “What? What are you—”

Before I can finish my sentence, he calmly and unapologetically drops to one knee. “Sabrina Cross . . .”

I hear someone sob. Probably Lara. Or Kate. Maybe both.

Then I realize it’s me. I’m crying.

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s too soon,” Matt continues. “Don’t tell me we’ve just started dating, because that’s bullshit and you know it.”