Four Temptations by PJ Adams Read Free Book Online

maybe a little tiny bit of it will rub off on them.”
    I had my arm around his waist, and now I gave him an awkward little sideways hug. “Thanks, Jimmy. For all this. For everything.”
    “I should damned well think so,” he said. “Now come and talk to some people and let them fawn over your literary goddess-ness.”
    I meant it. Jimmy had always been there for me, had always gone way above and beyond for me.
    §
    Talk about awkward.
    Brandon was there, of course. That wasn’t the awkward thing. Not yet, at least.
    No, awkward was when you’re talking to your German publisher while your ex- and hoping-to-be-current lover is doing his best to throw you off your stride with little looks and comments, and with those casual touches of his: a hand on the arm that just happens to allow his knuckles to press against the swell of a breast, the brief touch on the small of your back that brushes down over the swell of your ass as it moves away.
    I leaned across and whispered in his ear: “You’re a bastard, you know that, right?”
    He just smiled and did that hand on the arm thing again, and then, as I turned and glanced across the room – even more awkward! – there was Rebecca Swaine, an old friend from my PR agency days, looking sad and forlorn as a puppy on death row. And when I followed the line of her look, I saw the reason why: Rebecca’s husband Porter was standing there, and clinging to said husband’s arm in that perky, gorgeous blonde way of hers was Ellie Jordan. Her boyfriend, her married boyfriend who was also hung like a donkey, as I’d only recently found out, was none other than Porter Swaine.
    Grabbing two glasses of fizz on the way, I swept over to poor Rebecca.
    “Rebecca, Rebecca,” I said. “So glad you could come.” And then, I leaned in closer to her and put an arm across her shoulders in a brief hug. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize , darling. Apologies for the faux pas , I should never have invited–” I nodded across the room, indicating Porter and Ellie. And my, how they looked the perfect couple: him with a charcoal suit hanging from those square shoulders, his tie loosened, evening stubble darkening his jaw; and her in that tiny black dress, looking like she’d stepped straight out of a magazine.
    “I didn’t know ...” I said.
    Rebecca shook her head. “Sorry, I should have said that Porter and I were... I’m sorry. I just...”
    The poor thing was shaking! I was furious: with Porter for being such a bastard, and with Ellie for putting me in this position. How ironic that only a couple of days ago she’d been pointing out the impact a messy break-up could have on those around the couple doing the breaking up.
    I laughed, unprompted, and far too loud. “Imagine I’m giving you a great big supportive hug, darling. Okay?” I told her. “But I’m not going to do that because he’d see and you don’t want to show him any sign of weakness, now, do you? Okay, darling? Hug over. Was the bastard looking?”
    “Yes, yes,” she said with a feeble laugh. “He looked over. Didn’t seem too bothered, though.”
    “Oh he will be, darling,” I said. “He just won’t want to show it.” With that, I put an arm around Rebecca and steered her away. “Come along, let me introduce you to some people.”
    I looked around, my brain racing, trying to think of who would be a good antidote to the shit poor Rebecca must be feeling right now.
    And of course, Brandon was there, standing at the bar with Ben Warwick. What the hell.
    “Ben, meet Rebecca. We used to work together in advertising. Ben writes scripts for soap operas, and he’s from Edinburgh, and he’s single. Rebecca’s single too, you know.” Sometimes being over-obvious is the best way to achieve the obvious: Rebecca needed distraction, and what better than a tall, dark TV writer with Sean Connery’s voice to do the distracting?
    Brandon was waiting his turn.
    “And this is Brandon. You might have seen him on