Thane's Redemption. Nina Crespo

going to a small club, but you love coming to this place, and we know why.”

      “I never said I wouldn’t mind sleeping with him. I just don’t drool every time I think about it.” Lauren stood and returned Ari’s mock glare with a syrupy smile. “I’ll order us a round of the usual.”

      “What’s the usual?” Celine asked as Lauren headed to the bar.

      “A Jamaican mangotini.” Ari’s light brown face grew even prettier with a smile. “It’s got mango nectar, lime juice…and the bartenders here are very generous with the rum.” She looked at Lauren standing at the bar on the other side of the room and chuckled. “Of course, Blondie will make sure they use top-shelf liquor instead of that house-brand crap. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

      “And if I don’t?”

      “No worries. By the second one you’ll be on board.”

      A laugh made its way past Celine’s lips, but weak from disuse it lost steam and died away. Memories intensified the tug-and-pull between happiness and heartbreak. Maybe the alcohol would help.

      Ari squeezed her arm. The compassion in her gaze brought tears to Celine’s eyes. “It’ll be okay.”

      “Here we go, lovelies.” Lauren set three martinis down without spilling a drop.

      Celine took a sip of her drink. The triple hit of alcohol, tangy sweetness, and coolness washed the tightness from her throat.

      “So…” Lauren peered over her glass. “From the looks on your faces, I’m guessing you’re talking about the whole depression thing?”

      “No,” Ari said, “we’re actually talking about how good it is for her to be out with us again.”

      “Isn’t that the same thing?” Lauren fixed her attention on Celine. “I know it’s hard, but you’re twenty-six, sexy, and single. If you don’t get back out there, you’ll end up like the woman I read about the other day. She’s so lonely she hoards cats and knits sweaters out of fur balls.”

      Ari groaned and her friends exchanged eye rolls and subtle gestures.

      On some level, she appreciated Lauren’s candor. At least she knew where the conversation was headed even if she didn’t want to go there.

      “Trust me. All you need is a hot guy to get you back into the swing of things.” Lauren pointed to the bar. “And the perfect one is standing over there. He’s been checking you out since we walked in the door.”

      Celine took a long sip from her martini glass. Twenty-six, yep—she’d celebrated her birthday last month. Sexy—with Lauren and Ari’s help, she had to admit she looked damn good. Single—not the best word to describe her more complicated status. No, she wasn’t a grieving widow, but after almost a year, she was still a brokenhearted fiancée.

      Relationships weren’t unthinkable, and she’d tried getting back out there a few times, but her hang-ups weren’t the problem. Once she told her story, most guys never made it past the obligatory, “I’m sorry.” The rest elevated her to untouchable sainthood or smothered her with pity. Or worse, they thought she’d sleep with any man who showed up in exchange for drying her tears. She set her drink down. “Not interested.”

      “Talk to him,” Lauren insisted. “We can squeeze in another chair.”

      “I don’t want to talk to him.” She’d let them drag her out of her apartment. What else did they want?

      “Come on. It’s not a date.” Lauren looked toward the bar and smiled. “Besides, he’s cute and—”

      “Damn it, Lauren. I said no.” Moisture welled in Celine’s eyes. Would the tears ever stop? “I’m a grown-ass woman. I don’t need your help.” She bumped her glass, and a splash of mangotini landed on her lap. “Shit.” She rolled the chair back and grabbed the least soggy napkin on the table. As she dabbed at the dress, Celine avoided her friends’ open-mouthed stares and stood. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

      “Wait, I have wet wipes.” Ari searched through her purse. “I’ll go with you.”

      “No!”

      Ari recoiled.

      Working up a smile to soften the blow, Celine took the small packet from her friend. “Thanks. I’m okay. I’ll be right back.”

      Refusing to look at the people around them, she left the table and followed the signs down a corridor to the ladies room. Not interested in chitchat or commiseration, she walked past them to the adjoining hallway and leaned back against the wall. As she rubbed away the stain, indignation cooled to regret. Being a bitch to your friends won’t make it better.

      If they only understood.

      The one-year mark of losing Dominic didn’t earn a gold medal at the finish line on the race to normal. Losing the future she’d looked forward to with him haunted her every day. Swells of hurt and loss filled her chest. At times like this, he’d have been her sounding board. After talking to him, she’d always known what to do.

      He’d always told her, Trust your instincts. You know what you want. She wanted normal, but if it meant having what she loved snatched away again, she wasn’t in a rush to get there.

      Celine tossed the towelette and empty packet into the trash. She wouldn’t think about him, not here, not now. She needed to apologize. Ari and Lauren only wanted to help. Talking to the guy Lauren had pointed out would smooth things over. So much for leaving in two hours. She closed her eyes and slumped against the cool wall. It was going to be a long night. She drew in a deep breath, and warm scents of citrus and amber consumed the odors of fried food, beer, and alcohol. The source of the wonderful scent stood an arm’s length away wearing a pair of silver-tipped black boots.

      Dark jeans encased his long, muscular-looking legs. A black T-shirt hugged his lean waist and stretched across his broad shoulders. His mesmerizing golden-brown eyes projected intensity, calm, and something unexplainably beautiful.

      Mr. Hot-Ass-Scorching-Twelve stepped to the boundary of her personal space, and her heart kicked in an extra beat. His gaze never left hers as his lips tipped slowly into a smile. “You do realize you’re missing the show.”