Threads Of Desire (Creative Hearts Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

giddy, blushing way it always did when Mark was brought up. She was so happy for her friend, who’d been through so much before getting her happily ever after.
    Over in the corner was a decent sized group of their friends, mostly Steve’s club and actor crew and even—as only Steve could finagle it—two or three of his exes in the bunch. This could get interesting. Gabby raised a brow at him, and he shrugged. “Hey, I’m leaving town. Word gets out.”
    Gabby laughed. “Okay, playa, you just remember what you’re on that island for.”
    “Yes, mama.”
    As they made their way to the back area, it didn’t escape Gabby that Nick hadn’t made an appearance. She guessed that he was still busy with his work or whatever. Who knew? Maybe he had decided that his limber and sexually fluid girlfriend was a fine option after all. Gabby told herself to push all thoughts of him out of her mind and concentrate on having a great time tonight. It was her last night with one of her very best friends for a while. She didn’t have time to worry about Nick Ross.
    Gabby sailed past Samara and took Steve’s hand. “Get me to the cheap booze. It’s time to celebrate my boy!”
    She heard Steve snort from behind her. “Okay, Sparky, but you slow it down and pace yourself. I don’t want to have to carry you home.”
    She shot him a look and shimmied her way into the pack. Introductions were made, and bodies shifted in the deep banquettes. As always, there was the usual deference paid to Samara as she was a famous Leighton. But she took it in stride, and after a while the ice was broken and everyone was relaxing and toasting Steve’s good fortune at having gotten his big break. Soon after, folks were loose enough to get out and dance. Gabby and Sam were cracking up watching Steve not so successfully navigate his three exes on the dance floor. You could see the sweat start to pop on his brow and run along the back and front of his tee. He ran back to the table taking a long swig from a beer and mouthing “ save me”  to Gabby as she threw her head back laughing.
    She shook her head. “That’s your troubles.” Gabby bobbed along to the music, starting to feel chill and catching the eye of a good-looking, brown-skinned guy across the bar. The way he was rocking and keeping time with the song suggested he knew how to dance and that the music was moving him too.
    “And there you go,” Sam said, giving her a nudge.
    “He does look like he can dance,” Gabby said.
    “That he does. Why don’t you go and see.”
    Gabby stood, took a swallow of her champagne, and put the glass down. “I think I will. I feel like dancing tonight.”
    “Well then, can I have the honor?”
    The champagne lodged in her throat and her blood went to ice. Who the hell used the words “ can I have the honor”  in a place and at a time like this? Gabby forced her fingers to slowly disengage themselves from her glass so that she wouldn’t crack it. She knew how she must look. She was heated a little too much, so her hair was probably over-curled now from perspiration and stuck in clumps to her forehead. Her ‘50s-style handmade dress cinched extra tight at the red, corseted waist, flared out over her hips in an exaggerated way, and showed off ample cleavage as she bent over the table putting the glass down. Damn. Would she always be putting on some sort of a show for this man?
    Swallowing hard to down the champagne, or maybe her own embarrassment, Gabby let her eyes slowly come up to meet the voice for the confirmation she didn’t really need. Dark, crisp, well-pressed pants; white shirt tapered at the waist—also well pressed, not a wrinkle in sight; two buttons undone at the sharp collar; and just the smallest hint of hair daring to peek through. She noticed he’d shaved and his usual perfection was back in full force. Not a hint of the sexy scruff he’d displayed this morning in evidence. The perfect lines of his tapered beard were back in