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One night with a stranger…gets even stranger the next morning.

Ally snatched her fourth champagne from the passing waiter and downed it in one gulp. Licking her lips, she set the flute on an empty table.
Her friend Trish placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Slow down. We're at a charity event for the children's hospital. There's no bouncer to carry you out of here."

"That only happened once." Ally held up a pink-tipped finger.

"And I promise not to give away my bra this time." She hiccupped. "I'm not wearing one." She'd never been able to walk into that bar after that.

She sank down onto the nearest seat, not even at her own table. "How else am I going to get through the night? I'm going to my mother's third wedding tomorrow and I haven't even had one of my own. Can you say spinster?"

"Spinster." Trish adjusted her sparkly wrap and sat next to her. "That's a stupid word, anyway. Single old ladies don't spin anything anymore."

Ally groaned and settled her chin in her hand. "Somebody implanted me with a tracking device that homes in on the absolute worst guys. But my mom was born with a lucky horseshoe up her—"

"That's not true. And it'll all be over tomorrow."

Ally sniffed. "Maybe if I had a date to bring with me it would be easier."

"Plenty of eligible bachelors here tonight." She swept her arm like she was showing off the prizes on a game show.

Ally scanned the ballroom for some prospects and noticed a tall guy with gorgeous dark hair pulled back in a ponytail—who had just scooped up a blond woman in his arms like he was never going to let her go.

Typical. I spot a hot guy and he's taken.

"I've just got incredibly bad boy karma."

A couple wandered over to the table. "I think you've got the wrong seats," said a prissy brunette.

Trish pulled Ally up by the hand. "Come on, let's go."

Bored with the prime rib and political debate being served up at the table, Ally excused herself to get some fresh air on the outdoor terrace. She grabbed another drink at the bar, stepped outside, and shivered in the cool night air.

"I thought I was the only one unamused by the meal." A man stepped away from the side of the building and joined her at the railing overlooking the city.

She set her drink down on a bistro table and looked at him, surprised she hadn't noticed him in the room before. He was tall, with deep-set brown eyes and blond hair. His shoulders were wide, and his legs were long, and she was wondering what he'd look like out of that tux.

That's the effect four flutes of champagne and one martini had on a girl the night before her mother was getting hitched.

"You here alone?" she asked, skipping the small talk.

His eyes lingered on her rear, jutted back as she leaned against the railing. He took his time finally bringing his gaze to meet hers with a sultry smile. "I am. And I hope to God you are, too."

She turned around and pressed her back against the railing, showing off her cleavage, enhanced by her strapless black gown. No need to be subtle when you knew what you wanted. "Listen. I'm having a really bad week and I'd like nothing more than to get out of here now. With you."

He tipped his head and looked at her, probably to determine if she was putting him on. "Just like that, huh?"

She nodded and snapped her fingers. "Just like that." She hoped she was improvising well; Ally wasn't the type to solicit men for a one-night stand.

"I just need to let my friend know I'm leaving."

He reached out and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. "I'll meet you in the lobby."

She shuddered at his touch and nodded, then lifted her gown off the floor and dashed back to the table.

She squatted next to Trish's seat. "I found someone to make the weekend much more bearable. I'm leaving."

Thrish's eyes widened. "Ally! I was kidding about picking up a guy for the night. You're not like that."

"Consider it my personal bachelorette party for my mom." She winked.

"Be careful!" she whispered.

"I'm picking up a guy at a charity ball. I'll be fine. You think they let criminals in here?"

"You better call me tomorrow!"

Ally walked away, looked over her shoulder, and fluttered her fingers. She certainly would not have been doing this without the amounts of alcohol she'd consumed. She'd been voted most responsible in high school and considered it a life-long assignment.

But tonight she was on sabbatical.
When she walked down the stairs to the lobby, she spotted her guy watching her. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed his chin, never taking his eyes off her.
The quiver in her belly told her this was a good plan, responsible or not.

At age twenty-two, she'd never hooked up with a stranger. No she wasn't a virgen. Incase you were wondering. She took her time descending the stairs.

Her gown brushed the floor, rustling as she walked to him. Soft classical music played overhead, and something tight and wild was unwinding in her belly. She looped her arm around his and squeezed his bicep. "Ready?" she asked in a husky voice.

"Where to?" he asked.

"My place. It's not far."

They walked outside and the breeze swirled her hair across her face. He brushed it away and left his fingers on her cheek.

"What's your name?"

She took a deep breath and lied.

"Laura."

"I'm Ross. Nice to meet you." And he crushed his mouth against hers. Oh, If only she knew.

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