Why in God's name had her sister invited him in the first place?
Sybil knows how much Mary dislikes the man, how she has been methodically avoiding him since he kissed her at the Christmas party, how he always drives her to distraction until she can't think straight.
But he's here…just upstairs…at Sybil and Tom's New Year's Eve Party. This is no coincidence—of this she is certain.
Damn it all to hell.
She slides further back into the storage closet, attempting to find the particular cooler neither her sister nor Tom can seem to locate.
"Fancy meeting you here."
She turns quickly, knowing who it is by the sound of his voice and the tingling sensation speeding up her neck.
"Following me again, Charles?" she questions, staring at him as hard as she can.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mary, but your brother-in-law sent me down to fetch some extra chairs."
He looks entirely too please with himself, and the closet's tight quarters make her tight in places she'd rather not think about.
"They're in the back," she points out, not budging from her position. "But you'll have to wait your turn."
"I can be very patient when I have to be," he grins, that blasted grin making her want to claw his eyes out and kiss the hell out of him at the same time. How does he do this to her?
A click sounds behind them, and she catches her breath, pushing past him and jiggling the door frantically.
"You didn't prop it open!" she accuses, the panic in her eyes unmistakable.
"And…" he prompts. "It's just a door, isn't it?"
"Just a door that locks from the outside, you idiot," she fires back, banging with a fervor she's certain no one can hear. The music is too loud, the upstairs too crowded, and no one would journey down here unless either Sybil or Tom sent them purposely.
Unless Sybil or Tom sent them purposely….
Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody, hell.