The Game Changer (7 page)

Melody glanced at Olivia to see if she had noticed the hot stranger, but Olivia was staring past her with a strange look on her face.

“What’s wrong?
 
Melody asked, catching Olivia’s attention.

Olivia shook her head slightly, looking past Melody again before meeting her eyes. “Nothing. I just thought I saw someone I knew.” She shook her head again and smiled. “Hey, I’ve been watching people go through that archway over there. Wanna check it out?”

“Sure,” Melody agreed with a shrug. She was glad for an excuse to take a break; the crowd on the floor was getting thicker, so it was harder to dance without bumping into people. Off to their left, she saw a girl take her friend’s hand and pull her close so she could lead her away without getting separated, and Olivia and Melody did the same.

They made their way through the crowd toward the far side of the club. Passing under the archway, they found themselves in a large room dotted with tables and chairs, along with more couches lining the walls. The mood in this area was more relaxed than the rest of the club; the music wasn’t as loud in here, and the people sitting at tables or lounging on the couches seemed to be having animated conversations without having to yell to be heard.

“Food!” Olivia cried, startling Melody. Olivia shot her a rueful grin, and pointed toward a waiter in tight black pants with an even tighter t-shirt shirt who was carrying a tray of food toward one of the tables. “Want something to eat? I’d kill for some French fries right now.”

They chose a table in the centre of the room, and Olivia ordered two more drinks and an order of fries for them to share. Olivia had a thing about eating greasy food while she was drinking. Melody was just glad to get off her aching feet.

“I don’t know how you wear these things all the time,” Melody said, flexing her feet and pointing to her borrowed shoes. Her squished toes were almost completely numb, and the rest of her feet were throbbing in protest after hours on the dance floor.

“You get used to it,” Olivia told her, looking at her own feet.

Melody shook her head. She couldn’t imagine getting used to these shoes. She was amazed she could walk and dance in them without falling flat on her face, but she couldn’t picture wearing them every day. She had seen her mother’s misshapen feet after decades of narrow shoes with pointy toes, and she didn’t want to end up with feet she had to keep hidden for the rest of her life. “Aren’t flats in style right now?” she asked.

“Yes, but they only look good with certain outfits,” Olivia said, smiling at the waiter as he set their drinks and snack on the table.

“Then let’s find some of those outfits,” Melody said pointedly, drawing a chuckle from Olivia.

The smell of fries made Melody suddenly ravenous. She and Olivia dug in, then started to laugh when they realized they probably looked like starved animals.

“A little more class,” Olivia said primly, straightening in her seat and crossing her legs. She daintily plucked a fry from the basket and took a bite. “If my mother were here, she’d tell us to eat these with a fork.”

“She would,” Melody agreed.

Olivia’s mother had grown up poor, but always had illusions of grandeur—or
delusions
of grandeur, according to Olivia. Mrs. O’Dell had joined a sorority in college where those illusions became reality, surrounded by privileged girls from good families who helped her rise through the ranks of society. It was during those sorority years that she met Olivia’s father, whose family was one of the wealthiest in Toronto. After fifteen years of marriage, Olivia’s mother left her husband and daughter and ran off to the States, where she remarried several times, always for money, and was now single and living in Los Angeles.

Melody hadn’t known Mrs. O’Dell well, but the woman had made an impression. Always immaculately dressed, with professionally coiffed hair and French manicures, Mrs. O’Dell had never let Olivia leave the house without her inspection. Whenever Melody was over, Olivia’s mother would preach to the girls about manners and elocution and how to conduct oneself in the presence of men.

Melody’s lips quirked at the memories, and she shook her head again. There had never been a dull moment with Mrs. O’Dell around, and even though Olivia was always adamant about the fact that her life had improved with her mother gone, Melody knew there was a lot of hurt and resentment there.

“Ladies do not eat with their fingers,
dahling
,” Olivia said with an affected British accent, drawing out each word. Mrs. O’Dell came from a suburb of Toronto, but after spending a lot of time in England on holidays, she’d picked up the accent, Madonna-style. She would even tell strangers that she was from London, much to Olivia’s embarrassment. “In fact, a lady does not eat finger foods at all, except of course at tea time, and even then it is only with pristine white gloves, so one does not get one’s fingers dirty.”

By this time, Melody was laughing so hard she was gasping for breath. “Stop, stop,” she begged Olivia, clutching her stomach as the uncontrollable giggles rolled out of her. “You always told me to warn you if you started to turn into your mother.”

Olivia’s answering smile was bitter. “No, I always told you to
shoot
me if I turned into my mother.”

Fighting more giggles, Melody picked up a napkin and dapped carefully at her eyes where tears of mirth had formed. She glanced around to see if anyone appeared to be contemplating having the two of them committed, and her gaze landed on the man who had been watching her on the dance floor earlier.

He was reclining on one of the long couches against the wall with one leg crossed at an angle over the other, and one arm draped over the back of the couch. His dark hair was short and slightly tousled, and he was impeccably dressed in charcoal trousers and vest with a pale blue dress shirt that was open at the collar. His dark eyes drank her in from across the room as he raised his glass in a silent salute.

Warm tingles shot through Melody; tingles she hadn’t felt in a long time, and couldn’t quite identify. The guy was ridiculously hot, and he was just sitting there all casual, watching her.

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, part of her afraid he was looking at someone behind her rather than actually at her. He flashed a quick grin that had Melody’s breath catching, and she turned away quickly, realizing she had missed something Olivia said.

“Sorry, what?”

Olivia gave her a sly smile. “Doesn’t matter. I know I’m not as interesting as Mr. Tall Dark and Scrumptious over there.”

Melody tittered nervously. “He was watching us before on the dance floor,” she said. “And now there he is again.” She turned to look at him once more and her stomach dropped when she saw a leggy blond perched on the couch beside him, her hand on his leg. “Just a coincidence, I guess.”

Olivia shook her head, her eyes narrowing in their direction. “He’s not interested in her,” she said matter-of-factly.

“No? You’re a mind reader now, are you?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Mel, look. His posture hasn’t changed at all. If he were interested, he’d uncross his leg and turn his body toward her. And there, look, he took his arm from the back of the couch and tucked it against his body so she couldn’t lean back against it.”

Melody wondered if Olivia’s next hobby would be anthropology or psychology. The girl was hyper-aware of everything around her, and observant in a way Melody never had been.

“Damn,” Olivia said, looking at the stranger a moment longer before turning back to Melody. “Someone clearly won the genetic lottery.”

“I’ll say.” Melody tried hard not to look over, but out of the corner of her eye she could see the blond rise and walk away. When she strode past them, Melody thought the woman didn’t look very happy, and wondered if the guy had let her down easy or simply told her he wasn’t interested.

“He’s staring over here again,” Olivia commented. “You should go talk to him.”

Melody almost choked on a fry. “Are you
kidding
me?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m not,” Olivia replied, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of her drink. She looked like something out of an ad for a liquor company.
Drink our vodka and you can look as good as this woman
.

Melody scoffed. “Pass.”

“Why?” Olivia sat forward again so she didn’t have to speak so loud over the music. “You don’t have to marry the guy, Mel, you just have to sleep with him. Maybe let him buy you dinner. He fulfills a few of your basic needs, and then you move on.”

Melody sputtered in disbelief. “When have you ever known me to be the type of girl to do that?” She stopped herself short of saying ‘That’s your thing, not mine’, because she didn’t want Olivia to take it the wrong way.

Olivia shrugged. “Maybe it could
be
your thing. You’re newly single, starting over. You’ve said yourself that you want big changes in your life. This could be a great place to start.” When Melody remained silent, staring intently into her glass, Olivia said, “I bet a guy like him really knows how to—”

“You ladies look like you’re having a lot of fun.”

Both girls’ heads snapped up and they turned to stare at the stranger, who was now standing at their table. He was even more gorgeous up close.

Olivia recovered first. “We are,” she said, gracing him with a mega-watt smile, which he returned, his teeth flashing white in the semi-darkness.

His gaze moved to Melody. She attempted to smile, but she was afraid it came out looking more like a grimace. She’d always been fairly shy and awkward around guys, and that was just with average guys. This one was anything but average.

Once again, Olivia came to her rescue. “I’m Olivia, and this is Melody.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake, and he did, then turned with his outstretched hand to Melody. When she finally placed her palm in his, he held on, his warm, dry hand engulfing hers.

“A pleasure to meet you both,” he said. He wasn’t speaking loudly, but Melody somehow heard him perfectly over the music.

Smooth operator, this one
, she thought when he released her hand, but kept his gaze trained on her.

He looked at her expectantly, one corner of his mouth twitching into a lopsided grin. Finally, he turned to Olivia and said in an almost conspiratorial voice, “Does she speak?”

Olivia chuckled, then outright laughed at the look on Melody’s face. “She does, she’s just shy.”

Shy. Melody hated being shy. Almost as much as she hated being cute. “You didn’t tell us your name.”

He turned back to her, the lopsided grin tugging at his lips once again. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he said. “I momentarily lost my manners in the presence of such beauty.”

Melody just barely kept herself from scoffing.
What a line!
she thought. She glanced at Olivia, who met her gaze with a raised eyebrow and a barely concealed smirk.

“I’m Julian,” he said, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets. “Would you ladies let me buy you a drink?”

Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but Melody beat her to it. “That’s nice of you, but we’re having a girls’ night.”

Olivia shot her a bemused look, but Julian nodded as if he understood. “Of course. I should have figured that out when you two kept rejecting all those poor saps on the dance floor.”

So he
had
been watching, Melody thought. For some reason, that sent a little spark of excitement through her. “We’re celebrating,” she said, unsure why she was volunteering that information. “Olivia just moved back to Bellevue after living in Toronto for the last ten years.”

“Well, welcome back, then,” Julian said, nodding at Olivia. It was so dark in the club Melody couldn’t tell what colour his eyes were, but as they returned to her, they were dancing with something akin to amusement. “I hope to see you ladies here again soon. Enjoy the rest of your night.” With that, he smiled broadly, nodded to them both, and headed back to his seat across the room.

“Well that was interesting,” Melody said. She was used to guys being far more aggressive, especially around Olivia.

“Melody Anne,” Olivia said, shaking her head. “Sometimes I wonder about you.”

Melody’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Olivia let out a long breath. She had that look on her face that said she thought Melody was being slow and Olivia would have to explain something simple to her. “The hottest guy in this club…possibly the hottest guy in this whole
town
…just came onto you and you shot him down. If it had been me he was interested in I might have had to break our girls’ night pact and go home with him.”