She’d spent the first six months hoping to run into him. Literally. She’d been prepared to take him out with her car. The second six months she’d been more rational. More willing to be objective. She wouldn’t actually kill him-she would just wing him and call it even. Since then she’d managed to nearly forget about him. He was a mistake. She’d assumed their night together had meant something-it hadn’t. Their time together was a blunder women had been making since Ug had beckoned Ugette into his cave back in the Stone Age.
“Who are you looking at?” Skye asked, then followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah. Him. That car guy. Cruz something. He’s very wealthy. Car dealerships, a chain of auto parts stores and a race team. NASCAR and something else. I can’t remember. He offered us a huge donation. Do you know him?”
Not a question Lexi was going to answer, she thought as she looked around for an escape. But there was nowhere to go.
She wouldn’t react, she told herself. For all she knew, he wouldn’t remember her. What had been a significant event in her life had probably been nothing to him. She was merely cheap date number 157.
It had been ten years and they’d both changed. The guy she remembered had worn jeans and a T-shirt, not a custom suit and imported shoes. Not that his face was different. He still had the kind of smoldering dark eyes that made a woman want to lose herself forever. Well, other women. Not her.
She would act like he was a stranger, then she would excuse herself. He would never know how hot the humiliation from that night…and morning…still burned.
“Good evening,” he said as he approached, smiling at Skye. “I’m Cruz Rodriguez. Thank you so much for inviting me, Ms. Titan.”
Skye smiled. “You’re more than welcome. Call me Skye. I hope you brought your checkbook. I’ll be shamelessly begging for extravagant auction bids later. But first I have to thank you for your generous donation.” She looked at Lexi. “Cruz is offering a weekend in Daytona in a private house with two days of racing lessons with his top driver.”