Never much of a drinker except at these kind of social events, Eleanor had underestimated her alcohol tolerance since the time she had taken off from the entertainment industry. She probably should have stopped at one, or even two glasses of champagne, but after many hours passed, she had genuinely lost track. While not flat-out drunk by any consideration, there was always the reminder that there were likely cameras still around, even if the awards were long over. The last thing she needed was the media portraying her return to the limelight as a lush.
The thin chain of gold that held her entire dress in place had slipped as the party went on, so after a quick trip to the ladies’ room to fix it, Eleanor rushed back out to make sure she wasn’t missing any of the excitement. In her tipsy high-heeled hurriedness she careened right into another guest. A male. Grasping herself by the lapels donning his broad chest to keep upright, Eleanor slowly let her gaze skim upward to land on dark hues. Samar Sehgal. Seriously?? He’d already grated on her nerves once tonight. He was lucky she hadn’t a drink in her hands or she might throw it at him.
“Well if it isn’t Mr. tall, dark and brooding,” she huffed in annoyance, relinquishing her grip. A little embarrassed, she tried to make up for it with a teasing grin. “Did you get that stick out of your ass yet or do you need another drink to take care of it?”
