She jumped up, distress etched on her face. However, her sudden movement sloshed more wine over the edge of the glass, down her forearms and onto her front. If her face had been contorted before, now she looked like she might cry.

Jordan took the glass out of her hand, as the bartender offered serviettes to wipe herself.

“You want me to throw some white wine on you, Abs?” Delta shouted from her stool.

Abby gave her a steely look, followed by a glimmer of a smile. “A hard no.” Then she slumped. “Look at my Bride T-shirt!”

Jordan dabbed her arms and her top with the serviette, until Abby glanced up at her as she connected with her breast.

Jordan sucked in a breath. “Shall we go to the bathroom?”

Abby nodded. “I think that’s best.”

“You want my arm?” Jordan offered it.

Abby frowned. “I’m not that drunk.”

It took all Jordan’s efforts not to disagree.

Gloria jumped off her stool. “You want me to help?”

Jordan shook her head. “Stay and enjoy your wine. We’ll only be a minute.”

The bathrooms were large and plush, with plump white hand towels, lit candles, and huge mirrors so they could assess the damage.

As soon as she was in front of a mirror, Abby pouted. “At least it’s only my hen T-shirt.”

Jordan pulled up a chair and sat Abby down, wetting the end of one of the hand towels right away. “Exactly. For now, it’s damage limitation time. You can get the red wine out easier if we soak it up now.”

She leaned over Abby and began dabbing at her top, while also trying not to touch her at all. It was an impossible task. Meanwhile, Abby began touching Jordan’s hair.

“So blond, so gorgeous.” Abby twirled Jordan’s hair around her fingers. “Such a beautiful woman to have come into my life at just the wrong time.”

Jordan froze. What should she do? This was unchartered territory.

“Abby.” Jordan’s tone held a warning she hoped Abby heeded. “Now’s not the time. I’m trying to clean you up.”

Abby gave her a smirk. “You’re not going to do it if you don’t touch me, though, are you?” She took Jordan’s hand in hers and pressed the towel onto her breast. “That’s how you clean me up, Jordan.” She pressed harder again. “I need a firm hand.”

Jordan gritted her teeth as desire shot down her, landing right at her centre.

She had to shelve her desire and do her job. Especially now Abby was back to pawing her face, her fingertips on the tip of Jordan’s nose.

“So perfect, just like a model,” Abby said, her voice a lullaby. “But not for me, because off limits.” She pouted.