My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair

21. Delicious Man Smells Like Breakfast Pastries

Even better than watching her nemesis sprawled on the lawn of the Griffith Park Observatory was the joy that Oliver, rather than rushing to the side of his betrothed, turned toward Andie, arched an eyebrow, and stared at her crossed arms. "Are you all right?" he said, touching her arm. Though his touch was gentle, her body's reaction was a powerful jolt of attraction. Even after all that had happened.

"Excuse me!" Talia shrieked from the lawn. "Fiancé on the ground here!" She punched her arm into the air in a not-so-subtle signal that Oliver was expected to help her stand.

People nearby kept glancing over at Talia, then turning back to their conversations, pretending nothing was amiss.

"What is going on?" said an ice-shattering voice.

"Mother," Oliver said.

Andie's stomach twisted as Cyra, dressed in a red sequined gown glided into the clutch of aliens and humans, frowning.

It was bad enough Andie had to put up with these aliens at the office, but it was seriously unfair that they were invading Sterling's fundraiser. Plus, Andie's sparking fingers, which had almost settled down after the joy of seeing Talia hit the ground, started up again.

Beside Cyra towered a vaguely familiar gorgeous blonde with pouty scarlet lips and incandescent pale skin. Andie wracked her brain trying to place her, but couldn't. Most likely because in Hollywood, gorgeous, pouty-lipped, incandescently skinned blondes are as common as houseflies or potholes. Said blonde wore the same dress as Sterling even though Messrs. Dolce & Gabbana promised Sterling it was "one-of-a-kind." Someone wasn't getting a Sterling Champagne testimonial at this year's Oscars.

Sterling stiffened at Andie's side, and her movie star best friend growled a teeny bit.

"What is it?" Andie whispered to Sterling.

"Gigi Gaines," Sterling said through clenched teeth.

Oh, no! The actress who stole Sterling's part in The Last Story franchise. This night could not get any worse. "Do nothing rash," Andie whispered, gripping her friend's elbow. "There are cameras everywhere."

"Why would she show up at my event? Is she trying to steal my charity too?"

"Hello, Sterling," said Gigi. "Hello, whoever you are." She gave Andie the once-over. "Didn't Cher wear that leather get-up about a hundred years ago? Like in the eighties?"

"It's faux leather!" Sterling snarled.

"Sorry about The Last Story," said Gigi, looking about as sorry as a Powerball lottery winner. "I hear there are some good mom roles coming up."

"I think you should leave," said Andie.

"But she's my guest," said Cyra. "Hello, Andromeda, Sterling." Cyra smiled and stared at Sterling for way too long and in an extremely stalkerish fashion.

"Get up from there, Talia. You are causing a scene," Cyra pursed her lips.

Talia glared at Oliver, then leaped to her feet.

"Who did you have to sleep with to steal my part?" said Sterling.

"You bitch," said Gigi, snatching a glass from another of the omnipresent wait staff, and in slow motion, the shimmering liquid arced its way toward Sterling. Andie jumped, shielding her friend from the onslaught. The sticky champagne dripped from Andie's hair and face trailed between her breasts, and made its way beneath the gown onto her stomach. Andie could not help herself calculating the loss of the costly fluid in both current dollars and dollars adjusted for the average inflation rate since bottling. She did this sort of lame math to keep her brain from exploding with the weird crap that threatened to suck up her intellect and expectorate the remains.