After dinner, we take the limo to the club, and thanks to the passes, we not only get to bypass the psychotic line, but we end up in some roped off bar and dance area surrounded by the glitterati—Katie’s term, not mine.
She and I each do a shot of some green thing that is passed around in a test tube, but we both decide we need something real, so I leave her at the edge of the dance floor and head for the bar. The music is insanely loud. The only thing I can hear is the heavy bass. It’s dark in here too, but there are a million lights of every different color swirling and gliding past me.
Actually, it reminds me of the club in Miami almost to a T.
The bartender smiles and asks me what I’d like by shouting. I order the tequila shot Katie requested, as well as my whiskey. But when I’m done ordering, I notice he’s not paying any attention to me. His eyes are fixed on something—or should I say someone—past my left shoulder.
“Are you here with that hot blonde in the black dress?”
“Yes.” He looks very interested in whatever he sees, so I turn and notice some asshole who looks like Captain America—minus the spandex—talking to her.
“Dude, you should go get your girl.” My eyes snap back to the bartender and he nods his head in Katie’s direction. “That’s Jamie Cole.” That name means dick all to me. “He comes in here a lot and never leaves alone. Always with the hottest woman and he could care less if she’s attached or not.” Another head nod in their direction. “It looks as though he’s set his sights on yours.”
I turn back, and no doubt about it, he’s trying to work her. Hard.
The full lean-in, brushing his fingers across her cheek, tucking a loose hair behind her ear and smiling at her with fuck-me eyes. She’s not uncomfortable or distressed—though she is leaning away from him—so I let her handle it and turn back to the bartender with an easy shrug.
His eyes widen slightly like he can’t believe that I’m not storming over there after her. “You’re either dumb as fuck or confident as hell, and you don’t look dumb to me.” The bartender shakes his head in disbelief.
I get it. Most guys would be all over that. But I know for a fact that Katie won’t go home with that guy.
If it had been Francesca, I’d have been over there in a flash.
Franny would have wanted me to think that she was going home with him. She was just that kind of woman—always making me work for it, and mind games were her specialty. Katie is nothing like Franny, and I trust her. It is really that simple.
“He steals women all the time, man. That’s all I’m saying,” he holds his hands up in surrender and then goes about pouring our drinks.
Small hands glide up my back, and as I turn, I’m treated to Katie’s soft smile and twinkling eyes. “You left me to the lions,” Katie shouts in my ear, and I smile down at her.
I had no doubts with this one.
“I knew you could handle your own.” I brush my lips against hers.
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “What a douchebag.”
I can’t help but grin at my girl.
Our drinks are placed in front of us, and I hand the shocked bartender two twenties. Apparently, Katie is a rare creature around here.
After drinking our drinks, we head to the dance floor and don’t leave each other’s arms for the rest of the night. It’s heaven, and I just pray it never ends, knowing I’m officially on the clock to convince her to be mine.
16
Kate
* * *
I wake in a similar fashion as the day before, wrapped in Ryan’s arms. It’s only been twenty-four hours of this, but already I’m used to it. And that has me troubled.
I know I should pull back.
I tell myself that constantly.
I’m blurring lines and pushing boundaries further, and I cannot stop myself. Every time I try to take a step back, Ryan does something wonderful—which is often—or he gives me a look that I find irresistible.
Or he does nothing, and I’m still hooked.
I’m falling for him.
I know I am, and I haven’t a clue as to how to stop it.
“Don’t go,” he rasps out in his sleepy voice, pulling me closer into his body before I can escape. “I like you just where you are.”
I do too, Ryan.
I give up the fight against my conscience and roll over in his arms to face him, kissing up his neck and through his scruffy beard. I like the beard. And I love the way it feels on my skin.
“You keep doing that, I’ll have trouble holding back.”
I sort of don’t care right now. I mean, I do, but I really don’t.
It’s a conundrum if ever there was one.
I think conflicted should be my new middle name, instead of Anne. His mouth finds my mouth, my jaw, my neck, my ears, and before either of us knows what’s happening, we’re going beyond my kissing rule. Not much, but enough because his hands are groping the hell out of my ass—my bare ass, since I’m in my thong and bra—and I can tell he’s struggling with his restraint.
His cell phone rings from the bedside table and Ryan groans out in frustration. “Fuck.” He rolls over and grabs it, about to silence it when he checks the caller ID. “Fuck,” he says again with a bit more annoyance because I can tell he has to take it. I’m relieved. He throws me an apologetic look before swiping his finger across the screen to answer it. “Yeah?” he snaps and then listens. He huffs out a loud angry breath. “I’m on it. Give me a few hours.” He hangs up and rolls back to me. “I’m sorry, Katie, but I have some work that needs to get done.”
I smile at him, running my fingers through his hair. He loves that. So do I.
“Don’t be. I’m fine. Go work.” I kiss his jaw before hopping out of bed and heading for the bathroom. I debate going to the gym, but I’m fried from getting home late last night, and frankly, my mind is a mess.
I need to walk, not run, if that makes any sense.
By the time I make it out of the bathroom, Ryan is on the phone and computer at the table in the dining area. I wave bye and blow him a kiss, and he covers the mouthpiece of the phone, asking whomever it is to hold.
“Where are you going, baby?”
Baby? Yup, I’m a total mess.
I manage a smile somehow. “I thought I’d go walk around the hotel. You do your thing,” I blow him another kiss and head for the door before he can stop me. I need to get out of here.
“I shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours,” he calls out, and I throw up a hand so he knows I heard him.
I walk through the lobby but get bored quickly, so I decide to check out the casino. I’ve never been much of a gambler. In fact, I’ve only done it a couple of times and both times were at a casino in Connecticut. I only played the slots, so I guess that’s where I’m headed.
“Excuse me?” a soft, male voice questions, and I look around. “Would you mind helping me out?”
I turn and see an older man, probably in his late-seventies, standing by a long table that I think is a craps table. He’s got bright blue eyes, similar to mine, light, almost-white hair, and a kind smile. “Me?”