by Chiah Wilder
“Dance with her already,” the caterer huffed. “One thing’s for sure—it’ll get your mind off the food.” A wry smile lifted the corners of her sexy little mouth.
Tank gazed at her.
“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your job?” Quinn snapped back at her, digging her nails into his button-down shirt. To Tank, she purred, “Come on, baby. Let’s get all hot and sweaty.” She tried to jerk him toward the dance floor, hissing, “Come on,” when he stood still.
Tank shot the caterer one last look, taking in her long, wavy hair and perfectly arched brows, drawn together over defiant eyes. Turning, she walked toward the kitchen door, her shapely hips swaying with each step, and Tank groaned inwardly.
Quinn blew out a long, exaggerated sigh. “You’re being very rude.”
“No,” he growled, diverting his attention away from the closed door to the whining princess. “You are. What’s your problem?”
“I don’t like competing with the help.”
“You don’t like competing with anyone.”
“That’s true” She giggled. “You know me so well. Come on, let’s have a good time.”
“Not before you understand you can’t treat people like that, and you don’t own me.”
She blinked dramatically, as if she were about to burst into tears. But he knew better. They’d played this game too many times.
“Look, we’re friends. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you when we bumped into each other at these bullshit parties, but that doesn’t mean I owe you anything. We’re not dating, we’re not even sleeping together, so back off the possessive shit. Got it?”
“Yes, Drew.” Her lips twisted into a snarl, and then she evened them out into a seductive smile. “Can we dance now, please?”
“And stop calling me Drew. Only my mom can call me that.”
“But Tank sounds weird. Anyway, you were Drew in high school, and that’s where we met.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Before he could argue much else, she drew him onto the crammed, wooden dance floor, with her designer perfume permeating his clothes as they swayed to a slow R&B song.
Quinn sighed happily against his neck, causing his muscles to tighten as she molded her body to his. He was sure as hell going to disrupt her feeling of contentment, because he was still pissed about the way she treated the caterer, and her feeling of having some monopoly over him was beyond annoying. He didn’t owe her shit.
“So, no Mason tonight?”
After the way she’d acted back at the buffet table, Tank didn’t even try to play nice with the subject of her long-distance fiancé. Mason was rarely with Quinn at any of the social events in town.
She pulled back, a frown creasing her forehead. “He’s working in L.A. He didn’t have time to fit the party into his schedule.”
“Of course. L.A. is about a two-hour drive from here, so I can see how difficult that would be to fit in on a Saturday night.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It is. I’ve told you how hard he works. We both do.”
“Right.”
Work was code for fucking around with other people. She had explained to Tank that she and Mason had an open relationship. Their engagement was all for show to make her daddy happy, so whenever Mason made his way up to Santa Teresita, they played the loving couple. But Mason wasn’t in town often, leaving Quinn with plenty of free time on her hands. Tank knew that no matter how much she professed to be a rebel, pissing her parents off with her antics, there was no way in hell she’d ever marry a man who wasn’t in her social class. Though she’d deny it, Quinn Fitzgerald was a snob through and through. But she gave a mean blow job.
Leaning back into him, Tank’s eyes wandered back to the buffet table. A thread of disappointment wove its way through him when there was no sign of the spitfire. Maybe she’s hiding out until after I leave. The sass in her words flashed through his mind. Nah. She’s no wilting flower.
“This is where I bow out.” Tank pulled himself away from Quinn as she glared at him. “I can’t spend all my time here with you. Go, spread your beauty around the place. There are dudes who look to be your type that I’m sure are waiting to meet you.”
“I don’t want to meet anyone, Drew. You’re the only one I want to hang out with tonight.”
That wasn’t going to happen.
“I already told you—I’m gonna grab some chow and head out. I’m itching for a ride.”
“I’d love to ride on your motorcycle. We can ride along the coast and make love on the beach. Doesn’t that sound romantic?”
“It does. You and Mason should do that when he comes to town.” Extracting himself from her grip, he headed back toward the catering table, his stomach grumbling something fierce. Or that’s what he was going to tell himself until he was face-to-face with the brunette again.
“I’ll go with you,” Quinn offered.
Fuck no!
Before Tank could say anything, the music stopped, and the sound of chimes rose above the chattering guests. Tabby’s father walked over to the microphone on the stage and began a long-winded toast to his daughter and her fiancé.
Two skinny women in slinky, backless gowns ran up to Quinn, hugging each other. Grateful for the distraction, Tank took advantage of the situation and got lost in the crowd. Making a quick stop at the bar for a double shot of bourbon, he then headed over to the buffet table where guests were lining up.
Spotting her talking to a waiter at the carving station, Tank sauntered over to the table.
“Smells good,” he said, eying her before looking at the prime rib, ham, and pork loin.
“So, you made it back. I was pretty sure you’d forget about the food with the stunning company taking up your attention.”
Tank picked up a plate. “Just goes to show you’ve got me all wrong.”
“That’s to be expected since I don’t know you. But, I admit, I thought a pretty face would win out over a full stomach.”
Tank slathered au jus over a piece of roast beef. “The right person with a pretty face would.”
A ghost of a smile played across her lips. “Well said. I suppose I misjudged you.” Arching her brow, she started to walk away.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“You aren’t the only guest at the party. I have a lot of work to do.”
“The least you can do is give me a name before you go. Seems fair.”
“Life isn’t always fair, is it, Drew?”
He gripped his plate a little harder. “That’s not my name—it’s Tank.”
She laughed. “So Drew’s a nickname?”
“Not exactly.”
She looked at the growing crowd behind him. “I have to run. Why don’t you come find me after the party, and maybe you’ll get it.”
He felt like he was being hit by an eighteen-wheeler when she looked down at the white tablecloth and back up at him through her lashes.
“Damn, you’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”
Smiling sweetly, she winked at him. “Is there any other way to be?” With that, she took off.
Damn. With his dick now hard, he quickly turned away and hurried across the room, toward the garden. Finding a seat under the twinkling lights, he leaned back and stared out into the darkness. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore filled his ears and calmed his nerves.
If he had it his way, the sassy brunette would be on her back behind the bougainvillea trees with his head between her legs before they could get to the whole name exchanging bullshit. She was teasing him, and he fucking loved it.
He looked back into the ballroom, knowing it was just a matter of time before Quinn figured out he wasn’t at his assigned seat. Picking up his plate, he moved toward the shadows in the back of the yard, then settled into a wrought iron chair.
He’d stay put until the shindig was over, just to find out her name and to spend some time with her.
He speared a morsel of beef with his fork and popped
it into his mouth. Chewing slowly, he stared at the inky water below.
Game on, darlin’.
Lena
Lena peeked out the door and scanned the ballroom for the umpteenth time, searching for Tank. Since she’d left him at the carving station, she hadn’t seen him again. The chair he was assigned to was empty. She’d checked and double-checked the seating chart soon after the snobby blonde dragged him to the dance floor so she could easily find him.
He probably left. I should’ve toned down the smartass remarks. She pulled her hair back in a high ponytail, feeling the rush of cool air against her neck. I don’t care if he’s here or not. He was a handsome man with a great build—that’s all. Good-looking guys who know it are a dime a dozen. Who cares? She did, and that’s what annoyed her.
When she’d first seen Tank talking with Melanie at the buffet table, she’d stopped in her tracks. Standing well over six feet, he was every woman’s fantasy come true. His muscular build, sandy-colored hair, warm brown eyes, and rugged features took her breath away. What did her in was the sleekly cut jacket he wore, pressed perfectly against his enticing broad shoulders, and the black dress pants that hugged a narrow waist and hips.
Lena licked her lips at the memory and scanned the room, again.
“Are you going to stop trying to find that hunk, or are we all supposed to pretend we don’t notice? You’re not being very subtle.” Lena playfully narrowed her eyes at her best server, Charity, who was laughing at her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She picked up an empty tray. “I’m taking a general survey of the party, that’s all.”
“Are you sure you’re not taking a general survey of him?” Charity looked out over the guests. “Is he still here?”
“Who?” Lena replied.
Charity shook her head. “The guy you kept talking to at the buffet table earlier.”
“Oh, him.” She waved her hand dismissively in the air. “He was just another guest. I have no idea which ones are still here or which ones have left. We’re responsible for the food, not the partygoers.”
Matthew burst out of the kitchen with another tray of champagne glasses. “These people can drink. They’re lapping up bottles of Dom Pérignon like it’s bottled water.”
“I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a long time,” Lena groaned.
Matthew nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Everyone’s been telling me how much they loved the food.”
“That’s good to know.”
“I better get going—the natives are going to get restless.” He scurried away, the tray balancing a bit precariously in his hand.
Lena looked out at the thinning crowd and smiled. Everything seemed to have turned out well. The food was a success, and a few elite guests had asked her to cater their parties in the near future.
So why the hell wasn’t she reveling in it? Instead, her attention kept drifting back to Drew. Or Tank. No, Drew, because Tank is ridiculous. Why am I obsessing about this? All they did was flirt with each other. She had to admit, she’d enjoyed it, and by the way he’d teased her, he seemed to like it too. But the way his heated gaze had trailed up and down her body made her shiver, taking her completely by surprise. Lena was pretty sure he would light her up like a neon sign, but she wasn’t looking for anything extracurricular. The catering and restaurant business were booming, and she’d reached most of her five-year goals in almost two. It wasn’t the time to become cocky or complacent; she had to keep pushing herself and reaching for the stars.
“Dating can wait,” she muttered under her breath, though she doubted he was the dating type. I bet he’s a real heartbreaker, and I sure don’t need that in my life. She cracked her knuckles and took a deep breath before lapsing into breakdown and cleanup mode for the night.
“Is it later?”
The deep, familiar voice thrummed along her nerve endings. She spun around, nearly jumping out of her skin as their eyes locked. Leaning casually against one of the stainless-steel counters, he was standing less than a foot away from her.
“You’re not allowed in here—staff only.”
“What are you gonna do about it?”
As he eyed her up and down like a hungry animal, she swallowed as she adjusted her black linen jacket and nibbled on her index finger. Catching herself, she forced her hand back down to her side.
“My name’s Lena.” She offered her other hand to the well-built man who was giving off some serious sexual vibes. “Nice to meet you, Drew.”
He took her hand in a warm, firm grip, then resumed checking her out.
“I’m up here.”
His gaze quickly snapped to hers. “I know that. And call me Tank. No one really calls me Drew.”
“The blonde did.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back.
A slow grin spread over Tank’s face. “I was Drew back in high school. You don’t need to worry about her.”
“The only thing I’m worried about is getting out of here before the crack of dawn.”
He took in the bustling kitchen staff. “Looks like your crew has things under control.”
“Where does Tank come from? Did you like to play with tiny plastic ARMY guys as a kid?”
Chuckling, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, no. I’m built like a tank, so when I’m around, people tend to get out of the way.”
“That can have its advantages. But the reason behind the nickname is a bit of a letdown.” She could barely hide the teasing smile creeping across her lips.
“You’re a spitfire, aren’t you?”
“What? You want it to be easy? That would be boring for a man like you.”
It was obvious he wasn’t a man without female companionship, and Lena wasn’t looking to be one of many, even if a roll between the sheets with him would be unforgettable. And maybe that was what she needed to beat down the constant stress of the restaurant industry: something without strings, something distracting, and nothing permanent—that was the paramount rule.
“You think you know so much about me?”
“Yeah, I’ve got an idea.”
“Let me just say, I’m used to easy. This” —he waved his hand in the space between them with a pleased grin— “is a good change.”
Why do you have to be so damn sexy?
Spreading her arms out, she told him, “I have to make sure everything’s going okay.” Translation: She had to get the hell away from him. Tank was making her body misbehave, and she didn’t like it one bit.
“I can lend a hand.”
Lena walked back into the ballroom with Tank at her heels. She looked around at the breaking down of the event and watched her staff put plates, chaffing dishes, and all sorts of cookware into large containers to take back with them on the truck. A few of the guests were still mingling on the moonlit lawn in the garden area, while some were hanging out around the bar area, downing drinks.
“Muscle would be helpful with loading the trucks.” She didn’t even try for subtle as she ran her gaze up and down the length of his muscular body. From what she could see, there wasn’t an ounce of excess fat on him anywhere. A strong urge to rub up against him took hold of her, but she pushed it away. I have to shut this down—now. “But I’m good for now, thanks. We have a good system going here, and someone new would slow us down.”
Laughing, he threw his hands up in mock surrender. “I get it. I’ll get out of your way and come back when you’re less occupied.”
“You do have an interesting habit of being persistent, don’t you?”
“As if you don’t like it.”
Flushing down to her toes, she tried to keep her facial expression neutral. The more she was around him, the harder it was getting to pretend he had no effect on her. This is just a fun flirtation, nothing more. It can’t be. If she didn’t stop egging him on, Sexy Man would decide he needed her digits in his phone and her panties hanging on his wall of conquests. And since she
wasn’t a one-of-many type of woman, it was better to shut it down now.
“If I said I liked it, that would only encourage you, and I don’t think you need the extra ego boost. Every single woman in this room has looked at you at least once tonight. I don’t do competition.”
There—that was clear. Now he knew where she stood. Lena rarely had a problem telling it like it was. Over the years, she’d found that trait could be an asset and a curse, depending on who was on the other end of the conversation. Most people didn’t know how to handle her bluntness, but Tank seemed to manage it just fine. Everything rolled off his back, to the point where it was almost a challenge. The idea that he could handle her made her abruptly think of all the ways he could handle her in bed. She wiped her damp hands along her pants as heat flared through her body.
Tank jerked his head back. “Does it look like there’s competition? Or that I’m looking for anything serious?”
“No, but I just wanted to clear the air. I really have to get back to work, so go. Do whatever it was you were doing with all the fancy people, and I’ll act like I’m not watching your butt as you walk away. Okay?”
For a split second, Tank’s expression looked triumphant, and then he nodded. When he walked away, she could have sworn he put a little extra swagger in his step. He looked back to see if she was watching him, and she was. His smirk sunk low into her belly, spreading waves of warm, throbbing arousal throughout her body.
“It’s been a while since that’s happened,” she muttered under her breath.
There was only one way to get herself under control and back in check, which meant some serious manual labor was in order. And since Becky had called in sick, they were short a set of hands. It was time to get down and dirty.
A little over an hour later, feeling like she was sweating buckets, the truck was loaded up while her staff waited for the go ahead to leave for the night. She closed her eyes, letting the cool night breeze wash over her damp skin. Blooming night jasmine filled her nose as she took a deep, calming breath.
A busy life had taught her to savor the little moments. Caught up in the day-to-day stresses of running her own business, Lena had to remind herself to slow down. But most of the time, she didn’t take her own advice. She had tunnel vision, focusing on every step of her career. There was more to life, but her goals were unwavering, and she was determined to conquer them all. Above all else, Lena wanted to make her parents proud. She was an extension of their amazing legacy, abruptly cut short when they—
