by Boone Brux
“So?” Oh hell, why couldn’t he have been like every other man in her life and not listened to her or remembered what she said after five minutes? “I didn’t say I was good.”
“Come on, I bet you remember something.” From the cunning smile he gave her, he may as well have shouted, “Game on.” “I don’t know about anybody else, but I’d love to see you dance.”
“I didn’t know you were a dancer.” Roxy scooted forward on the seat and pinned her with a look every bit as intense as Price’s. “Do something for us.”
Now she knew what being trapped on Jurassic Park would be like, caught between two velociraptors. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” he goaded, nudging her shoulder. “It will be fun.”
Roxy’s eyes lit up, as if she’d just remembered the favor. “He’s right, Kinni. This is a perfect opportunity to spread your wings.”
Please, somebody shoot me. “My wings are fine where they’re at.” Thank God Price had ordered her a drink. She dropped the penis straw into the green liquid and sipped. With each slow pull, the phallic plastic lit up. The action kept her mouth busy, as if that were a good enough excuse to not perform.
“Come on, I’ll dance with you.” Roxy stood, her hips undulating side to side. Claps from the men spurred her on and she held her hands out to Kinni. “It will be fun.”
No amount of coaxing would uproot her from the seat. “Nope. Sorry.” She pointed to her glass. “I’m too busy drinking.”
“Don’t be a party pooper.” Her friend did a little twirl and lifted her hands upward, running them through her hair. “I love this song.”
A woman dressed in thigh-high boots, a pink halter, and the tiniest pair of black sequined panties Kinni had ever seen shimmied toward the group. “Is this where all the fun people are hanging out?”
Everybody except Kinni gave a whoop.
“It’s my bachelorette party.” Roxy pointed to Kyle. “And his bachelor party.”
“Congratulations.” The woman danced to Roxy and then swayed in time with her beat, staring at Kyle. “You should celebrate with a lap dance.”
The suggestion sent Kinni scooting against the back of the sofa. The last thing she wanted to see was Kyle, or anybody else for that matter, getting a lap dance. She drained the rest of her margarita and looked around. Where was the waitress when she needed her?
“Thanks, but I’ve got my sexy dancer right here.” Kyle grabbed Roxy around the waist and pulled her onto his lap, inciting a shriek of laughter from her.
“Well, what about the rest of you?” The woman edged toward the couch, her gaze riveted on Price. “Any takers?”
The heat of embarrassment flamed the uncomfortable situation and alarm shot through Kinni. She glanced from the stripper to him. From his half-cocked grin hanging on his face, he appeared to be seriously contemplating the woman’s offer. Never going to happen. The only thing worse than watching Kyle get a lap dance was being crammed next to Price while the stripper gyrated and convulsed all over him.
“What do you say?” Kinni turned to face him fully. Maybe a quick reminder about their pact would save her from the imminent torture he was clearly about to subject her to. “Do you want a lap dance, Price?”
His eyes cut to her, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times before pinching together in a frown. Again his gaze darted to the dancer, his scowl deepening, and then back to Kinni. After a few seconds he said, “No?”
“Are you sure?” The sequins on the tiny panties the dancer wore winked as she closed the distance between her and the couch. “Because you don’t sound sure.”
A whimper slipped from him. He sounded like a boy, forced to stand on the curb and watch while all the other kids bought treats from the ice cream man.
“What was that, Price?” Humor tinted Kinni’s question. “I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
He inhaled deeply, as if drawing in willpower along with the breath. “No…thank you. Though I do not wish to partake in your talents…” The tightness around his mouth softened into a smile, and his head slowly turned. “Maybe my friend would.” All eyes turned toward Linc, but she knew that’s not who Price was talking about. “Kinni, would you like a lap dance from this lovely lady?”
Damn, he was quick. “I would, but—” She shot to her feet. “No lap.” The stripper took a step toward her. “I’ve got to use the restroom.”
Practically climbing over Joya and Linc, she broke free from the seating cluster and hoofed it to the back of the club. She knew her freedom was temporary. No doubt Price would have some sort of retaliation in store for her tonight. And most certainly it would be neither character-building nor fun.
Chapter Nine
She’d been in the bathroom far longer than any person needed to be, no doubt a feeble attempt to avoid him. Pressing her to order a drink might have been viewed as issuing her a challenge, and she’d retaliated by denying him a lap dance. Not that he’d wanted one, but it would have been fun to watch her squirm a little. It would have been even better to watch her reaction to receiving a lap dance. The image made him chuckle. Fleeing the scene of a public lap dance was exactly the response he’d expect from her.
Over the past couple of days things had definitely changed between them, and he liked where they were headed. Though he certainly wasn’t in the market for a monogamous relationship, the idea was starting to grow on him. Unlike his previous dating experiences, his time with her wasn’t just clubbing and eating out. They were doing everyday things. She’d even met his parents. Sure, he’d originally planned that because of the wedding favor, but he’d liked her in that part of his life—liked it a lot.
Though he would barely admit it to himself, he kind of liked the fact that they hadn’t jumped into the sack. After taking her home from his parents’ house, it could have easily happened. All it would have taken was the slightest hint that she was open to him coming inside, but she’d been the strong one. Or maybe she hadn’t felt the spark, but he had a hard time believing that.
The kiss in the car had been hot, and the way she’d responded to him even better than he’d imagined. There was a river of lava under her cool facade, and he couldn’t wait to bring it to the surface.
The bathroom door creaked open and Kinni stuck her head out the narrow opening. When she saw him resting against the wall, arms crossed, waiting, her shoulders slumped and she trudged the rest of the way out of the restroom.
“You didn’t think you’d get away that easily, did you?”
She stopped several feet away and glowered at him. “I’d hoped.”
“Nice try. Actually—” He shook his head. “That was a rather pathetic attempt.”
“What can I say? The thought of having some bejeweled floozy gyrating all over me does that to me.”
Her exaggerated contempt was extremely satisfying. He knew she wasn’t defeated, not by any stretch of the imagination. If he could keep her from leaving, there was no doubt she’d rally and give as good as she got. “Come on, I’ll buy you another drink.”
“I don’t think so. I’m going home.”
He shook his head. “That would be a big mistake.”
“It would actually be the smartest thing I could do.” She headed for the red-draped opening. “So please don’t regale me with reasons I should stay here.”
“Okay.” He straightened and followed behind. “But let me make a few observations. First off, Roxy’s bachelorette party has already taken a dive with Dani leaving. If you bail, too, her feelings might be hurt. Secondly, if you stay, Roxy will see that you’re making an effort to fulfill her wedding favor.”
“I’ve already delivered on the favor by tucking a stack of dollar bills into several pairs of obscenely small G-strings, and by drinking out of that gigantic penis straw.” She pulled to a stop and pivoted. “But…I’d hate for Roxy to feel cheated about her party. I’ll be glad when this wedding is over.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “Three more days, and after that I swear I
will never help with another wedding.”
“You don’t mean that.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “You love organizing this kind of stuff. And”—to add emphasis to what he was saying, he jabbed a finger at her—“you’re so good at it.” Furthering his argument to keep her there, he gave her a squeeze of reassurance. “If you leave now, Roxy will expect twice the participation with the rest of the wedding fun. Why not get it over with? Let her see you enjoying yourself with, say…” He laid his hand against his chest. “Me. Then if she says anything about not putting yourself out there, you can reference tonight.”
“Good point.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her toe. “But don’t think for a minute you’ve tricked me into believing you’re doing this for my own good. I know you’ve got shenanigans up your sleeve.”
“Shenanigans?”
“And chicanery,” she added with a glare.
“Whoa, I don’t think anybody has ever accused me of shenanigans and chicanery in the same sentence.”
“I highly doubt that.” She spun away from him, but stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “And whatever crap you’re planning to pull, don’t think I won’t retaliate.”
Again she turned and sashayed back to the group. A lively challenge had been issued, but he wasn’t sure it was he or she who did the issuing. No doubt she’d make good on her threat. His gaze drank in her departure. Maybe the alcohol was to blame for his feel-good glow, but the sight of her was seriously playing havoc with his self-control. Spending time alone with her sounded like a great way to occupy the rest of the evening. He shoved his hands in his front pockets and tried to ignore the ever-tightening stirrings of lust.
The group had semi-dispersed by the time he got back to where Kinni sat. Roxy and Kyle danced close together toward the back of the club, away from the crowd, clearly having their own party. Joya and Linc sat at the horseshoe-shaped bar. Though he couldn’t hear what they were saying, he assumed they were having one of their usual heated arguments when she punched him in the arm.
Luck was on his side. He dropped onto the couch beside Kinni. Her ramrod-straight posture told him everything he needed to know about her mood. “Relax.” He reached for her shoulder and tugged her back against the seat. “You look like you’re about to bolt.”
“Please don’t tell me to relax. Just be happy that I’m still here.” Somewhat reluctantly, she scooted back and crossed her arms and legs, kicking her foot up and down with vigorous jolts. “Roxy isn’t even paying attention to me. I could slip out and she wouldn’t even know it.”
From the way the bride was wrapped around Kyle, dirty dancing, she was probably right. “Are you sure you want to take that chance?” He reached for his martini and took a sip. “The woman has an uncanny ability of knowing and seeing all.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” Her constricted posture eased a bit, her foot stilling. “Like she has a gigantic third eye.” She tapped her forehead. “Right here, prying into everybody’s business.”
“So it’s probably best to stay and tough out the evening.” When the only reply he got from her was an unladylike grunt, he waved over the waitress. “Could we have two more please?”
“Sure thing.” She jotted down the order. “Be right back.”
The fact that Kinni didn’t argue was a testament to her resolve. This morning they’d been all over each other in the car. Now an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Staring at the dancer onstage didn’t seem prudent, so he shifted his position on the couch to face Kinni, blocking out all other distractions. “I hope you’ve had some fun tonight.”
Her gaze tracked to him, held, and then drifted away again. “Yeah, it’s been like a day at the circus.”
“Alrighty then.” They were quiet for another minute, his mind sifting through possible conversation topics. “So.” He draped his arm across the back of the couch. “You really don’t have any hidden talents?” It was a lame attempt to get her talking, but brilliant ideas were in short supply. “I mean, even I have a hidden talent.”
“What is it?” His confession clearly piqued her interest, her eyes zeroing in on him. “It’s not something filthy, is it?”
“No, however”—he struck a cocky pose—“I do have some talent in that area, too.”
“Well…” The corner of her lip quirked up in a half sneer. “You think you do, anyway.”
“Ouch.” He’d hoped his comment would generate a reaction from her, like interest, a blush of embarrassment, or emphatic agreement. A direct shot to his ego—not so much. “You know how to wound a guy.”
“It would take a lot more than that to wound Price Lyons.” Resting her arm across her thigh, she leaned toward him. “But can I let you in on a little secret?”
He recoiled a few inches. “Are you about to crush what little self-worth I have left?”
She ignored his question. “A lot of men think they’re good in bed, but they aren’t. It’s all about them, and they pay no attention, or have no interest in fulfilling their partner’s needs.”
“I’m fairly certain I’m not that guy,” he said as he mentally assessed whether he might actually be that guy.
“And size only matters in extreme cases, as in tiny or gigantic. Like they say, it’s not the size of the wand, it’s the magic in it.”
“Good to know.” Though he wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed, or whether he wanted insight into the workings of a woman’s mind, it had gotten her talking. He tapped the side of his head. “I’m taking mental notes. Carry on.”
“Also, don’t send pictures of your junk.” A long-suffering sigh heaved from her. “Why men think we want a photo of their penis is beyond me.” She crinkled her nose. “What is it? Like a tribute? A need to immortalize your manhood?”
“Uhhh, I don’t know. I’ve never sent anybody a dick pic.” This conversation had taken a strange turn, but he had every intention of capitalizing on it. “Let me ask you this. What if the guy’s penis is doing something amazing?”
“I think ‘amazing’ is subjective.” She picked up her margarita, drained it, and then returned her glass to the table. “In my opinion, what most men believe to be amazing is really just a sad display.”
“What about party tricks?”
Confusion etched her forehead. “What do you mean?”
“Like supporting an iron or barbell with his junk.”
“Can somebody do that?” Her brows lifted. “Because I definitely want to see that.”
“Duly noted.” He pasted on a look of contemplation, repressing his urge to smile. “What if it’s dressed up as a pirate, or it has a Sharpie mustache and monocle drawn on it with a tiny top hat?”
Laughter burst from her. “Oh, I’d definitely want a picture, but only so I could post it on the Web, not because I was turned on.”
He shook his head. “Okay, I guess I’d better cross the tiny Superman costume off my shopping list.”
“I have another one.” She waved a hand at him and shifted in her seat, tucking one leg under her rear end. “Don’t name it. That’s a turn-off.”
“You mean like Little Price, or Khan, Supreme Ruler of my Pants?”
“Exactly.” Another gust of laughter escaped her. “Once I dated a guy who insisted on calling it his shrinky-dink. Unfortunately, my numerous polite attempts to get him to quit were unsuccessful, so I had to break up.”
“Oh yeah, you had to cut that guy loose.” Though he continued to smile, the idea of her dating another guy sent a jab of jealousy to the center of his chest. “Well, you’ll be happy to know I have neither named nor played dress-up with my junk.”
“That does give me a certain level of comfort.” She flicked her chin in his direction. “What about you? Ever have any quirky girlfriends?”
He tapped the face of his watch. “I don’t think we have enough time for me to list them all.” Seeking out fun and adventure meant meeting a lot of colorful and peculiar women. “Most were fine,
but there were a couple who required a quick departure and phone number change.”
She propped her elbow on the back of the couch and rested her cheek against her fist. “Any stalker girlfriends?”
“One.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “We never even dated, but somehow she deluded herself into believing she was my girlfriend. Actually, fiancée.”
“How did you get rid of her?”
“I didn’t.” He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “One day she just stopped coming around. It’s been a couple of years now since I last saw her.”
“Creepy.” The bridge of Kinni’s nose wrinkled with disgust. “I wonder where she went.”
“I don’t care as long as I don’t wake up some night and find her standing beside my bed in a wedding dress, holding a butcher knife.”
“Wow.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “You really went dark there.”
“Stalkers do that to a guy.”
The waitress arrived and set the drinks on the low table. “One martini and one margarita.”
“Cheers.” Price handed her a twenty. “No change, Trudy.”
The waitress’s eyes brightened, and she pocketed the bill. “Thank you so much.”
“Big spender,” Kinni said after the woman left.
“Naw, but I know they live on tips.” He took a drink and then set the glass down. “I waited tables through college. Guess I have a soft spot for waitstaff. What about you? Did you work during college?”
“Yeah, at an herb shop in the international district.”
That was so not what he’d expected her to say. For some reason he’d imagined her in a corporate office, maybe as a receptionist or in a data entry position. But once she said it, he could see her there, organizing herbs and sorting stock. He liked the image of a bohemian-style Kinni, cotton skirt, body-hugging tank top, sandals, with her hair down. His gaze glided over the black strands, the urge to reach out and run his fingers through them gripping him. He swallowed hard, trying to silence the impulse. “How did you get that job?”
“My mom, actually.” She dropped her straw into her new drink and picked up the glass. “She knew the owner and put in a good word.” The straw glowed when she sipped, causing Price to clench his jaw in an effort not to laugh. “I still work there sometimes, but hopefully that will end when I get a job.”
