by Boone Brux
“You will. I have a good feeling about Lawson’s.”
“Do you?” She peered at him as if searching for Waldo in a seek-and-find book. “Really?”
“Really.” He ran his finger back and forth over her bent knee. “You’ve got to stop psyching yourself out. You’ll do great. I have confidence in you.”
She blew out a breath. “Thanks. That helps.”
“So, tell me about your parents.”
“Not much to tell.” With that, she started sipping again, the straw emanating a constant glow.
“What do they do for a living?” From knowing Kinni, he would have guessed professors or other white-collar jobs. “Are you following in their footsteps by becoming a lawyer?”
“No, they’re self-employed.” The plastic penis lit up again and her gaze darted around the bar. She swallowed, but still didn’t look at him. “They do a lot of community work, teaching. They’re really into energy efficiency.”
“Are they engineers?” He could totally see her coming from an engineering family. That would explain her love of all things organized and orderly.
“Yeah, something like that.” She straightened and set her glass on the table. “Joya and Linc are headed over here.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see their friends winding their way through the crowd, and then looked back to Kinni. For some reason she was avoiding the subject of her parents. Fine, he’d drop it for now, but this was the second time she’d aroused his interest and he wanted to know why she avoided talking about her family.
“Hey, do you guys want to get out of here?” Joya asked. “There’s a club down a block. They have a great DJ and not”—she hitched her thumb toward the stage—“naked women on poles.”
“I love naked women on poles,” Linc said.
“Yes, but you’re a Neanderthal, so your opinion doesn’t count.”
Kinni jumped to her feet. “Anything is better than this place.”
“Great. I’ll go pry Kyle and Roxy apart.” Joya stomped toward the couple as if she were about to break up a fight.
“I’ll meet you guys outside.” Price rose to his feet and skirted the table. “I want to see if my driver is back. If not, I’ll give him a call and let him know where we’ll be.”
He’d hoped Kinni would follow him outside, but instead she joined the other women. It looked as if there wouldn’t be a replay of this afternoon in the car. At least not yet. Once they got to the dance club, he’d have ample opportunity to turn on the charm. If he was lucky, Kinni would be going home with him tonight.
Chapter Ten
The flashing and spinning lights sent strobes around the ceiling and walls of the cavernous room, disorienting Kinni. She’d felt fine while sitting down, but once she stood up the two margaritas she’d drunk shot straight to her head. Her fingers gripped the railing in an attempt to minimize the swaying. She probably should have eaten more before going out, but she’d be fine once she sat down. As they slid through the crush of people, she could see there were no free tables available, and in the end, the best they could manage was a tall round table to stand at.
“Let’s do shots.” Before anybody could agree, or in Kinni’s case, disagree, Roxy ducked into the crowd and disappeared.
There was no telling what her friend would bring back for them to drink, and no way any of it was going down Kinni’s throat. Even if Roxy brought up the wedding favor, she’d politely decline. After all, she had an interview tomorrow. A big interview. The biggest of her career. Her friend needed to respect that.
A fuzzy tingle drifted across her brain, and the urge to laugh gripped her. She didn’t know why she wanted to laugh. Unlike her previous mood at the Bush Company, now she felt good, all tingly and energized. Life was amazing. Tomorrow she had an interview with Lawson and Associates—frickin’ Lawson. She was going to wow the crap out of them. When she was finished, they’d think she was the most awesome applicant they’d ever had. Being a lawyer would be awesome. This whole night was awesome.
“Where is Roxy with those shots?” She bounced up and down on her toes, grabbing Price’s arm. “I want to dance.” She locked her fingers with his and hauled him onto the floor. “Dance with me.”
“Uh, okay.” His eyes widened, but he let her drag him into the mass of bobbing bodies. “Are you all right?”
“I’m great.” Taking up the rhythm, she raised her hands in the air and let the music flow over her. When she was little she used to dance with her mom all the time. Motown, Flock of Seagulls, but her favorite had been Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” Why had she stopped dancing? “Actually, I’ve never felt better.”
God, he was good-looking. Why hadn’t she ever noticed how handsome Price was? All those years being around him, but never truly seeing him. A healthy surge of desire raced through her body, adding to the happy glow pulsing inside. She circled her hips and then backed toward him until they touched. His hand glided over her waist, and her ass nuzzled against his groin. From his reaction, the one pressing against her backside, he liked that move a lot. Why hadn’t she seduced him sooner? Having his hands on her was smoking hot and dredging up all kinds of wonderfully nasty fantasies.
The song changed, the beat quickening. People swarmed onto the dance floor, making it impossible to stay connected. Giving in to the rhythm, she stepped away and got lost in the music. It had been a long time since she’d felt this free.
…
She was drunk, no doubt about it. Was it horrible of him to admit that he kind of liked tipsy Kinni? The passion and fire that he’d suspected bubbled under her routines and organization spilled from her now, and it was sexy as hell. Actually, way hotter than he’d imagined it would be.
His gaze drank her in. The way she moved, rubbed against him, and let him freely touch her had his pulse racing and his cock tightening. It was sad to think that tomorrow she’d be back to her proper self. Not that he didn’t like buttoned-up Kinni, but he definitely enjoyed witnessing this side of her.
Sweat glistened on the swells of her breasts, but she showed no sign of tiring. After the third song, he took her hand and led her back to the table.
She gave him a girlie pout he hadn’t imagined existed in her repertoire of expressions. “But I want to dance.”
“I need a break.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her to the table. “We can dance later.”
Her eyes brightened and she broke free from his hold, rushing to the table. “Shots.”
Six shot glasses filled with dark brown liquid and topped with whipped cream sat on a tray in the center of the table. “We waited for you,” Roxy said.
“What are they?” Kinni dipped her finger in the glass and then stuck it in her mouth. “Yum.”
“Blow jobs.” Roxy set a shot in front of each person. “But don’t touch the glass with your hands. There’s a technique to this.”
From owning a bar, Price knew how to make hundreds of drinks, but this was a new one. He glanced at Kinni, uncertain letting her take the shot was a wise idea. She was already feeling no pain. “Are you sure you want to drink that?”
“Of course I want to drink it.” She grinned at Roxy. “See how I just said yes.”
“I see,” her friend confirmed. “You’re doing great.”
“Don’t forget you have an interview tomorrow.” When had he become the sensible one? “I just don’t want you to be sick.”
“I’ll be fine.” She waved her arm in the air. “Now let’s do this.”
“Okay, well, here’s the rules,” Roxy said. “Everybody set the shot in front of you. Then clasp your hands behind your back.” Each one of them followed her instructions. “Then you take the glass in your mouth, shoot it, and set it back on the table. All without hands. I’ll go first.” Like a boss, she mouthed the glass, straightened, dumping the alcohol down her throat, and then set it back on the table. The group clapped, and she performed a dainty curtsy. “That’s how it’s done.”
/> One by one they successfully executed the shot, receiving a round of applause. The taste of chocolate and coffee coated his tongue. Sugar, sugar, and sugar, the key ingredient for a major headache in the morning.
“Let’s do another,” Kinni said.
“How about some water?” he countered.
“Party pooper.” For a couple of seconds she frowned at him and then picked up her glass and ran her tongue around the inside of glass. “That’s so good. I need another one.”
“No, you don’t.” He took the glass from her and set it on the tray. “Remember your interview.”
“Yes, I do, and I haven’t forgotten.”
The waitress paused at the table. “Can I get you guys anything?”
Before he could stop her, Kinni said, “Another round. My treat.”
“And waters, please,” he added. “Six of them.” At the very least he’d keep her hydrated and force some aspirin down her when they left.
“Maybe Price is right,” Joya said. “You should slow down a little. You’re not a big drinker to begin with.”
“I’m fine.” She made a shooing motion at her friend and stumbled. Before she could build up momentum, Price caught and steadied her. As if not noticing her clumsiness, she continued, “I’m just celebrating my friends’ marriage.” Her expression turned sappy. “Can you believe you’re going to be Mrs. Bennett in a few days?” Leaning across Kyle, she groped for Roxy. “I love you guys.”
Yep, she was definitely drunk. He knew the stages all too well, especially with women. First they were overly happy. Check. Then came a love for all people and things. Check.
In another ten seconds she would love the music or her shoelaces. If she kept on drinking, it was only a matter of time before she’d slip into the waterworks stage, crying over everything from what a crappy friend she was to the short life span of the mayfly. It would be downhill from there, but hopefully he could hold her steady at loving the world with copious amounts of water and dancing.
The rest of the night was spent wrangling Kinni away from ordering more shots and keeping her busy. It hadn’t taken long for the others to jump in to help keep her corralled. Joya and Roxy escorted her to the bathroom, diverting her side trips to the bar, and he’d kept her dancing and the water flowing, hoping to minimize tomorrow’s hangover.
At two o’clock, they stumbled from the bar and into the waiting limo. Kinni snuggled next to him in the backseat and instantly fell asleep. All in all, he’d done a good job of babysitting. They’d avoided the crying phase, and though she might experience a slight hangover tomorrow, the effects should be tolerable.
Roxy and Kyle got out first, then Linc, leaving Joya with them. She stared at Kinni curled up against him. “What’s up with this?”
“She’s asleep.”
“No, I mean you two. What’s going on?”
He brushed a swath of black hair away from Kinni’s face. “I’m not sure yet.” His gaze shifted to Joya. “We’ll see what happens.”
She shook her head. “I did not see this coming.”
A chuckle vibrated from him. “You and me both.”
Chapter Eleven
A firing squad. She needed a firing squad to put her out of her misery. Sun streamed through the window, making it impossible to open her eyes. She rolled to the side and shoved a pillow against her face. The action sent a wave of nausea churning through her gut and started a ceaseless pounding against the inside of her skull. She moaned.
“Morning, princess.”
She knew that voice. But why was he here, inside her apartment, inside her bedroom? Forcing herself to face the day, she pried her eyelids open, taking in her surroundings. “Where am I?”
“My place.” He sat on the edge of the bed and held out a cup of coffee. “How do you feel?”
“My skin hurts. Actually, everything hurts.” Each movement incited excruciating, all-encompassing torture throughout her body. I feel like I was hit by a train.”
“Yes, well, you took a ride on several of those trains last night. The tequila train, amaretto train, Baileys and Kahlúa train.” He set the coffee on the bedside table and helped her sit up. “Drink this. The caffeine will help with the headache.”
“Thanks.” She took a small sip, testing her stomach’s reaction. When nothing happened, she took another drink and returned the cup to the table. “Why am I at your place?”
“You don’t remember?”
Oh God, what had she done? “Not really.”
“You insisted we come back here and make love.” He stood and walked into the connecting bathroom. “You were all over me. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
She stared at the doorway, dread replacing nausea. “So we…you and I…we did it?”
“If what you mean by ‘did it’ is have crazy rabbit sex…” He exited the bathroom, carrying two fluffy towels and stopped. “Then no. We didn’t do it.”
She sagged against the pillow. “We didn’t?”
“No.” He set the towels on the bed. “Usually, I prefer my partner to be conscious during sex.”
She covered her face with her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. Partying Kinni was a lot of fun.” He lifted his eyebrows and widened his gaze. “And peppy.”
“This is why I don’t drink.” She groaned and sank into the bedding. “I remember dancing, and the shot Roxy bought, but then things get a little blurry.” The reality of the day rushed back to her and she bolted upright. “What time is it?”
“Eleven thirty.”
“Eleven thirty!” All thought of her condition vanished. “I have my interview in an hour.” She glanced down at her wrinkled shirt. Somehow, she’d been divested of her pants, but didn’t want to know how, figuring she had Price to thank. “Oh no, my car is still at the strip club.”
“We can get it afterward. Lawson’s is a quick drive away.” He stood and pointed to the towels. “Go take a shower.”
“Shower? No, I need to go home.” She yanked her pants off the bench at the end of the bed and shoved her foot into the leg. “I can’t wear this to the interview. I need clothes.”
“Relax.” He pulled a pen and paper out of the drawer in the bedside table. “Write down all your sizes and everything you need, you know, all your girlie stuff.”
“Why?” She stood and dragged her pants up to her waist.
“I’ll run down to the boutique and pick everything up.” He shoved the pad at her. “The woman who runs the shop, Margaret, is great. She’ll know what you need.”
“It would be better if you drove me home. And cheaper.”
“Do you want to chance being late?” He opened her palm and set the pen and paper in her hand. “By the time I got you to your house, you’d have fifteen minutes maximum to get dressed before we’d have to leave again.”
She mentally calculated the time requirements. If she didn’t shower—scratch that, she definitely needed to wash off whatever had spilled across her wrists. Okay, shower, hair, makeup, dressed—tick, tick, tick. Damn it, he was right. She clicked the pen and jotted down her sizes and toiletries, mentally cursing herself. How could she have been so careless? It was as if all her common sense had drained out her ears after the second margarita, a margarita he challenged her to drink.
“This is your fault.” She shoved the list at him. “Consider last night your favor. Debt paid.”
“My fault? How do you figure?”
“‘Stay and have a drink. Let my driver take you home.’” Her voice took on a na-na-na cadence. “‘Say yes. Have fun. Relax.’ Well, I hope you’re happy.” She snatched up the towels. “I might have funned myself right out of my dream job.”
With those departing words, she stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. In reality she knew it wasn’t his fault she’d gotten drunk. And if she was honest, from what she could remember, she’d had a great time. It would take all her self-control to get into the right frame of mind and focus on the upcoming
interview.
Before stripping down, she locked the bathroom door. Price was the kind of guy who would deliver everything she needed at an inopportune time, like when she was still in the shower, or naked and drying off. Yes, he was doing her a favor, but no, she definitely didn’t trust him to respect her privacy.
The hot jets pulsed against her skin. If she had more time and wasn’t so frantic about being late, she might have actually enjoyed it. But time was of the essence, so she hit the high spots, did a quick wash of her hair, and rinsed. She stepped out of the glass enclosure and wrapped one of the thick towels around her hair.
While she buffed her body dry with the second towel, he knocked on the door. “I’m back.”
“That was quick.” She wound the towel around her and opened the bathroom door. “Did they have everything?”
His gaze skated up and down her body for a second before saying, “Uh, yeah, I called the shop first. They had most of it ready when I got there.”
A flush that had nothing to do with her hot shower crept through her. Suddenly, she was very aware of her near-naked state. “Thank you.” She tugged the large blue bag out of his grip and gave him an awkward smile. “I appreciate you doing this.”
“It’s the least I could do, you know, since your situation is my fault.”
“All right, so maybe it’s not your fault.” She stepped back and shut the door halfway. “Not completely your fault, anyway.”
She closed the door, locked it again, and then dumped the contents of the bag onto the counter. The haul was impressive. A charcoal-colored pencil skirt and short blazer, ruby-red blouse, and a pair of black boots. Understated and classy, exactly the look she wanted to portray. She had to admit, this outfit was better than the one she’d picked out from her own wardrobe.
A small pink box contained a retro-style earrings-and-necklace set, and would be the perfect touch to polish off her look. Setting to work, she dressed, applied the most basic amount of makeup, and twisted her hair into a knot at the base of her neck. When she was finished, she stood back and took in her reflection. Amazing. The look was something she’d tried to create dozens of times, but she always ended up looking more severe than natural. Instead of her helping Price with his tux, maybe she should have asked him to help her with her wardrobe. Or at the very least, introduce her to the manager at the boutique.
