All the Right Moves

by Jo Leigh

  It was that easy. Everyone introduced themselves, and John remembered Gwen’s name the second he heard it. He also remembered that he didn’t care for her. In fact, he’d been shocked when Mike married her last year after they’d met in a casino bar five months earlier. She was pretty, but an obvious social climber, and everything from her bottle-blond hair to her red nails was fake. So were her breasts. She wore blouses cut low enough for anyone to notice. That would have been fine, if she hadn’t made it perfectly clear that she’d married Mike only because he was a pilot.

  “Is everything all right with Kevin?” Gwen asked, and Jesus, even her concern was fake.

  “Yes, I think so.” Cassie smiled and sipped.

  Gwen eyed her with a glint of suspicion. “I saw Nancy walking him into the house.”

  Cassie refused to take the bait. Clearly she knew the woman was looking for dirt, and Cassie didn’t want to play in her sandbox. Good for her.

  “So what are you doing with your time off?” Mike asked him. “Golfing?”

  “Not a golfer. I used to play tennis once a week, but I haven’t for a while.”

  “I knew it,” Cassie said, and everyone looked at her. She gave a sheepish shrug. “Your forearms,” she muttered, and gestured vaguely. “They’re muscular. Like a tennis player’s.”

  Mike laughed and leaned forward to make a comment, but his voice died as his wife reached over and rubbed a hand up and down John’s right arm. “Oooh, you’re right. Very nice. Keep that up.”

  The sudden silence that fell seemed louder than a sonic boom. Mike frowned at Gwen, then at John. He’d already stepped back, but the moment was no less awkward.

  “I know you guys are stationed at Nellis,” Cassie said, moving closer to John, her expression neutral, her voice pleasant and even. She smoothed over the gaffe like a pro. “But where are you all from?”

  “Scott and I grew up outside of Dallas,” Ashley said. “We went to the same high school, but we didn’t actually meet until after college.”

  “Totally by accident,” Scott added, smiling at his wife. “I was home on leave and went to a buddy’s wedding.”

  “I was one of the bridesmaids.” Ashley leaned into him. “We didn’t even know we’d gone to the same school until we talked that evening.”

  “More like the whole night.” Scott slipped an arm around her waist. “Two years later everyone came to our wedding.”

  Cassie sighed. “That is so sweet.”

  John hadn’t heard the story before, but he knew Scott was crazy about his wife. He talked to her twice a day even when they’d been in the thick of things in Kabul. Watching them look at each other he felt that weird pull in his chest again.

  “I’m from Vegas,” Gwen said, her high-pitched voice even more annoying now. “Born and raised. Everyone is always surprised. For some reason they think the Strip is all there is, that real people don’t actually live here.” She fanned her face and cleavage. “God, it’s hot. Cassie, what do you do?”

  “I’m a bartender.”

  Gwen’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Where? On the Strip?”

  “No, a small dive bar my brother owns.”

  “So you must be from here,” Gwen said, taking in Cassie’s jeans and black flip-flops.

  “Nope. But I’ve lived here longer than anyplace else, so it kind of feels like home.” Cassie stirred what remained of her drink.

  John thought about offering to get her another, but he preferred they leave. Figuring it was a safe bet she’d agree, he waited for his chance at a graceful exit. He didn’t need Mike to think they were running off because John felt guilty about what had happened. That was on Gwen, and it was between her and Mike.

  “Are you a military brat?” Gwen asked. “Is that why you moved around?”

  “No, my parents were...well, they still are...bikers.”

  “Did you say bikers?” Gwen’s gaze narrowed with curiosity first at Cassie, and then at John. “As in Hell’s Angels?”

  John tried not to show his hand but he was surprised. He wasn’t sure why.... What her parents did had nothing to do with Cassie, except, what a life for a child.

  Cassie smiled. “No. We rode with different groups over the years, but mostly for social and safety reasons.”

  “So you traveled with them even as a kid?”

  “Yep. Me and my brother each had our own sidecar.”

  * * *

  Gwen had moved closer, her pitch climbing higher and drawing attention. “What about school? You poor thing...did you even get an education?”

  John saw Mike tense at the condescension in his wife’s voice.

  Cassie didn’t appear bothered, but then she had a good poker face. “My mom homeschooled us. She was a teacher before she met my father and took up the lifestyle, and she was strict about study time. So we had a better education than most public school kids.”

  “But how do you know—?”

  “Honey, mind getting me another drink?” Mike put his empty glass in Gwen’s hand. With a pointed look, he sent her a message to back off, which she ignored.

  “Were you able to make friends?” Gwen asked, sidling up to Cassie and touching her arm as if she were her new best friend.

  “Too many, I’m afraid. In forty-two states. I’m terrible at answering emails.” Cassie smiled. “I’ll go with you to get drinks. Any takers? I’m a damn good bartender.”

  Scott accepted the offer, but only for a beer. John declined, and so did Ashley, who seemed torn between volunteering to go and staying put, out of Gwen’s reach. The woman had managed to make everyone uncomfortable. Though not Cassie. Not that she was about to put Gwen on speed dial, but Cassie had taken control, diffused the awkward situation without anyone the wiser. Except for him, but he was starting to understand her. And she was really something.

  “They don’t need another pair of hands,” he said quietly to Ashley, who looked as if she might cave in to guilt.

  She winced. “You sure?”

  Staring after Cassie, he smiled. “I’m sure.”

  * * *

  “HONEY, I’M SO GLAD you came tonight.” Gwen tilted her head toward Cassie and lowered her voice as they passed a foursome sitting at a table. “You’re going to need my help. Look, I get where you’re coming from, I do.” Letting out a weary sigh, Gwen’s gaze swept the front of Cassie’s jeans and blouse. “Believe it or not, I used to dress like you. But, honey, you aren’t going to bag a fighter pilot, let alone a man like John Devlin—” she gestured with her hand, glossy red nails slicing through the air “—looking like this.”

  Cassie almost missed her cue. She glanced down at her disreputable jeans and inexpensive blouse, then looked up into her self-appointed fairy godmother’s face. “Could you define bag?”

  “What?”

  “You said, ‘bag a fighter pilot.’ What does that mean?”

  Impatience flashed in Gwen’s eyes. “You know. Get him to marry you.”

  “That’s sweet,” Cassie said. “You’re sweet, really. But I don’t want to marry John. I just want him for sex.”

  She grabbed a beer for Scott, then walked straight toward John, so tall and lean and looking ridiculously handsome in his jeans and blue polo shirt. He was by far the hottest guy at the party...not that she was biased. What she’d liked best was that he hadn’t batted an eye over her parents being bikers or that she herself had lived on the road, even though it was clear she’d surprised him. And when she’d told his friends she was a bartender, he hadn’t tried to mitigate it by adding she was a grad student.

  “I decided not to have another drink,” she said after giving Scott his beer. She latched on to John’s arm and leaned close so the others couldn’t hear. Cassie stood on her toes, and whispered, “I hope you don’t mind. I told Gwen I just wanted you for sex.”

  John laughed and coughed at the same time.

  The other three turned to see what was going on, and Cassie j
ust smiled.

  “I’m not gonna ask how that came up.”

  “That’s smart.” She shifted her weight so that the side of her breast pressed against his arm. “So...when were you thinking of leaving?”

  He studied her face for a long, heated moment. “Your place okay?”

  She nodded, tried to look blasé, then saw the wild pulse in his neck. Despite the warm flush surging to her cheeks she shivered.

  “Hey, we’re going to be moving on. I’ll see you guys later,” John said, putting his arm around her and turning her back toward the house.

  “You leaving?” Mike asked, and Scott grinned. “Something we said?”

  “I think it was something I said.” Smiling, Cassie wiggled her fingers. “Nice meeting you.”

  * * *

  HANDS STUFFED in his pockets so he wouldn’t do something foolish like maul her in front of her neighbors, John waited while Cassie fumbled with her keys. He would’ve been more impatient if not for the distraction of the overhead porch light shimmering off the golden highlights in her hair. No ponytail tonight, just long loose shiny curls that fell past her shoulders.

  She had great skin. Soft, smooth, some freckles that seemed to blend with her light tan. He’d find them, though, each and every one, once they got inside the duplex. And her tattoos. It was crazy, but he looked forward to discovering where they were hidden...if she ever got the door unlocked.

  “Need help?”

  “I almost have it.” She shoved with her free hand. “Here we go.” She flipped on a light switch as she stepped inside.

  “Does the door always stick?”

  “Mostly in the summer.”

  “Remind me to have a look at it.”

  She turned to face him, a slow smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “You surprise me. Not many people do.”

  “I didn’t say I could fix it.” He closed the door behind him. “I just said I’d look at it.”

  Cassie threw her purse and keys at a chair. The purse landed safely, the keys thudded on the floor. “Ha. You’re a riot. You want something to drink?”

  “I’m good.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” Grinning, she pulled the hem of his shirt from his jeans and tugged him toward her.

  “So you just want me for sex, huh?”

  “I’m sorry.” She laughed. “I am. But Gwen, she’s just—well, she’s kinda nuts. Have she and Mike been married long?”

  “No.” He kissed her bare shoulder and slid a finger down her chest to the first of far too many little white buttons.

  “Right.” She briefly closed her eyes and slid her palms up his chest. “We won’t talk about them.”

  “Good.”

  “Come.” She took his hand and led him to the hall opposite the side of the kitchen.

  They passed a small bedroom on the left, a bathroom on the right. Her bedroom was at the end, the walls painted a light blue, the queen-size bed neatly made and covered by a puffy white comforter. The room wasn’t crowded like the rest of the house. A small dresser stood beside an old-fashioned sliding-door closet. No clothes were strewn around. Some were folded inside a plastic laundry basket sitting in the corner on the floor.

  On her dresser were two small green plants. In front of them a pair of goldfish swam in a bowl. It made John smile.

  She followed his gaze. “Oh, that’s Heart and Soul.” She kicked off her flip-flops, then moved one of the plants in front of the bowl. “Don’t worry, I won’t let the kids watch.”

  Shaking his head, he toed of his deck shoes. He was willing to wager she surprised him a whole lot more than he surprised her.

  Her lips parted as she watched him pull off his shirt then toss it aside.

  John caught her upper arms and held her still while he kissed the side of her neck. He skimmed his lips against her silken skin and said, “Now, you just stand there and look gorgeous while I do all the work.”

  10

  CASSIE TOUCHED HIS CHEST with the reverence it deserved. So much warm flesh, hard muscle; the man took care of himself. She drew her hand down to his belly, flat and firm with just enough muscle to keep it that way. “Do you have to work out for your job?”

  “Cassie?”

  It wasn’t easy...she had so much to look at...but she lifted her gaze. His eyes were dark and full of purpose. “What?”

  He raised his hands. “I can’t unbutton you while you’re doing that.”

  “Give me a minute.”

  “It’s just a chest,” he said. “Every guy has one.”

  She laughed, which didn’t help either her exploration of his chest or the unbuttoning of her blouse.

  John looked down at her with one raised brow.

  “After you have more blood going north, you’ll understand,” she said. Then she took over button duty, enjoying the view as John undid his belt.

  “Done.” She let her blouse fall to the floor and smiled in victory. The raw hunger in his eyes made her swallow, though, and flex her hands as she fought the urge to cover herself. Although why she’d want to do that when he approved so demonstrably, she’d never understand.

  His gaze skimmed her bare breasts, swept up to her face and surprisingly stayed there. He touched her cheek before lifting a lock of her hair. Smiling, he watched the strands sift through his fingers. His focus returned to her breasts. As he rubbed his thumb over her hard nipple she could see the struggle for control in the flex of his jaw and his flaring nostrils.

  “I knew they’d be perfect,” he murmured, and kissed her shoulder as his hands moved down to her jeans.

  Arousal flushed her entire body. The feel of his warm lips brushing soft kisses up the side of her neck made her dizzy. When he retraced the path and headed for her right breast, she clung to his waist for support, digging her fingers into his jeans, feeling her way to the snap. She unfastened it, then couldn’t maneuver the rest. “Wait, wait,” she said, breathless from his tongue and teeth doing amazing things to her peaked nipples. He wouldn’t listen so she shoved at him until he looked up at her as if she were the most horrible person on earth. “I’m having trouble—you’ll have to take them off yourself.”

  He already had her pants halfway down her thighs, and he stared at the front of her tiny red thong instead of doing as she asked.

  Hoping it would get him moving, she got down to panties in record time. He took longer, but only because he had to be careful with his zipper. He made up for it by taking off his boxers along with his jeans. She hurried around to squeeze between the bed and the wall to pull back the covers.

  As long as she lived, Cassie would never forget the sight of his aroused body. Mind-blowing didn’t describe how stunning he was in the raw. Those broad shoulders, a muscular chest that tapered to a flat, slim stomach. His thighs were an athlete’s and his erection exceptional. Her gaze swept over him from head to knee and back again. She was used to sevens or eights, and John was an eleven and three-quarters.

  With a humph from the opposite side of the bed, John took over the task of yanking off the bedding. Which was good because she was busy.

  “Do you have condoms?” she asked, the sudden thought jolting her. “Please tell me you do. Because I don’t.”

  He seemed mildly surprised, then fished two packets out of his wallet. “They’re right here,” he said, setting them on the thrift-store cherry nightstand. “In case I forget.”

  “Are you planning on losing your short-term memory?” she asked.

  His gaze touched her breasts, then ran down to her thighs, his mouth curving up. “Along with all my other higher functions.”

  Oh, God. She crawled onto the mattress, absurdly happy that she’d sprung for a top-notch bed. “Why were you surprised I don’t have condoms?”

  “Was I?”

  “Come on.”

  “I honestly don’t remember thinking anything. Short-term memory issues.” He kissed her mouth and toyed with the elastic of her panties. “Let’s get rid of this.”

>   She’d forgotten about the thong. Before she could take care of it, he moved down to kiss her belly. She tensed, waiting to see where he’d kiss next as he pulled down the red silk. His moist breath bathed the skin at the top of her thighs. Next came his lips, his teeth, the tip of his tongue...until she interrupted to help him draw the panties to her ankles. She used her toes and heel to speed the process. It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t touch him. She wanted to very badly.

  “Come here,” she said, then added, “Please,” when his slow smile told her he had no intention of hurrying.

  “What’s the rush?” He dragged the backs of his fingers up the inside of her thigh, and laughed when she clamped her legs together.

  She didn’t care if he found out she was wet; she simply didn’t want it all to end in two minutes. “The reason I don’t have condoms,” she said, lifting her shoulders off the mattress and curling up until she could almost reach him, “is because I’ve been too busy for...this...”

  “I’m honored you made time for me.”

  “You should be.” She closed her hand around his cock, and the humor left his face.

  His strained expression and low moan warned her to be careful or they’d both climax too soon. Leaning back, she stared at the thick hard flesh in her hand. She stroked him, following the upward curve with a light grip that made him pulse against her palm.

  “Look who’s impatient now,” she teased, but payback was swift as he rolled, forcing her to release him, and then hovered over her, using his knee as a wedge between her thighs.

  “What was that?” He gave her a sly grin as he stretched out, his leg pinning one of hers beneath him.

  “Get off, you brute.” Her smile undercut her words.

  “Brute? Are you kidding? I’m a sweetheart.” He didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he lifted her chin and took her mouth in a searing kiss that eased into a languid exploration.

  Surprisingly, once she’d gotten over the abrupt change, she liked the slow, tense buildup of heat, although sooner rather than later, he’d better start revving things up.