FriendlySeduction

by Gillian Archer

  She pulled back to get some distance from him. She needed to think and feeling his body against hers just confused her.

  “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

  She tried not to whimper as Rob ran his thumb over her trembling lips. She couldn’t help but think if only. If only Rob wanted her like she wanted him. If only he weren’t her best friend. She’d give anything to throw caution to the wind and throw herself at him. If only she weren’t afraid of the damage it would do to their friendship when he politely turned her down.

  And that’s what he would do. There was no way a man like Rob would even look twice at her if she hadn’t been his friend since childhood. Short, chunky tomboys like her never drew the attention of guys like Rob. Or Marc.

  If only.

  She forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. “Nothing.”

  Rob didn’t look as if he believed her. She buried her head against his chest and wallowed in his scent and the amazingly comfortable feel of his arms around her. At least in this position, Rob wouldn’t be able to see the conflicting feelings on her face.

  If only.

  The song ended and Sara looked up to find they were the only couple still dancing. “Uh, I think I need a—”

  The rest of her lame attempt to get some space was cut off by the screech of the next song starting. She pulled away, glad for the excuse. No one slow-danced to metal. She gave Rob an apologetic half-smile and tried to keep from running as she made her way back to the bar.

  Chapter Two

  Rob stared at Sara’s retreating back in confusion. Just seconds ago he’d held everything he’d ever wanted in his arms. And now she was running away from him as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.

  What the fuck had made her run before he had the chance to say something? He looked around the bar as if the reason for her sudden flight was among the drunken crowd. Cursing under his breath when he spied Marc making a beeline toward him, Rob wished he could find his own hiding place.

  “Awww, your evening not going how you imagined? What’s the matter? Couldn’t close the deal?” The smug grin on his friend’s face caused a muscle below his own eye to twitch.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Rob crowded Marc. “Why couldn’t you just take it like a man? She chose me. Get over it.”

  Taking a deep breath, Rob made himself back away. He was the most by-the-book officer on the force but everyone had a breaking point. If he didn’t keep his distance, he’d be in a shitload of trouble. There would be hell to pay if his captain heard he started a bar brawl.

  A dim little voice in the back of his head reminded him that Marc was his best friend. Regardless of the fact that he was acting like a schmuck.

  Rob turned away and strode to the men’s room. He needed a couple minutes to calm down before he went to find Sara.

  Marc watched in disbelief as Rob disappeared into the john. Did Rob think he was going to play nice? Because as far as Marc was concerned, it wasn’t over. One dance together did not make them a couple. Not in his eyes anyway. Especially considering the way Sara hightailed it away after. Rob must’ve said something really stupid. The dipshit.

  Taking advantage of Rob’s rare naïveté, Marc hurried over to the bar and snuggled up behind Sara.

  “Hey, princess. Can I buy you a drink?”

  Sara stiffened at his question.

  “What is it with you two tonight?” She swiveled around on her barstool to face him. He loved the way the movement trapped her between his legs before she turned her head away to cough.

  Did she just cover up saying cock block with her cough?

  “What’s up, Marc? Where’s your girl du jour?”

  “Very funny, Sara. I’m here to see you.” He moved in a little closer. “How about another dance?”

  “Ugh. I’m not drunk and I don’t need you two shadowing my every move. I want to have some fun for a change!”

  “And you can’t have fun with me?”

  Sara shook her head and raised her drink to her lips. “Not the kind of fun I want to have,” she murmured behind the glass.

  Marc couldn’t believe his ears. What kind of fun was she looking for and why wasn’t he a candidate?

  “Oh hey, look. There’s your old flame, Bethany. Why don’t you go over and rehash the good ole days?”

  He didn’t even turn his head. Sara still hadn’t forgiven him for dating Bethany. He could admit it—he had been a vain, egotistical jerk in high school. Dating the most popular girl had seemed like a dream come true to his small, adolescent, hormone-fueled brain. It took one very memorable confrontation in the quad to remind him that Bethany Larson might have been built like a Greek goddess but she had the soul of Medusa.

  He never did tell Sara about his eavesdropping on them in the quad that day. Or that the episode was the reason he had broken up with Bethany. Maybe he should have. Sara apparently thought he was the two-timing Lothario Bethany and her clique had made him out to be.

  “About Bethany—”

  “I don’t want to talk about Bethany. Or any of those other anorexic women you date. I just want you two to leave me alone so I can have some fun with one of the guys here who thinks I’m fuckable and doesn’t relegate me to the could-only-be-a-friend column.”

  Marc stared at her in shock. She was here for a hook-up. Sweet, innocent little Sara Banks was on the hunt for a one-night stand and hadn’t come to him.

  Over his dead body.

  He had to play this carefully. If he came on too strong, Sara wouldn’t believe him. She’d probably think he was only trying to intervene like a big brother.

  “I don’t only like skinny women, Sara. Can’t stand a woman who doesn’t appreciate food. I need a girl like you. One who loves food. Who understands the sensuous experience eating can be.” Marc moved in closer to whisper in her ear, “I adore those faces you make when you have one of your suicide chocolate sundaes in front of you. I’ve been dreaming about that face. Wondering if that’s the same expression you make when you come.” He licked the lobe of her ear then pulled back to see her response.

  Sara stared at him with rounded eyes. “Is that your idea of a sick joke? The fat chick making love to ice cream? You know what, Marc? Screw you. I hope some skinny little bitch pokes your eyes out with her pointy kneecaps.” She shoved away from him and stalked away, the hem of her dress bouncing with each indignant step.

  “Wait!” Marc groaned. His shoulders slumped in defeat when she disappeared from view. That didn’t go over well. What the hell went wrong? How could she think he was making fun of her?

  He had to fix this and fast. Before Rob got out of the john or someone else moved in on his dream girl.

  Marc looked around the bar but didn’t see any sign of Rob. His shoulders stiffened when he caught a glimpse of Sara grinding on a new guy. He wasn’t sure but from behind he looked like that baby-faced punk from earlier who needed a lesson in manners. Marc watched, incensed as the little bastard’s hands wandered a little too far south. “Son of a—”

  “Jerkwad! I leave for two minutes and she’s being pawed by some punk kid? What’s the matter with you?” Rob gave him a not-so-gentle shove.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? What’s the matter with you? You really think I was going to stand lookout for you?”

  “So you’d rather her be with that—” He waved wildly at the dance floor. “Than me? This isn’t high school, Marc. Grow the fuck up.”

  Marc grabbed Rob’s arm as he turned to leave. “You’re right. This isn’t high school. So I’m not gonna sit on the sidelines just because you called dibs.”

  “Fuck, man. I can’t believe you would talk about her like that.” Rob jerked his arm out of Marc’s grasp and stomped off.

  Marc shook his head as he watched his best friend’s retreating back. Rob always did take life way too seriously. It might be a good characteristic in a cop but sometimes he was a killjoy even during playtime.

  Marc shook off the gray cloud
hovering over his head. His honey wouldn’t want to play with a grouch.

  If he could find her. He scanned the room again but didn’t see her or her newly found partner. The bar was too crowded tonight. He wove his way through the wriggling bodies and tensed as a wandering hand groped his ass. Quickening his pace, he searched for Sara’s curly mop of blonde hair.

  Nothing.

  He stopped on the opposite side of the dance floor, looking around the fringes. He nodded briefly at his brother Alan, who was busying taking an order. Alan flashed him a stiff smile before turning back to his table. Even from this distance, Marc could see the tension in his brother’s shoulders.

  Glancing at the occupants of the table, Marc didn’t think Alan’s problem was with his customers. Clint was Alan’s best friend and Clint’s wife Stella was a sweetheart. Must be something else.

  Maybe his brother was psychically picking up on his own bad mood. Of all his three brothers, Alan was the one he was closest to. Although that might have more to do with their eleven-month age difference than anything else. They were practically twins.

  Smiling at his own silliness, he resumed his search for Sara. His gaze landed on Rob leaning against the bar alone with two empty beers in front of him and a bottle of tequila. That wasn’t going to end well. He couldn’t believe Rob would even look at a tequila bottle after that weekend in Cabo.

  But he couldn’t think about Cabo. Or how long it took to repair their friendship after the trip from hell.

  He had to find Sara before that punk-ass kid did something Marc would have to make him regret later. He didn’t have time to play nursemaid to a grown man right now. Besides, Rob could take care of himself.

  Sara tried to walk across the parking lot to her car but her ankles and knees didn’t seem to be working. Good thing she had such a well-built stud to hold her up. She sneaked another peek at him from beneath her lashes. The overhead lights showed in sharp relief a layer of darkened peach fuzz covering his jaw.

  Well, crap.

  She drew back and stopped to look him over now that she was in better light. Was he even old enough to drink? Although only twenty-four herself, she kind of had a thing for older guys. Greg was a prime example of her type—sandy hair threaded with gray, laugh lines around his eyes.

  Damn it, she couldn’t think about him now. At least not like that. She should think about what a bastard he was. Or the look on his face the last time she saw him. Better yet, think about Marc with his toned swimmer’s body and his angular features. Or Rob with his muscular build but those gentle baby blues. Not a hint of peach fuzz anywhere on those two.

  “Come on, sugar. My car’s this way.”

  Sara snapped back to the present and the drunken face leering at her. How could she have thought this teenybopper was cute? Or bed worthy? She was tipsy, not wasted.

  Shaking her head, Sara backed away from him. “I don’t think so. I’m going to go back inside and see what my friends are up to.”

  “Don’t be like that, sugar. We’ll have fun, I promise.”

  “Uh, I’m actually kinda tired. How about another time?” She hunched her shoulders and turned toward the bar.

  “Fucking tease.” Peach Fuzz grabbed her arm, his blunt nails digging into her skin as he spun her back to him.

  “Let go of me!” Sara brought her knee up but missed when he swiveled to one side. Her throat burned and her head buzzed as he ground his hips into her, the zipper digging into the tender skin just above her belly.

  “No,” she gasped as she struggled with him. She finally managed to wedge her hand between their bodies. “Let me go, you son of a bitch!” Putting all her weight behind it, Sara drove the heel of her hand into his Adam’s apple.

  He dropped like a stone, flailing and wheezing like an asthmatic little girl.

  “Not so tough now, are ya?” Sara’s lips twisted into a smug grin as she turned on her heel.

  A hand clutched her arm, immobilizing her.

  “Let me go!” She struggled anew, twisting and writhing as his arms seized her from behind. “Rape! Rape!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs.

  “Holy fuck, Sara. Calm down.”

  Sara stilled when Marc’s words penetrated her panic-induced fog. She sagged against him as her knees wiggled like a Jell-O shot. “God, Marc, you scared the crap out of me.”

  “I noticed.”

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “I came to save you.”

  Sara snorted. “Oh my God.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. You want to play big, strong man and carry me back to the car?”

  “No. I think I’ll play big, strong man and kick the shit out of this piece of trash.”

  Peach Fuzz had finally struggled to his knees when Marc headed back to him.

  “Marc, stop. It’s over. Let’s go back inside.” Sara grabbed his hand and tugged him away from the trembling figure. “He’s not worth it. You don’t want Rob to arrest you, do ya?” Sara batted her lashes.

  Marc smirked. “I don’t think he’s able to do much more than stand up right now.”

  “What are you talking about? Where’s Rob? What happened?”

  “Come on, babe. I’ll show you.”

  Sara sighed in relief as he let her tug him away from the pending fight and toward the bar instead. She had to admit that his protectiveness warmed her heart, and the area south of there. Any man willing to throw down for her was a keeper in her book. Even if he only saw her as a friend.

  “So why were you in the parking lot with that clown?”

  Marc’s question stopped her in her tracks. She couldn’t meet his gaze, knowing his hazel eyes would be filled with recriminations. Or pity.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Tough. I do.”

  “It’s no big deal. We were going to go back to my place. I changed my mind. He took exception so I had to change his mind too.” She fiddled with the small bracelet on her left wrist, twisting and plucking it, waiting for the explosion she just knew was coming.

  “That was stupid.”

  Sara blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected such a droll response. Given the situation, she expected some typical big-brother posturing, anything but that simple statement. She glanced up and her breath hitched at the gentle, understanding look he gave her.

  “Come on, dipshit. Let’s grab the other dipshit and head home.” Marc threw his arm around her shoulder and led her to the entrance.

  Sara leaned into his warm body, her head nestling into his chest. “What did Rob do? He looked fine the last time I saw him.”

  “Let me guess. You were inside, grinding on the punk?”

  Sara burrowed her head into his chest and nodded, ashamed of her poor judgment. God, she had been stupid. At least she had figured it out before she was alone in her apartment with Peach Fuzz. She shuddered when she thought of what might have happened.

  “That explains a lot. Come on, let’s grab Rob before he does something he’ll regret.” Marc pushed open the bar door with his right hand while keeping Sara cuddled underneath his left.

  She enjoyed the new sensation of being so close to him. “Why would Rob care if I was dancing with what’s-his-face? I told you guys Greg and I broke up last night.”

  “I think I’ll let him explain that one to you.”

  Chapter Three

  Sara sat in the middle of the bench seat of Marc’s pickup, still stunned by Rob’s behavior. Sure, she’d seen him drunk before. Buzzed anyway. But she’d never seen him falling-down, couldn’t-walk-on-his-own-two-feet drunk.

  Rob always had such control over himself. He could relax and have a good time with them but he never, ever let completely go. His rigid control was one reason he made such a great cop. He was so trustworthy. But even on their wildest night out, he always held that little part of himself back.

  Until tonight.

  “So what happened with Prince Charming?”

  Sara flinched at the mu
mbled question and the puff of beer odor that came with it. Crap. She really didn’t want to talk about the parking lot incident again.

  “How about we talk about something else, Rob? Did you see the Diamondbacks game last week?”

  Sara sighed in relief at Marc’s distraction.

  “I don’t want to talk about the fucking Demonbacks,” Rob slurred. “I wanna know why Sara broke up with Mr. Ivy League!”

  Although she was glad they weren’t going to rehash the parking-lot incident, Sara really didn’t want to talk about Greg. “You know. It was just one of those things.”

  “Did you catch the bastard cheating on you? I knew he wasn’t good enough for ya. Didn’t I tell you, Marc? I knew he was a playboy. He was boinking one of his students, wasn’t he?”

  “He wasn’t boinking one of his students. Drop it, okay?”

  “He found out that the senior center was the best meat market in town, right? Wanted to date someone born in the same decade?”

  “No. Leave it alone, Rob,” Sara snapped and crossed her arms, seriously not amused. This was definitely one thing she wouldn’t miss. Rob and Marc had always disliked Greg and took special pleasure in rubbing the slight age difference in her face.

  “Did he finally discover he was gay? I told you, Marc. All the signs were clearly there. The earring in his left ear, the thing he did with his hands when he ta—”

  “We broke up because he found out I’m a virgin!” Sara wailed, staring straight ahead.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears as her face heated. Why the hell did she say it? She definitely didn’t want them to know that. Just thinking about all the shit they gave her for her “old man fetish” made her shiver in suspense, waiting for the hailstorm of teasing that would come now.

  The silence was deafening as she waited.

  And waited.

  Finally unable to take the suspense, she peeked at Rob from the corner of her eye.

  He stared back at her in mute shock.

  She closed her eyes as a new wave of mortification swept over her. Fuck. Why? Why now? Why me?