by S. A. Gibbs
Tracey nudged me through the doorway. “Hello, Mrs. Evans.” Her sunny voice made me cringe as she sucked up to my landlady. “This is our friend, Sheila.”
I glanced back. Sheila smiled.
My landlady nodded in welcome, and we scooted up the stairs to my tiny apartment on the first floor.
Once inside, Tracey started stripping out of her wet clothes. “Can I put these in your dryer?”
“Sure, I’ll grab you a robe.”
She was used to making herself at home. She usually stayed over every few weeks, even when I’d been with Dan. The only difference now was instead of sleeping on the fold-out couch, she slept in bed with me. Tossing her my fluffy robe, I headed for the refrigerator. “Wine, anyone?”
Tracey corralled me in the mini-sized kitchen and pulled the bottle from my hand.
“You, birthday girl, go and shower. And you can forget about those jeans and that prudish long-sleeved top. Sheila and I have decided you need to wear something sexy.”
She slid out two glasses from the wineglass rack, handing one of them to Sheila. “And hurry up or we’ll be late.” She bopped around as if she were on the dance floor.
“We’re having dinner, not dancing.”
“Oh yes, we are,” she sang back.
I jammed my fists into my hips, glaring at her back. Sheila tapped the kitchen counter in time to Tracey’s imaginary music.
Tracey turned and snapped at me. “You booked dinner at the Tower. So we’re going dancing.” My mouth dropped open. Ooh, she was crafty.
“Sheila wanted to try the giant brownie,” I protested.
She held up her hand, and Sheila slapped her with a high five and then continued to dance.
Bitches.
Tracey twirled around, and I still hadn’t left for the shower. Putting down her glass, she pointed a painted nail at me. “Now listen here, sister. I’ve just spent the last year watching your sorry arse mope about. Dan is done. Good riddance, I say. You deserve someone better. It’s time you got back on the horse, or at least put yourself out there. Now go shower and find me that fun-loving Amberleigh I used to know.”
I stormed off to my room and slammed the door behind me. Peeling off my damp clothes, I walked naked into the adjoining bathroom and looked in the mirror. She was right. I had wasted the best part of a year feeling sorry for myself. I turned on the hot water in the shower and waited for it to steam. After adjusting it, I stepped into the blissful heat and let the water cascade over my head, soothing my stubbornness.
Tracey had put up with my depressive moods, dealt with the days I couldn’t get out of bed and the ones where I did nothing but watch soppy movies and eat ice cream straight out of the container. It was under her umbrella I’d come alive again. She wanted to go dancing. It wasn’t too much to ask.
I quickly washed my hair. I’d dry it off in the bedroom while she jumped in the shower. Sheila—well, Sheila seemed to be untouched by the drenching we’d faced. It was funny how she always seemed perfectly manicured.
I left the shower running and walked out wrapped in a towel with my hair dryer in hand. Tracey and Sheila lazed on my bed. Like a small child pleased with herself, Tracey clapped her hands and jumped up. She handed me a glass of wine. I took it and smooched her on the cheek. “I love you.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“Hurry up.” I slapped her arse. “Or we’re going to be late.”
She squealed and darted into the bathroom. Shaking my head, I sat on the edge of the bed and sipped the sweet moscato wine. “Are you changing, Sheila?”
“No. This little number will take me anywhere.” She stood. Unzipping her work pants, she pulled the thick band at the bottom of her top down. It reached the middle of her thighs, and she stepped out of her trousers. Now dressed in a slinky “little black dress,” she undid the long chain strap attached to her handbag and clipped it around her waist like a belt.
Wow! She looked great.
“I’ll pour myself another drink while you get dressed. Your outfit is hanging on the back of the door.” She left, closing it behind her.
I stared at the emerald-green top in surprise; I’d freeze my arse off in it. It was one of those tops you couldn’t wear a bra with. At least they’d given me the choice of a skirt or pants. The skimpy skirt was out. Maybe Sheila was okay with freezing her legs off, but I sure as hell wasn’t. I sighed. I knew they just wanted me to have fun and feel good again. Besides, it’d make Tracey happy if I wore the blouse—I’d just add a jacket.
WITH MY CURLS ALMOST dry, I sprayed them with wax to keep them from frizzing. It would have to do. Tracey emerged from the bathroom to find me dressed, minus the jacket.
She squealed. Grabbing my hands, she spun us around. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight, you’ll probably die.”
I couldn’t help but smile to see her so happy. I glanced at my alarm clock. Shit! It was six fifteen. “We’re late.”
“I already called the restaurant. They’re not fully booked. It’s fine. Now go put on your makeup, and I’ll call for a cab.”
THE RESTAURANT AT THE Tower seemed fairly empty, but it was hard to tell for sure. Tropical plants filled every nook and cranny. Soaring palms arched toward the stained wooden ceiling; their leaves providing a sheltered green haven among the dark rustic wood. Stone tubs filled with colorful hibiscus, and camellias sectioned off parts of the room for privacy, while tangled vines grew up the building’s interior supports and wound their way along the handrails, keeping patrons away from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Even the light shades hanging from the ceiling were made from twisted organic material. The place resembled a jungle.
We were escorted to our table for four by the window. The rosy-cheeked waitress handed us menus and waited for our order.
“We’ll start with a bottle of house wine.” Tracey closed the wine list, and the waitress left with her selection to fetch it. “So, were they there this morning?” She grinned.
I smiled.
Sheila looked quizzically at me, lowering her menu.
Tracey pointed a painted nail at me for the second time that evening. “This girl here, Sheila, has found herself a harem.”
Sheila’s eyes widened. “What?”
“She’s pulling your leg,” I said. “They’re not my harem. They’re three guys—”
“Hot guys,” Tracey interrupted.
“Okay, hot guys. Always at my café on Friday mornings.”
Sheila stared at me. “And?”
“And nothing. They’re just always there.”
“Have you spoken to them?”
The waitress arrived with the bottle of wine and three glasses. She poured us each a glass and then pulled out her pad. “Are you ladies ready to order?”
“Sure.” I lifted my menu, hiding my warm cheeks.
Once we had ordered, the waitress left.
Sheila relaxed back and sipped her wine. “Well?”
I frowned at her. “Well what?”
“Have you spoken to them?”
Tracey leaned forward and whispered, “She’s too chickenshit.”
I poked my tongue out at her. “Mr. Hot smiled at me today.” I grinned.
Sheila leaned forward in a hurry, splashing her wine onto the white tablecloth. “Wait. You have nicknames for them.”
Tracey nodded. “Uh-huh. She does.”
I flashed her a shut-up-or-else look, but she just laughed.
Sheila leaned forward. “Give.”
“No way.” I sat back, and folded my arms.
“Come on. This is the most exciting thing I’ve heard in ages.” Sheila put her glass down and clasped her hands together. “Pretty please. Don’t make me grovel.”
I sighed and wished the ground would open up and swallow me.
THE THUD OF MUSIC ERUPTED upstairs, and Tracey smiled. “Come on, ladies. It’s dancing time.”
She grabbed my hand, dragging me from my chair. I’d eaten way too much of the giant browni
e. My stomach ached.
We headed to the nightclub, the line to get in already winding halfway down the stairs. While we waited in the crawling queue, Tracey bopped to the music, ready to dance the night away.
I really didn’t feel like dancing. I just wanted to curl up and watch a movie. Come on, stop being a wet blanket, I chided myself. She’s done plenty for you when you needed a friend.
On entering the nightclub, flashing lights spun over the dance floor, illuminating a mass of gyrating bodies.
We wove through the crowd, eventually finding a place to dance. Thankfully, Sheila had her rather large handbag. She placed it on the floor, and I dropped my jacket on top of it.
Music blared from enormous speakers set next to the dance floor, and the beat thudded in my chest. I found myself moving like everyone else. All except Tracey, who exploded, waving her arms and thrusting her hips. I smiled. She loved to party.
Sheila had already found a dance partner. They moved in tandem, feeding off each other’s energy. I smiled. That’s what dancing was all about. Having fun.
I startled when a man’s arms wrapped around my waist, until Jasper’s familiar voice echoed in my ear. “Welcome, ladies.”
Jasper—Tracey’s regular hookup, no strings, just great sex. I spun around and hugged him. He placed his hands on my bottom and danced seductively. Stepping back, he waved his hand as if he’d been scorched. “Girl, you’re looking hot tonight. It’s been a long time.”
I leaned over and tapped Tracey on the shoulder, pointing to Jasper. I knew she squealed; I just couldn’t hear it over the music. She flew into Jasper’s arms, and I grabbed her—to yell in her ear. “I’m gonna’ get a drink. I’ll be at the bar.”
She nodded.
I tapped Sheila on the shoulder and made the drinking motion and pointed at her bag. She nodded, and I picked up our stuff so they could dance.
Choosing a stool at the end of the bar, I put the bag and jacket in the handy compartment beneath the counter. I rubbed my aching wrist. It was great not having to hold on to a bag while having a drink. I leaned on the bar and shouted my order to the bartender. He winked at me and soon returned with my Mai Tai. Sipping the icy cool drink, I turned around to scan the crowd. The nightclub was packed. Every now and then, I caught a glimpse of Tracey or Sheila.
Mr. Hot emerged from the crowded dance floor, and I swallowed my mouthful of drink to stop myself choking. His signature blue tie had been replaced with a navy-blue shirt; the cuffs were folded, revealing his muscular forearms. There was something super sexy about them. My heart thumped. A silver belt buckle accentuated his trim waist, and his black dress pants completed the overall look. Frowning, he ran a hand through his surfy-blond hair and glanced back into the crowd, the movement pulling his shirt tight over his broad muscular chest. He seemed uneasy. Heading directly toward me, his face lit up with a smile. I didn’t know where to look. I smiled weakly back. God, he was hot. My cheeks zinged with heat.
He stopped three feet in front of me, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying over the drone of the music.
Cocking a hand to my ear, I yelled back. “What?”
He walked up to me, leaning in close. My heart thumped faster, and a warmth flooded through my loins. He smelled good, like spice and the rain after a hot summer’s day.
“Didn’t I see you at the coffee shop this morning?”
I nodded. “Yes!”
He nodded too, offering me his hand, which I eagerly clasped. The warmth of his touch sent tingles racing through my whole body. He leaned in again. “Ryle.”
I nodded, my face so close to his. “Amberleigh.” He straightened and we shook hands. The tingling persisted, even when he let go.
His breath warmed my ear, and I found myself leaning toward him.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Even when he pulled away, I could still smell his warm, spicy aftershave. I looked at him and held up my almost-full glass. “I have a drink.”
He nodded.
I was such an idiot. I should have said yes.
He leaned back in.
Jeez, couldn’t he tell what he was doing to me. I pushed my arse back in the chair.
“Do you want to dance?”
I held up my drink again, and he laughed. Leaning forward, he flagged the barman. “I’ll have a beer.”
I wrinkled my nose. Yuck, beer breath.
“Actually, make it a scotch and soda.”
I smiled. Scotch was good. I glanced up at him, and his grin disappeared. Had I said it out loud? I didn’t think so.
I sipped my drink, and when I looked up, Tracey was giving me the thumbs-up. She grabbed Jasper and made pelvic thrusting gestures. She suddenly stopped and waved. My cheeks grew hotter. Ryle chuckled, and out the corner of my eye, I saw him wave back. Jesus! Had he seen her?
He leaned in. “A friend of yours?”
I raised my glass and nodded. “Yeah.”
He laughed again.
Sheila burst through the bodies mashed together on the dance floor. Laughing, she headed toward us. “Phew, I’m so hot. I need a drink.” She fanned her face with her hands, and Ryle leaned forward.
“What do you want?” He made a drinking motion.
“Gin fizz,” she shouted.
I stared at her, raising my eyebrows. Really? She smiled at me and kept dancing. I waved Ryle closer. “This is Sheila.” I swayed back toward her. “This is Ryle. Mr. Hot.”
Her eyes widened. She reached out and shook his hand. Ryle passed her the drink. “Thanks. You two wanna’ dance? I’ll watch our stuff.”
My eyes bugged out of their sockets, and all she did was tilt her head back and laugh.
Ryle’s warm breath touched my ear. “So, you wanna’ dance?”
What else could I do? I chugged down the rest of my drink. “Sure.”
He grabbed me by the hand and led me out among the writhing mass on the dance floor. My body had adjusted to the loud music, and the beat no longer made me feel like my heart thudded against my ribcage. Before I knew it, my body moved to the rhythm, and Ryle could actually dance. Impressive.
The song faded, and the DJ’s voice blared over the PA system. “Grab your partner and Lambada.” The Brazilian music roared to life.
I shrugged and he smiled. I had no clue about this dance. Ryle placed his hands on my hips and began moving his in time to the music. I watched him and tried to copy. He smiled, and something deep inside me fluttered to life, like a thousand butterflies taking flight. His warm, strong hands guided my hips in time to the beat, and I felt safe and carefree.
Once I’d achieved the hip movements, he held my hands and lifted them up, bringing me closer to his gyrating hips. Our hands melded together, and he pulled them down in time with the music. Two beats up, two beats down. It became easy and I grinned, enjoying the rhythmic moves of the dance.
He let go of my hands and moved by my side, still keeping up the same gyrating, hip-wiggling rhythm. He drew me in front of him, so my back was against his chest. The back of his fingers caressed my side, and I gasped as the warmth of his touch rippled up my body and along my arm until his fingers entwined through mine. I leaned back against his rock-hard chest. Cupping my right hand within his, he placed it on my waist and held me firmly. Slowly, he maneuvered me forward a few sensual paces. It was mind-blowing. I relaxed my body to his will, allowing him to steer me through the dance.
My chest heaved with the exertion and the heat building between us. Leaning forward and back, Ryle rotated us around in a circle and then back the other way. It was erotic. We melded together, our bodies seemingly in tune. I wanted to dance with him forever.
The song ended, and he pulled me into an embrace. Leaning back, he laughed. “You’re a natural.” He led me from the dance floor back to our place at the bar. Then, wrapping his arm around my waist, he ordered us another drink.
Shit. He was just too good to be true. I was hot and flustered and had never felt this good before. I too
k the drink he offered. His arm slipped from my waist, and he pulled out his phone. Covering his hand over his other ear, he answered his call. Within a minute, he shoved the phone back into his pocket. “Sorry, Amberleigh, I have to go.”
“Is something wrong?”
He nodded. “I’ve been summoned to a meeting. I’m sorry. I’ll call you.” He turned and walked off into the crowd, heading for the exit.
My loins ached. My heart grew heavy.
He didn’t have my number.
Chapter 2
Lucas
Goddamn it! What the hell did Ryle think he was doing dancing with Amberleigh? I shoved my phone back in my pocket and hoped he’d leave straight away. He’d crossed the line. A line of no return, and worse still, her father had witnessed it all.
For Christ’s sake! Throwing back the last of my whiskey, I closed my eyes and hoped the heat of the liquor would sooth my ire.
Then something occurred to me, and I almost laughed. I had been reduced to copying the dramatic outbursts of mortals.
The lock on the front door clicked, and I glanced over my shoulder to see the front door swing open. Ryle walked in. “What’s the emergency?”
I raised an eyebrow. Was he really that much of a fool? The immortal fire inside me flared, turning the rims of my irises ruby red.
He sauntered by me, flopping into the leather tub chair closest to the fire. His devil-may-care attitude did nothing to ease my anger.
Turning my back on him, I poured another drink. I needed to get control of myself. If I provoked an argument, it wouldn’t end well.
My silence baited him. The rhythmic drum of his fingers tapping the armrest only increased my need to make him wait.
“Just say it, Lucas!”
Ah-huh! I’d stirred his anger, but his pissed-off attitude did nothing to counter my mood. I faced him. “Wasn’t smiling at her this morning enough?”
He looked away, and I tapped my fingers against my tumbler. “You couldn’t just follow her to the club and do your job?”
“It wasn’t like that, Lucas.”
