Vested Interest Page 6

  “Order some drinks for us,” I tell Trigg. I help Emma off with her jacket and hand it to him. “You want Pinot Noir, or something different tonight?”

  Emma’s teeth chatter a bit. “Damn, it was cold out there. Maybe something to warm me up. What whiskey was Jax drinking at the Gala? It smelled nice.”

  “He drinks Four Roses Single Barrel,” he tells her. “I’ll get you a glass.”

  “Perfect, thanks,” Emma says, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms.

  Trigg turns to me. “Beer?”

  “Yeah, an amber ale if they have one on tap,” I say. Watching Emma try to warm herself up, I want to take over the job right away. “Ready to hit the dance floor? It’ll get you warmed up faster than that whiskey.”

  She looks at me, and this time, her eyes stay on mine. “Okay.”

  I take her hands. “Holy shit, your fingers are freezing.” I backpedal with her toward the dancing crowd, rubbing her hands between mine. “We’ll get that blood pumping in no time.”

  Emma swallows, and that look she’s giving me has a hint of vulnerability and worry. “This is… a little awkward but, uh… we actually met last year.”

  I slow my walk. “I remember.”

  She tucks a wisp of hair behind her ear and gives me a shy look. “Do you? I didn’t know if you remembered me.”

  “Are you kidding me? That was the best half hour I’ve ever spent in a coat room.”

  She lets out a small laugh and covers her face with a hand for a minute, shaking her head, her cheeks flushed with color.

  I check over her shoulder at the guys, who are ushering Callie and Cora into a circular booth with all our drinks. I lean closer to her. “I haven’t told the guys about our little rendezvous,” I confess.

  She raises her eyebrows, but the relief on her face is evident. “Oh?”

  “I didn’t know who you were then.” I rub my chin nervously, because all I can think about is how I never wanted to stop kissing her and how we were interrupted far too soon — and how I really want to finish what we started. “Well, I’d heard about this genius chick named Emma Collins, of course, but I’d never seen a photo.”

  “Same here,” she admits. “I knew who you were, you know, as part of Pentabyte, but I didn’t know what you looked like.”

  I can’t help smiling. “Liked what you saw, didn’t you?”

  “Um, maybe,” she says with a flirty, lopsided grin, darting her eyes away as the pink on her cheeks deepens. “But that’s part of the problem. I’m trying to be professional, here.” Her eyes return to mine, more serious, searching my face. “But that little rendezvous, as you say...”

  She drifts off, looking for the words, and I’m hanging on, dying to know what her thoughts are about our all-too-brief time together. Does she regret it? Is she embarrassed? “Yes?”

  Emma licks her lips and looks up at me, this sexy shyness in her eyes. “It was nice.”

  I laugh, from relief but also amusement at her expression. “Look, I’m just gonna say it, okay? It was fucking hot.”

  The color of her cheeks turns a deeper shade. “It was.”

  We’re lost in the center of the dancing mass now, cut off from the rest of the guys. I cup the side of her face in one palm. “I’m not gonna lie, I’d love a repeat. Everything about you is spot on, know what I mean? Your body—” her eyes dart away again, but she’s fighting a huge smile, “—your mind, your sense of humor. But. I can be professional. Mostly.”

  She stops fighting the smile and breaks out into a cute laugh. “Mostly?”

  I back away one step, starting to feel the beat. I use my biceps to squeeze my pecs like a full set of breasts and proceed to shimmy and shake for her. “Still like what you see?”

  Her cute little laugh turns into a full bellied one. “Don’t tell me that’s how you actually dance.”

  “What? This is true talent right here.” I lift my hands above my head, turning my wrists and gyrating my hips like a belly dancer. “I travelled the world to learn these moves.”

  “You should have stayed home.” She’s still laughing, but she’s moving to the music now, loosening up.

  I take the hem of my shirt between forefinger and thumb. I begin to lift my shirt, then lower my center of gravity and do a pretty good imitation of what Aretha Franklin would look like if giving a strip tease. The crowd begins to look our way, whether from my intentionally ridiculous dancing or the thick six pack I’m now showing, I’m not sure.

  “You do know almost everyone’s looking?” Bless her heart, she’s worried about me making a fool of myself.

  But I don’t care about what anyone else thinks of my ridiculous gyrations as long as it keeps her smiling. “Almost everyone? Damn, I’m falling short. I need to step this up a notch.”

  I clap my hands and jump into a wide stance, going for an MC Hammer move as I pump both fists the air on either side of my head.

  “Yeah,” she says. “That got their attention. Everyone’s attention.”

  She shakes her head at me, but she’s dancing now too, not caring what the crowd thinks of my show or her own moves. I’m moving to the music, carefree and not giving a shit. Not that I can’t actually dance, but it’s a rare woman who can be completely unembarrassed when I let loose on the dance floor with my show-stopping moves.

  “You know what just might earn you a solo spotlight?” she asks. “A little booty-shaking, maybe some twerking. Betcha can’t pull that off.”

  Oh, now we’re talking. I give her a wide grin. “Stand back, because you’re about to see something real special.”

  9

  Emma

  My sides are actually aching. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard my belly hurt. Gunner is strutting beside me like a gamecock, thoroughly enjoying the dubious attention of the crowd as we make our way to the table where the guys are sitting with Callie and Cora.

  “Man,” Jude says to Gunner when we draw close. “You always know how to make a scene.”

  “I’m irresistible to look at, I know,” Gunner quips.

  Jude slips out of the booth and stands. “Shall we?” he says, offering Callie his hand to assist her out as well. “Now that it’s safe out there without Gunner doing his thing, the rest of us can hit the dancefloor. You coming back out, Emma?”

  During the extended cab ride over and while standing outside the club, I was a little chilled, but after my time joking around with Gunner, I’ve worked up a bit of a sweat. “I think I’m going to take a break. That was... invigorating.”

  “And who says I’m done?” Gunner, on the other hand, is raring to go.

  Daniel shuffles out of the booth next, Cora on his arm. “If you’re going out there again, you’ll have to keep the flailing to a minimum. We don’t want to bring the girls back with black eyes.”

  “Dude,” Gunner replies. “I’m offended. Fine. Switching to Sexy Hips Man.”

  The big man intertwines his fingers behind his head and rolls his body while rotating his hips in an incredibly suggestive and yet completely graceful rhythm, as if he was in the cast of Magic Mike. It brings me back to a year ago and the way he knew exactly how to grind against me in the corner of that coat room, how to do so much even with every stitch of clothing still on, his hard-on as impressive as the rest of him. It’s obvious his ridiculous act on the dancefloor was just that — an act, all for my benefit. The man can move.

  My eyes glaze over, and for a moment, I envision my fingers digging into his thick shoulders, his strong thighs spreading mine, his powerful hips rolling, the muscles in his ass tightening as he thrusts. What if people hadn’t walked into the coat room just as things were really heating up? As Gunner shows off his moves, I’m getting a visual of how enjoyable that could have been…

  “Emma?” Trigg asks.

  “Huh?”

  He’s holding out a glass of amber liquid and ice. “The whiskey you wanted.”

  “Oh, thank you.” I smell the rich liquor before taki
ng a sip, and the burn goes straight to my chest. I lift a fist to my lips, coughing.

  “Too much?” Trigg asks.

  “Well, Gunner did a pretty good job warming me up—”

  “Oh, yeaaah,” Gunner says it all suave and proud, more of a damn right, I did.

  Trigg thwaps him on the back of the head for the second time this evening. “Don’t be a dick.”

  Daniel follows by giving Gunner a jovial push back to the dancefloor, Cora and he following. “Come on, you need to burn off some more of that testosterone.”

  I watch, intrigued, as Cora remains wrapped around Daniel’s arm while Gunner takes her other hand, the two men guiding her to dance in unison. It only arouses me further, and that little vision of Gunner pressed against me gets an addition — Daniel, coming in from behind, kissing my shoulder, massaging my breast. Me, moaning, writhing...

  “Emma?” Trigg touches my arm, and I startle.

  “Sorry, what?” Tearing my eyes away from the dancefloor, I turn to look at Trigg, but the images in my mind are overlaying everything.

  “I asked if you’d like me to go get you a different drink. Jax can finish your whiskey.” Trigg motions to my glass, which I’m holding awkwardly as if I’m afraid to get it too close to me.

  I snap myself out of it. “Oh. Yes. Please. Maybe a Cosmopolitan?”

  He lights up with that rich smile of his. “Interesting switch. That’s just about as one-eighty as you can get from a whiskey. Here you go, Jax.”

  Jax is the only one still seated, sitting square in the center of the circular booth. He leans across the table to accept my whiskey and looks right into my eyes as he puts his lips to the glass and takes a sip, a devilish twinkle in his eye as his mouth touches where mine just was. Holy hell. Are those fuck-me eyes? I think they are. Or I’m just really, really… overheated. I squirm a bit and pull at my bottom lip with my teeth, trying to tell myself that watching Jax down my whiskey while never taking his eyes from mine isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve seen in months.

  My eyes go out of focus again, and there he is. Gunner’s strong arms holding my hips tight, Daniel thrusting into me from behind, Jax leaning in to kiss me long and slow — then turning his head to kiss Gunner, too…

  “Emma?”

  Trigg touches my arm again, and I nearly jump out of my skin this time. He looks at me with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Sorry — I think I just need to sit down.” My imagination is playing out all sorts of suggestive scenarios, and I can’t get it to stop. “It’s kind of hot in here, don’t you think?”

  “It is. I’ll go get your drink.”

  “Thank you.” Despite Gunner’s promptings, I’m pretty sure a tabletop strip tease wouldn’t be my best idea of the night. Given how wired up I am already, I better go slow on the alcohol, or Gunner might get his wish — and then some.

  I slide into the booth, scooting around toward Jax but keeping a respectful distance. He smooths his index finger around the lip of the whiskey. With the dance music and all the conversations taking place around us, Jax has to lift his voice, and it only serves to deepen his voice to something tantalizingly sultry. “Thanks for the drink. I didn’t know you were into Four Roses.”

  I look for something to do with my hands and decide to unravel a silverware set and twist at the cloth napkin. “I guess I’m not. It was on your breath at the Gala; it smelled nice and—”

  I cut myself off when I catch the smile spreading over his lips. “Did it?”

  Oh yeah, it’s definitely hot in here.

  “I just meant it smelled spicy and sweet, like something I might enjoy.” Just keep digging the hole, Emma. Is your shovel big enough yet? “The whiskey, I mean.” I give up trying to twist myself out of that blunder and go for a change of subject. “Wouldn’t you rather be dancing?”

  Jax lets his eyes linger over me for a long moment before turning his gaze to the dancefloor. A different kind of smile comes over him as he watches his three friends dancing with Callie and Cora — one that’s happy, blissful even, as his eyes follow them. “Nah. Dancing isn’t really my thing. Anyway, I’m happy to just hang back in a place like this.”

  “A place like this?”

  “Too many people. I like more intimate settings. Just a small group of close friends.”

  “Oh, I hope you didn’t come out tonight just to be courteous.”

  Jax returns his attention to me. “Not at all. I need to get out more. And so does my brother, for that matter,” he says, nodding at the dancefloor where Jude is showing off a few tight moves of his own. “He can get too nose-to-the-grindstone, too focused on the business sometimes. So, stuff like this is good for both of us.”

  He breaks to take another sip of whiskey. “Besides…” he says, giving me an easy grin as he sets the glass down.

  Jax doesn’t continue, so I prompt, “Besides what?”

  “They’re missing out.”

  I feel a bit dense, because I’m genuinely not tracking with him. “Missing out?”

  “On being here with you.”

  Oh. I shake my head to hide my awkward jumble of feelings. Between my runaway imagination, Jax’s sexy, intense stare, and my inability to connect the dots smoothly, I’m really off my game.

  I manage to give him a silly grin. “Yes, because I’m such a stellar conversationalist.”

  Jax’s eyes are serious, and so is his tone. “Hey, I like talking with you. But you don’t have to say anything. It’s just nice to sit here with you.”

  I twist at the napkin, not knowing how to respond and grateful when Jax diverts his smoldering attention up and away from me. I follow his eyes to see Trigg approaching with my bright red Cosmopolitan.

  He gives me a little bow. “For you, madam.”

  “Thank you, that was very kind.” I scoot a little closer to Jax in order to give Trigg ample room to sit in the booth. He lays his left hand on the table, and I notice for the first time a large ring he wears on his pinkie finger. It looks like a class ring, but the embossing is military.

  “What is this?” I reach my hand out and touch the ring, my skin coming into contact with his. Nerve endings from my fingertip all the way into my spine react with fire, and I pull my hand away in a heartbeat.

  Trigg must see my reaction, because he glances up quickly. As he does, I realize I’m biting at my lip again. I seriously need to stop that. I reach for my Cosmo, giving my mouth something other to do than get me in trouble.

  Trigg stretches his hand out on the linen tablecloth. “That was a gift. From Jude and Gunner.” He points to the symbol at the front of the ring, an eagle with its wings spread, atop a globe with a golden anchor through it and something in Latin. “This is the Marine Corps emblem.” He turns his hand to display the left side of the ring, a skull with two rifles. “It’s unofficial, but this signifies military snipers, and this—”

  He turns his hand the other way to display the only symbol I recognize. “The Purple Heart. You were wounded in action?”

  Trigg turns more somber than I’d thought possible since he was so laid-back and happy at the Gala and during our meeting Monday. “Yeah. It was a pretty hairy mission. I was usually tucked away in a safe sniper’s nest, supporting the team from afar, but my position was pinpointed. When that happens, snipers are supposed to vacate — otherwise, you’re a sitting duck. But I couldn’t leave Jude and Gunner and the rest of the team down there without cover. Things were too rough. They were surrounded and in need of a path out. I couldn’t leave them even for a minute, so I just held my position and did what I could to pick off enough to give them a way out.”

  “Wow. That was brave of you.”

  With one swift motion, Trigg tips his head back and downs his drink. “We were all brave back then. Jude and Gunner were depending on me. We’re a team, you know? Still are. Sometimes, that means standing your ground.”

  I place my hand on his, empathy replacing my jittering nerves. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean
to bring up a heavy subject.”

  At my touch, a smile perks at the corner of his lips, and part of his serious demeanor slips away. “I wouldn’t wear the ring if I didn’t want a pretty woman to ask me about it.”

  Trigg spreads his hand, and my fingers fall between his. He applies light pressure, a gentle squeeze of solidarity, and the electricity returns, firing my nerves. The small hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. My breath catches.

  The sensation is so warm and pleasant, I almost squeeze back, then I think of Cora. Isn’t she his date? Doubt flashes through my mind. Is this a gesture of comradery, or is he seriously hitting on me when his girlfriend is out there, distracted by dancing with his friends?

  Given my runaway libido tonight, I don’t trust that I’m reading the signals correctly, but I’m damn sure not about to flirt with someone else’s man.

  “Excuse me,” I say, pulling my hand away. “I need to use the ladies room.”

  I see the concern on his face as Trigg slides across the seat to let me out, but I don’t let it deter me. I get up without looking back and head toward the restrooms to gather myself.

  10

  Emma

  The loud music and close press of bodies from the crowded venue becomes a bit suffocating by the time I make my way to the back wall with the neon light announcing the ladies room. The bright lights and cool air of the bathroom come as a relief. Three of the stalls are occupied, and there are several women milling about in front of the wide mirror, but it’s quieter, and I feel like I can breathe again.

  I find an empty sink and get the water running, testing the temperature. I lean forward to check my makeup and wind up just staring at myself, wondering what on earth I’m doing.

  Dancing with Gunner, flirting with Jax, getting tingles from Trigg. Getting carried away imagining the most far-fetched, racy scenarios.

  It’s like I’m back in college, plunked down in the middle of some rich dude’s frat party, elbow deep in testosterone. Only this time, the guys aren’t ignoring geeky, skinny Emma who’s wistfully soaking up everything from the corner of the room, wishing I could work up the courage to let loose and have a good time, maybe talk to some of the cute guys.