"Well, it's kind of a girls' thing, but I'm sure it will be okay. You know where Mugs is?"
"Yep. On my way. Be there in half an hour."
"See you later."
Slade clicked off, turned toward the Thruway, and headed to Verily. The hell with it. There was no way he was letting Kate distract herself with some other man. Not while he was suffering with torturous sexual dreams and a boner that wouldn't go away. It was time he reminded her of their attraction.
If another man touched her . . .
Slade cut off the thought and punched on the gas.
KATE SIPPED HER CHOCOLATE martini and relaxed into the feminine chatter that was as soothing as a spa massage. From harmless celebrity gossip to the endlessly fascinating topic of men, the subjects whirled in a dizzying array and made her happy to be a woman.
Mugs was overflowing, but they held the prime table at the edge of the dance floor looking out. Pink belted out her moody lyrics, and people swung their hips to the beat. The atmosphere was perfect for a variety of needs, from dancing and pool and darts to large tables to congregate at. Kate ducked her head and took one last glance.
Yes, his date was definitely over. Unless he had continued it at home. Of course, that was against the rules. She'd preached over and over the mantra he must follow: no sex until he wanted to actually date the woman. The idea that in a few minutes they'd been ripping at each other's clothes humiliated her, but she swore to move past it. Just a mishap. One mistake. Would never happen again.
"What about that guy?"
She directed her attention to Kennedy's subtle head-shake toward an attractive man staring at their table. When Kate looked up, the man raised his glass and smiled. She automatically returned the greeting before their gaze broke.
"Oh, yeah, he's the one," Kennedy drawled. "Why don't you go over?"
"Why don't you?" she teased back.
"Because I'm taking the night off from men. But you, my dear, need a night off from just women."
She made a face. "I love you, Ken, and lust after your shoes, but, don't want to sleep with you."
Jane giggled and hiccupped. Obviously, she rarely drank, so her two cosmopolitans gave her a rosy, happy glow. Kate made a note to make sure she got home safe.
"Cute. Right now, I'd sleep with you anyway. You look hot, Kate."
Kate grinned. She kind of did look hot. It had been a long time since she had slipped into her usual black but kicked it up a notch. The skirt was ultrashort and chic, with cutout flaps that sneaked glimpses of her bare legs. The sequined tank top emphasized her cleavage and shimmered under the lights. But the shoes were deadly. Four inches of black strappy leather that climbed up her ankles gladiator style. They were fuck-me pumps meet badass boots, and worth every penny.
Kennedy leaned in. "Girlfriend, don't waste the outfit on us. Go and talk to the guy. I'm begging you."
Kate glanced over. The guy was definitely staking her out, but he didn't have the lust-filled scary face that usually freaked her out. More like a deep appreciation for her appearance. After all, that's exactly why she wore the outfit, for attention, not to fade into the woodwork.
The image of Slade and Hannah pressed tight together, kissing hungrily, blurred her vision. Slade dragging her into his open door, ripping at her clothes. Hannah moaning as his talented tongue danced over her skin.
Kate got to her feet, picked up her drink, and faced her friends. "I'm going in."
The low whoop gave her confidence. She eased over to the stranger, ignoring her nerves, and went for the honest approach.
"Hi. I'm Kate."
The guy smiled back. "I'm Bruce. Nice to meet you, Kate. Girls' night out?"
"Yeah, blowing off a little steam from the week. Do you live around here?"
"I'm actually in Nyack, but a few friends of mine love coming to Mugs so I figured I'd check it out. I'm meeting them later. But right now, I'm thanking God they're late."
She laughed and eased into the give-and-take of the initial mating conversation. His buzz-cut hair emphasized a strong face, and meaty arms under his button-down shirt and jeans. Maybe military. When she brushed against his arm from the bump of another patron, there was a distinct lack of any tingle. Still, she was so over the touch thing. Tired of judging herself and every man she laid her hands on. For tonight, she wanted to be silly and girly and let go. With Bruce.
The sexy R&B strains of "Blurred Lines" blasted from the speakers. "Would you like to dance?" he asked.
She tilted her head in surprise. Rarely did she meet men who were comfortable on the dance floor after the first meeting. "I'd love to."
He placed their drinks on the bar, took her hand, and led her to the floor. His body was rock solid, but she topped him in height with her crazy heels. Still, he didn't seem to mind, not afraid to hold her close but still retain a modicum of modesty. Kate relaxed into the mating call of the dance, her arms on his shoulders, content for a while not to engage in conversation but to let their bodies mingle and move.
A woodsy fragrance drifted to her nostrils. Kate sighed, letting go of the tension, content to enjoy the physical touch of a man without any demands. Maybe this is what she really needed. A man who could help her forget, maybe give her physical pleasure, maybe more. A crazy touch meant nothing and had only gotten her into trouble, giving away her mates to other women and leaving her alone.
"Hi." The familiar voice jerked her head around. She stared at Slade, who danced right beside them holding Jane. "How's it going?"
She blinked. His inane words buzzed her brain like a fog. "What are you doing here? You have a date."
He grinned and dazzled her with those perfect teeth. "It's over."
Bruce turned her slightly, probably dying to get away from the chatty guy, but she leaned her head to the side. "How did it go?"
"Amazing. Wait till I tell you about the dinner."
Hope crashed. Ice slithered down her spine, and she fought off her initial reaction like the survivor she was. Good, he was finally going to move on. With Hannah. Not her.
Awesome.
"I'm so glad," she forced out.
Jane gave a sigh and shook her head. "Slade, let poor Kate enjoy her dance. Give her some privacy."
"Oops, sorry. I'll catch up with you at the bar."
She nodded, forced a smile at Bruce, and tried to enjoy his embrace. Unfortunately, she kept sneaking glances at Slade and Jane, wondering about the details of his date. Did he fool around with her? Kiss her? Make another date for tomorrow? That would be too soon, and she'd advise against such a move immediately.
"That guy a friend of yours?" Bruce asked.
Focus, Kate, focus. "Just a client. Sorry I was distracted."
"It's okay. I'm willing to be one of your distractions."
She laughed at the half-lame line but gave him credit for effort. His hands tightened around her waist and she leaned in, determined to relax. They moved well together, but the song ended and turned into a pounding club rhythm with JLo and Pitbull's "On the Floor." Kate waited for him to pull her off, not used to any men she ever met actually dancing, but Bruce tossed her a grin and threw himself into the dance.
Enjoying his enthusiasm, she moved her hips to the grindy tempo and let herself go. Bruce was going up a few notches--any man with solid dance moves deserved credit.
Suddenly, her rear was bumped. A hand closed around her upper arm and burned her skin.
Kate jumped back in a twist and faced Slade. "Sorry. Don't you love this song?" he shouted. In sheer astonishment, she watched him expertly mimic some major hip-hop moves, his jeans emphasizing the tight curve of his ass, his designer white shirt catching the light and flinging it against her gaze like an explosion of fireworks. Jane matched his moves with no self-consciousness, free for a little while with the music and darkness and crowded floor.
She raised her voice over the music. "I didn't know you danced."
"Most women love dancing. Mom taught us both when we were you
ng. Counseled me a man needs to know how to move if I have any chance of catching a woman."
Kate laughed. "Smart woman."
"Umm, Kate? How about I buy you a drink?"
She looked up with guilt. Bruce shot Slade a dirty look, obviously not happy about the shouted conversations over the dance floor. "Sure." She waved at Slade and Jane, and stepped off the floor to follow Bruce.
Where she belonged.
He guided her back into a cozy corner and tried to get the bartender's attention. "Your client seems determined to talk to you tonight," he said. "What kind of business are you in?"
"I'm a matchmaker."
Bruce lifted a brow. "Like an escort service?"
"No, more like eHarmony but not online."
He lifted his hand, but the bartender ignored him. "You go out on dates with a variety of men?"
Irritation hit. She shifted her feet. "No, I'm the owner."
"Ambitious little thing, aren't you?"
His teasing question seemed way too chauvinistic, but she decided to move on. "Yes, I guess I am. What do you do?"
"Air Force. I was in Iraq."
Most military didn't volunteer their service so quickly, but she reserved judgment. "Was it very difficult?"
"Yep. I'm ready to get back out and kick some more ass. Better concentrating on the enemy than my cheating ex-girlfriend who dumped me while I was away."
Hope plummeted. She looked at his angry face, now not so teasing and instead full of a bit of resentment and a whole lot of mess. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Your service to our country humbles me."
"It should. Maybe you'll be more respectful than the last woman. Where the hell is that bartender?"