Her lips quirked a little before she shook her head. “No, Clint. You’re wrong. I’m not that sexy in this dress. Especially since it highlights my—”
“You say anything derogatory about your luscious curves, I’m gonna spank you.”
She rolled her eyes. I wanted to chastise her for that, but I kissed her instead. Since we were at a traffic light, I had to keep it short, but I loved kissing her now more than ever.
RAEGAN SLID HER ARM around my waist after I put my arm around her shoulders when we left the Kres Chophouse. Then she leaned into me as we walked, just like she used to do, and I smiled.
“So, the PI business must pay well. You’re living not far from Mom’s neighborhood and you can take a girl to a fancy chop house.”
I stopped walking and looked down at her until her eyes met mine. “I bought a rare foreclosure and spent five years fixing it up. The dinner didn’t cost as much as you think it did because I had a gift card.”
She pulled her head back from me. “Really? You fixed up a foreclosure?”
I dipped my chin in a slight nod. “Really. Had my eye on that house for a long damn time, and it pissed me off when it started falling to shit during the recession. I knew it’d be up on the market at some point, I just prayed the owners wouldn’t put any effort into it so I could get it for a steal.”
I guided us toward the parking garage, signaling the conversation was done.
We were on her side of SUV when she said, “Thanks for dinner, Clint. It was fantastic.”
I shifted so her back was to the door. With my hands framing her face, I leaned toward her. “You’re more than welcome, mi reina.”
Her face softened at my words. I kissed her slow and sweet, only pulling away when her hands started moving on my chest with more purpose. Her eyes held a hint of annoyance at the kiss ending, but otherwise she looked dazed yet aroused.
“Time to salsa, Rae.”
Her lips pulled to the side. “We could skip the dancing, honey.”
I grinned. “Get in the truck, babe.”
Ten minutes later, I parked in a small lot while Raegan looked bewildered.
“Where’s the club, Clint? There isn’t even a building that looks like a club.”
I squeezed her bicep.
“There is.” I nodded to the warehouse in front of us.
“It’s a warehouse.”
“It’s been converted. And the cover is steep, but the music is on fire.”
Chapter 14
Nuances of Difference
Raegan
CLINT KNEW WHAT HE was talking about because the music inside the club turned the place into an inferno. His concerns about other men being interested in me here were unfounded, though. From the moment we walked in, I knew this was not a place where men went on the prowl. It seemed all the men had women with them, and very few couples were sitting at the bar, seeing as the dance floor was packed.
My nerves came alive as I watched the couples. I kept in relatively decent shape, but I hadn’t shimmied like that in years.
At my ear, Clint asked, “What are you drinking? They have a two-drink minimum, but you can opt for soda if you want.”
Nothing killed my anxiety like tequila; that certainly hadn’t changed. “Margarita, rocks. No salt.”
He smirked. “You’re not on a low-sodium diet, Raegan. Your mom is.”
I smiled, but didn’t quite mean it. “I know that. I’m just not feeling the salt tonight.”
Clint put in our order with a passing waitress before he guided me to a small two-seater high-top table. I rested a hip on the barstool and watched the couples. Some were dancing either the samba or a mambo, I could never tell exactly because both dances were so fast paced. Other couples stuck to the cha-cha, but most were dancing the salsa. I focused on two of the better couples so I might remember more than just the basic steps.
By the time I finished my drink, Clint stood. “If you think I’m gonna let you have your second drink, think again. Can see you’re nervous as hell, but you’re not going to wimp out on me because you’ve had too much tequila.”
I slid off my stool as Clint made his way in front of me.
He stooped so his lips were next to my ear. “It’s just like riding a bike, mamita. And other things I know you’re still damn good at, so let’s go.”
On the dance floor, Clint’s ability to swivel his hips and lead me around the other couples could not be missed. I could watch him move his hips all day, it was just that damn sexy, but to occasionally feel that swivel as our bodies came together was divine.
My nerves fell to the wayside. When he spun me out and yanked me back, only to follow it up with an under-arm twirl, I understood his insistence I only have one margarita. Salsa dancing with him meant I spent half my time turning in circles. Yes, me plus two drinks plus fast-paced spinning would equal certain disaster.
After dancing to four songs straight, Clint guided us back to the bar area. Our waitress was on it, because no sooner had I planted my tush on the stool than she set a glass in front of me.
I smiled at her and was going to say thank you, but she had her head ducked, and scurried away from our table.
Clint had his hand wrapped around his long-neck beer, but he watched the waitress retreat. Then he looked around the club. Whether it was his behavior or the server’s, I wasn’t sure, but a strange feeling skittered down my back.
I picked up the drink, but Clint’s other hand covered mine. “No,” he said, though it was hard to hear him over the music.
While
