During our second slow dance, he’s quiet, yet holds me a little tighter than before. His shoulders are tense, and I want to ask what’s wrong, but don’t want it to sound like I’m prying. He was just working undercover for the DEA, which is a complicated enough situation as it is. Maybe Zoe’s a woman he loved who died? If that’s the case, it would be cruel of me to dig deeper.
Either way, I believe him. I sense that he lives by a code of honor that many men don’t even consider. More than that, deep down I really want all that to be true, and I’m willing to take the risk that it isn’t.
His hands tighten at my waist and I ease into him, a little in awe of how perfectly we fit together when we dance. I can’t help sighing and sliding my arms around his neck as I bring my cheek to rest on his shoulder.
A rumble rises through his chest, part laugh, part noise of concern, and his lips brush my ear. “You should probably put some distance between us, Doc. You deserve more than another asshole who keeps secrets from you.”
I lean back so I can see his face and give him a wry smile. “Maybe you’re not the only one with secrets. Did you ever think of that?”
His eyebrows lift as he assesses me. “No shit, you have secrets? Maybe we’ll have to do a little show and tell later. I bet mine are bigger than yours.”
I shrug. “Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. You haven’t known me that long.”
“Long enough to want to know more,” he says, his expression sobering. He holds my gaze and heat ignites in my belly. I’m pretty sure I’d tell this man all my secrets if he asked. I just hope he’d be willing to do the same.
We return to our table amid a flurry of excitement as the band announces it’s five minutes to midnight. The staff makes rounds with fresh glasses of champagne.
“Got to hit the head real quick so I don’t miss the countdown,” Mason says, giving me a light peck on the cheek before disappearing through the crowd. Wyatt excuses himself a moment later, leaving Nina and me alone to hold our table. She immediately plops down in the seat beside me, cheeks pink from booze and dancing.
“Best party ever, don’t you think? Seriously, Cal, it’s like this guy was sent from the fucking gods. He’s almost too perfect. Is that possible?”
“Are you sure you’re not just desperate?” I ask, casting an amused look her way as I keep an eye out for a waiter to wave them over with drinks for the four of us.
“Pretty sure. You know me—oversexed is my middle name.”
I snag our drinks, then focus fully on her. “Have you told him about Chris? There’s a chance they knew each other.”
“Is that stopping you?” she asks, a challenging edge to her tone, but I don’t miss the shadow that crosses her features.
“Aside from the DEA connection, Mason’s nothing like Chris, in case that wasn’t obvious. Wyatt . . . well, I get the feeling he enjoys wearing suits as much as Chris did.”
I don’t point out how alike in appearance Wyatt is to my brother, at least as far as basic features go. Chris was a tall, well-built blond man who loved keeping a clean-cut look. Wyatt is the same, although Wyatt seems keenly interested in my friend whereas Chris only ever saw Nina as an extension of me. As much as I loved my brother, he’d have broken Nina’s heart if they ever got close.
Nina looks like she wants to argue, but stops and looks past me, her face transforming with a bright smile at the two men walking through the crowd toward us. She seems to catch herself, then rolls her eyes. “Ugh, okay, fine—I admit I have a thing for the suit. Maybe that’s just my kink. Your Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome is something else, though. It’s like he’s doing a slow striptease. If he hadn’t already picked you, I’d probably angle for a three-way.”
I observe the two men striding back toward us from the edge of the room. Wyatt is still as sleek as 007 in his tuxedo, not a hair out of place. By contrast, Mason’s down to his dress shirt, white sleeves rolled up and highlighting muscular, tan forearms. His bow tie has disappeared, and his shirt collar is unbuttoned as if he’s undergoing a gradual transformation back into the rough-looking man I first met in the hospital.
My breath escapes me for a moment at what a striking figure he cuts, the shirt clinging tight to his chest. The fancy clothes do nothing to conceal his raw sex appeal. His gray eyes narrow on me and he licks his lips as his gaze slides down my body. Butterflies erupt in my belly and I feel like I’m fifteen again, gawking at cute boys at the school dance, hoping one comes to ask me to dance with him. Except I’m twice that age and the thoughts going through my head are decidedly naughtier than fifteen-year-old me could have conceived of.
“Damn, girl,” Nina murmurs beside me. “No wonder you nailed him the first chance you got.”
“Eyes on your own man, Nina. Looks like he’s more than happy with his own dance partner.” I glance at Wyatt, who only has eyes for my friend.
She sighs dreamily and nods. “I’m definitely spending the night with him. They’re staying at the Brown, so we won’t have far to go.”
Leave it to her to learn all the important details. But the thought sends a blast of clarity through me.
