Tangled (Playing With Fire)

Trevor was friends with Austin, though. Austin was the lighting director at the theatre and one of her closest friends. Another man she’d had a hopeless crush on years ago when they first met.

Yet another one of her personal faults. She always developed crushes on men she could never have. She’d wanted Austin so bad all those years ago. Gorgeous, charismatic and kind, he’d sucked her right in, made her want more. But she had known back then he was gay, and he’d had a boyfriend, Brad. The relationship had been tumultuous, had ultimately ended and she’d been there for him. Ready to console, ready to take Brad’s place.

It had never happened. She’d eventually gotten over it and now had a great friend in Austin she could count on. A great friend that had recently found his true love with another woman.

Oh well. Her attention was focused on Drake. She couldn’t let Austin’s change of preference bother her. But the gay rumors about Drake were quietly swirling around, growing and growing. She couldn’t deny the fact that he did tend to ignore her.

Maybe it’s because he likes men, you nimrod. You have the wrong parts, and he’s not interested.

She ignored her grumpy inner voice, flashing a fake smile in Trevor’s direction. She needed to get out of here. Go home and sulk. She’d had enough for one evening.

“Well, you’d better go find him then, huh? You two have fun and tell Drake I said hi. I need to go. Night.”

“Wait a minute.” The man was lightning fast; she’d give him that. He had his hand wrapped around her arm, stopping her once more. She glanced up at him over her shoulder, surprised to find him standing so close.

Close enough to smell him. And he smelled wonderful. Close enough to feel the heat of his body emanating from him, reaching for her. Close enough she saw the flecks of color in his stormy eyes, a mix of blue and gray and green.

Survival instinct told her to run. Jerk out of his hold and run as if the devil was chasing her. Fast and furious and as far away as possible. This man reeked of trouble. She’d observed him enough to know he was confident to the point of irritation and a known player. Women threw themselves at him on a daily basis. He was a macho conqueror of an endless stream of females.

She would be another one on his already long list if she succumbed to his charms.

Her feet wobbled and she winced, the shoes pinching her toes. He saw the wince, tugging her even closer and—oh goodness—she was close enough to see the chest hair peeking from the open collar of his shirt.

Her survival instinct fled in a rush. The temptation to stay, to touch, to taste swamped her, just like that.

Just like that. And that proved she was weak.

“Are you all right?” His voice lowered, velvety smooth and soft, enveloping her into a warm, intimate cocoon.

She shook her head, shifted on her feet. Concentrate on the pain not on the sexy man. “My shoes. They hurt.”

He glanced at her feet, the black patent leather stiletto shoes, his gaze running up her fishnet-stocking covered legs. “They’re sexy.”

“They’re painful.” She thrilled at his choice of words. Did he think her sexy? Or just the shoes?

No, no, no. Not the way to think. She hated him. No not him, she hated men like him. That’s what she needed to focus on. His type, they sucked. They were ruthless, heartless and charming. They gave you pleasure, used your body and stomped all over your heart while wearing a big smile on their face.

It might be unbelievably good when it was actually happening, but the aftermath was always, always devastating.

“Let’s go sit down. Get you off your feet.” He smiled, this time full on, flashing teeth. It sent a zing to her belly, then lower, and she swore her panties grew wet at the sight of it.

This is so not good.

“I’ll be fine.” She tried to withdraw from his touch, but he had a firm hold on her. As if he didn’t want to let go. “Once I get in my car I’ll kick them off.”

“Come on.” He tugged on her arm, and she had no choice but to follow. Where he was taking her, she had no clue. She had a suspicion he didn’t know either. But she went with him, his fingers sliding down to circle around her wrist, his touch gentle. It sent little shock waves of sensation spiraling throughout her body.

“There you are.” Both of them halted at the sound of Drake’s voice, and she stopped short, bumping into Trevor in the process.

He was solid, his back a hard wall of muscle and so warm. He felt…amazing.

Her gaze settled on Drake, and she smiled. Here was the man she needed to focus on, the sweetly handsome doorman at that hot dance club downtown. Drake was beautiful. The light brown hair with the slight wave, the exotic, stark slant of cheekbones and jaw, warm olive skin and lean body, he was just her type.

And she had a bona fide raging crush on him.

“Hey, Scarlett.” He smiled, his pale green eyes sparkling. But they weren’t sparkling at her. They were locked on Trevor. The expression of longing, of pure and utter want that crossed over his face for the briefest second was so clear, she almost lost her breath.

And in that moment, she knew her chasing had been futile. The man clearly didn’t want her. He wanted Trevor.