Claiming His Nine-Month Consequence

And, oh, sweet heaven, what would it do to her if he actually touched her?

What would it feel like if he lifted his hand from the bar and stroked her cheek? If his fingertips traced down her throat? If he cupped his hand gently around her breast?

Ruby’s nerve endings zapped with shock, her nipples tightening beneath her cotton bra. A sweet low ache coiled low and deep inside her. She put her hands on the bar to steady herself.

“What…” The words caught in her throat, and she swallowed, her voice suddenly shaky. “What do you want?”

His dark gaze fell to her lips. He smiled.

“Dance with me.”

Dance with him? This Greek god whom everyone else was losing their minds over? Ruby caught at the tendrils of her sanity. “No.”

“Why not?”

Don’t ever believe anything a rich man tells you. Her mother’s sad voice came back to her. They are liars, all of them. Liars and thieves.

Taking a deep breath, Ruby squared her shoulders and managed to say in a calm, strong voice, “I don’t dance.”

“You don’t dance? You don’t drink? You are old-fashioned.” His eyes slowly traced her body, making her cheeks hot in spite of herself. “I could teach you,” he murmured. “When is your break?”

She gripped the edge of the bar. “No, thanks. I just work here. It’s not what I do for fun.”

Ares tilted his head thoughtfully, taking a sip of his beer. “What do you do for fun?”

“I…” Ruby tried to remember. It had been a long time since fun was on her agenda. Even before her mother got sick, before Ruby had taken three jobs to provide for their family, she’d been busy after school, taking care of Ivy and running the house, back when their mom was the one who’d worked three jobs. Ruby blinked. Fun?

Ares covered her hand with his own.

“Tell me what you’d do.” His voice was low, persuasive. “If you could do anything in the world tonight.”

At the touch of his powerful hand over hers, a tremble went through her, as violent as a hard flood of rain across hot, parched earth. A bead of sweat formed between her breasts.

How could he make her body react like this just by putting his hand on hers?

Pulling away, Ruby muttered unwillingly, “I’d be up on the mountain.”

“The mountain?”

“Some of the other ski instructors are running Renegade Night.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s no night skiing at the resort, so before the season ends, just when the snow’s starting to melt, we run our own the old-fashioned way. Tonight’s the last full moon.”

“Is the moon so bright?”

“We also use torches.”

Ares’s eyes sharpened with interest. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Of course you haven’t. It’s locals only.”

“I see.” Finishing the beer, he put the glass down on the bar. “Good to know. Thanks for the drink.”

Tossing a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, Ares left without another word.

Ruby stared after him, her mouth round with surprise. All she’d wanted him to do was leave her—and Ivy—alone. But now he had gone so abruptly, she felt oddly deflated.

“Wow.” Monty, the other bartender, snorted beside her. “That was cold. What did you say to make him practically turn and run?”

Ruby’s cheeks went hot. She quickly turned to restock the clean glasses. “He just wanted a beer.”

“Obviously.”

A waitress hurried up with another drink order. Dazed, Ruby poured three shots of tequila, and had just put them on the tray when the lights of the club suddenly turned full-on. She blinked, blinded by the bright light. There were groans of shock across the crowd as the music, too, was turned off.

Paul Vence, the wizened former musician who owned the Atlas Club, appeared on the dance floor in all his purple-leather-wearing glory.

“We’re closed for the night,” his voice boomed, surprisingly loud for a man so short. “Everyone out!”

The customers and the staff looked at each other in bewilderment.

“Out! Now!” Mr. Vence looked at the bartenders and staff. “Don’t worry. All of you will still get paid for the night. Tips included.”