Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

“Drinks first,” Lucy said. “Boys later. Damn, I hope Keith’s here. If he is, you have to introduce me.”

I stared around, in something of a daze. “Done.”

We fought our way to the bar, where scarily beautiful women measured out drinks like alchemists. I asked for a rum and Coke because I was too overwhelmed to ask for anything more complicated.

“All right.” Lucy took her cocktail. “Now what? Where are they?”

The club was absolutely packed with writhing bodies, and none of them wore shoulder pads and helmets. After a disorientating minute of searching, I pulled out my phone.

Then someone’s hand trailed across my bare shoulders and I stiffened. That was not Abe’s hand.

“Well, hello.” With a slight leer, Jensen Clay circled around in front of me. He barely glanced at my face.

I straightened to my full height, which was at least two heads shorter than him. “Don’t try lines on me, Jensen.”

Jensen jerked his eyes to mine, startlement clear and recognition slowly forming. “Wait...”

“Yup.” I crossed my arms as his eyes went back to my very bare thighs. Thank God I’d switched out the plastic-wrap dress for this one.

Jensen looked vaguely horrified. “You’re the Sports Today chick.”

“Yeah.”

He started to grin. “That’s not a very professional outfit.”

Damn, and I thought I’d done well.

Another second string Leopard sidled up to Jensen and draped his arm around him. He grinned at me—and my roommates, who stepped up to my side. “Hello, ladies.”

“Don’t bother.” Jensen sounded amused. “It’s Abe’s reporter girl.”

First, I wasn’t an it, and second, I wasn’t property. “Is he here?”

“He’s upstairs in the back room.”

I lifted my gaze to the upper level and saw a winding balcony manned by a guard. “Thanks.”

The other Leopard grinned at Lucy as we started off. “You could stay here with me, babe.”

Lucy brushed past him. “You couldn’t afford me.”

I eyed her curiously as we wended our way through the crowd to the staircase. “What did that mean?”

She threw back her head and laughed with sheer joy. “I don’t know, but it sounded good, didn’t it?”

Sabeen smirked. “It sounded like you wanted to be a mistress.”

“A mistress,” Lucy mocked. “What does that even mean?”

I ignored their squabbling as we reached the top of the stairs. The bouncer, tall and broad, but with a wiriness that set him apart from the football players, shook his head. “Sorry, ladies. Private party.”

Right. Shoot. We should have brought Jensen along to vouch for us. “We’re meeting someone in there.”

He arched a brow. “Of course you are.”

Lucy pushed forward. “Yeah, but we really are.”

I caught sight of Dylan and waved an arm. “Hey! Dylan! Will you let us in?”