Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

Dylan stared blankly for a moment like he couldn’t place me, and then he started laughing convulsively. “Damn, Abe’s in trouble.”

All over again I felt embarrassed about this ridiculous dress. Last time I tried to look sexy when I ended up in seeing work-related people. “Will you let us in?”

Dylan waved magnanimously at the bouncer, who seemed to be resisting an eye-roll or two. We skirted by him thankfully.

Several private rooms were up here, and we entered the loudest. My spidy-senses tingled, and I spotted Abe from the back. He stood at the bar, laughing with several of his teammates. I shouldn’t have cared about the three women around him who wore more revealing dresses than mine, but they rubbed me the wrong way instantly.

My brain started going into tunnel vision, but I vaguely remembered there was something else I was supposed to do. I turned to Dylan. “Introduce Lucy to Keith, will you?”

Dylan looked half-entertained and half-offended. “What, I’m not good enough?”

Lucy smirked, and I figured they were safe to take each other on. Though what about Sabeen? I glanced around and saw Garza close by, who looked shocked by my outfit, but nodded when I said, “This is my roommate Sabeen. Play nice.”

And then I walked slowly toward Abe.

I could tell the instant he saw me, because he went utterly still and an almost possessive desire darkened his eyes. He set his drink down carefully, like he was afraid of shattering it, and stepped away from the bar to meet me. He seemed robbed of words as he took in my bare expanse of skin.

I smiled. “Didn’t think I’d come, did you?”

He shook himself, and then shrugged off his sports jacket and swung it around my shoulders. “You’ll cause a train wreck.”

I should have been put out that he was trying to cover me up, but instead my smile broadened. “There are no trains.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

I didn’t drop his gaze. “No.”

He reached out and slid his hand around my neck. I leaned into it, and he smiled. His hand trailed down the line of my throat and his thumb swept my low neckline. My skin pebbled with goose bumps.

I pressed my hand to his chest to stop him. “Abe...”

“So?” He breathed the word against my neck. “Isn’t this why you came here?”

He was right. But I shouldn’t have. I should’ve known better. “Maybe I’m here to interview people.”

His hand fell to trace the high hemline of my dress, which cut across the upper portion of my thighs. “In this dress?”

“It’s possible,” I breathed.

He laughed, equally breathless. “Not on your life. If you just wanted to be friends, you wouldn’t have worn this dress.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you could just walk away right now, because we’re just friends, and I’m crossing the line.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I could, you know.”

He grinned, cocky and sure. “Go ahead and try it.”

I sucked in a breath—and turned and walked away.

But I could feel the thrill of leaving in the fine hairs that rose on the back of my neck, in the way the nerves in my feet tingled, in the butterflies of desire quickening in my belly. Even as I walked faster and deeper into the back rooms of the club, I could feel him following me, feel the chase that I shouldn’t be indulging in, shouldn’t have been creating.

I still couldn’t stop myself as I ducked into a dark, silent room, all black and red, muffled by velvet cushions and drapes. Surely a thousand clandestine affairs had occurred here, a thousand dalliances begun and hearts broken. I stopped on the far side of the room, breathing hard, waiting with the anticipation.

When the door snapped closed I turned, heart in my eyes, hot and wild as the man striding across the room toward me. He pushed me up against the wall, and we were kissing, tangled in each other, his tongue parting my lips with exquisite skill until I was moaning under his ministrations. There was nothing anymore, just him and me, the sensation of tongues and lips and sliding hands. His hand pushed my dress up around my hip and curved down around my ass. It slid up to the inside of my leg, and toyed with the thin cloth.

I groaned and then caught his hands and held them between us. What was I doing here? I should be home, alone, not diving back into this. What happened to getting over Abraham? I was apparently a sucker for failure. “I shouldn’t.”