He was black hair and intense dark eyes, an emo fantasy with more muscle. He was an incredible lover. She still panted for him, waking at night wanting the taste of him on her tongue. There he was in the flesh, and all she could do was bite a piece of citrus fruit and wish he’d go away. She couldn’t have him. His dad was the boss. There would be gossip, and she’d be the one who was called an opportunistic slut. He’d just be the rich playboy who toyed with her. Gosh, she wanted him to toy with her.
Jack clapped Luke on the back and wished him a happy birthday. Britt mentally cursed Marj for going off to dance with the birthday boy, leaving her at the table with Jack and that one guy from PR who always played on his phone. She played with the lime wedge and tried to ignore him.
“Dance with me, Britt,” he said, his hand covering hers. She dropped the lime onto the table and shook her head.
“Come on. I’m standing up. It’s obvious I asked you to dance...don’t make me look like a total loser in front of phone guy over there.”
“His name’s Thomas.”
“Right. He’s totally going to shame me for striking out.”
“He doesn’t even know we’re here, Jack. He’s playing some game.”
“Maybe he’s buying baseball cards on eBay,” Jack speculated.
“I don’t want to dance. Especially not with you,” she said. “I’m sorry that sounded meaner than I meant it to. It’s not that I don’t like you...”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t want to be reminded of my indiscretion, okay? It wasn’t like me to do that, and it upsets me to think of it. Seeing you is a reminder that—”
“You’re not perfect? Surprise. None of us are. Now get up and dance. You can feel sorry for yourself later, I promise,” he said, tugging on her hand until she stood to avoid a scuffle.
Jack took her to the dance floor, not very crowded yet, and hooked an arm around her hips. Slowly she loosened up and followed his lead, felt the music and stopped trying so hard not to look like an idiot. He was an incredible dancer. The way he moved made it so obvious he’d be great in bed, which he was, she knew. It annoyed her that she knew that, that she couldn’t enjoy flirting with him because of it. He gazed deeply into her eyes and she smiled. She couldn’t deny they had this amazing chemistry, this fantastic connection. As the song ended, the lead singer of the amazing bar band took the mike and held up his hand.
“Could I get a little crowd encouragement for my friend here? Jack’s been a buddy of mine for a lot of years, and if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have the contract we just landed. So I’d like you to welcome him onstage and help me convince him to do a couple of songs with us.”
The crowd cheered as he climbed onto the stage.
“Thanks, guys, but you got that deal on your own merit. All I did was introduce you. If you want to do one together, let’s go,” he said.
The frontman leaned down and handed his phone to someone in the crowd so they could video. The drummer started the intro, and Jack took a guitar. Within seconds, he’d brought everyone in the place to their feet with a low sexy riff that sounded vaguely Spanish and sultry. He murmured lyrics low into the mike, his voice raspy and intimate. Britt felt herself swaying back and forth to the music, transfixed by him. It wasn’t until she heard people singing along that she realized she knew the song, that he was doing some slow burn sexy version of Rocket Man. Laughing, she joined in, clapping in time and singing.
“Is he for real?” Marj hissed in her ear. “Because my panties just hit the floor. For real.”
“I have no idea,” she lied easily.
“I mean, I haven’t been this turned on by anything since I saw a forbidden donut in the copy room this morning. This low carb diet is killing me. He doesn’t have carbs though. Do you think there would be, like, repercussions if I screwed the boss’s son?”
“He’s a coworker. Isn’t it in our contract that we’re not supposed to fornicate with our colleagues?”
“We’re not doing it in the office or anything. I just mean that he brings out the sorority girl in me. I always went for lead singers in college.”
“Time to relive the old days?”
“Could be. Looking at him I think I want to break out my tank tops and body glitter.”
“I thought you and Luke were hot and heavy.”
“We flirt.”
“Flirty isn’t the word I’d pick to describe your dancing, but it does rhyme.”
“How can you look at him up there and not want to go for it?”
“Not my type,” Britt said tightly, holding back the urge to wave her hands in her friend’s face and tell her to back off of him.
“Your type is boring. This’ll be a story I can tell for years to come, even if I only tell it to myself.”