Just For Kicks. Susan Andersen
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top of the sporty auto’s red roof. “You talking to me?”
“No. It’s just…I don’t understand why certain people have chemistry with each other while other guys—people—leave you cold.”
“Is that what’s yanking your chain with Wolfgang? You got some chemistry going with a guy you don’t like?”
“Hell, no! Well…maybe.” She shook her head. “No, no, of course not. It’s his lack of respect for the babies, that’s all.” But that wasn’t all, and she gave the other dancer a helpless grimace. “Oh, crap, Treena, I don’t know.”
A friend for ages, Treena took pity on her and changed the subject. “So, how’s your ankle feeling? You sure it’s going to hold up for you tonight?”
Carly shrugged. “I’m not even sure of my own name these days.” She held her fist out, knuckles facing her friend. “But here’s hoping.”
Treena bopped it with her own. “Promise me you won’t push yourself if it starts to hurt too much.”
“Cross my heart, Mom.” Her tone was ironic, but she gave her friend an affectionate smile. “It feels so much better than it did Monday night—or even yesterday—and I’m pretty sure I’m back up to speed. But if I feel it start to go I’ll call it a night. You have my word on that.” As they headed down Row E for the garage elevator, she gave her friend a friendly bump with her hip. “So San Francisco was good, huh?”
“Oh, wow.” Treena’s pale brown eyes grew dreamy. “It was so great. We stayed at the St. Francis and saw as many sights as we could pack into two days.”
“Jax didn’t play in a poker tournament, then?”
“No, and it was so smokin’ not to have a single thing we had to do. We ate too much and maybe drank a bit too much and just played tourists. And the weather was gorgeous. So much cooler than it is here.”
“Yeah, this is unseasonable for mid-October. The temps should be dropping any day now.”
“I’m beyond ready. It was such a relief when the thermometer took its normal dip a couple of weeks ago. I wasn’t prepared for the temperature to start soaring again.”
The noise of the casino bombarded them as the elevator doors slid open into the hotel lobby, but after years of working there Carly was adept at automatically relegating the din to background noise. Dodging the tourists who didn’t wait for them to exit the car before barging into it, they skirted a bellman maneuvering a rolling luggage cart across the marble lobby floor and strode into the casino proper. They passed the Italian bistro, with its smells of garlic, tomatoes and olive oil, passed their favorite little after-work open-air lounge, then took a left at the craps tables, heading for the east wall and the short hallway that led to the employees-only area backstage of the Starlight Room.
“Ms. Jacobsen.”
Damn! Carly didn’t need Treena’s murmured, “Looks like the bum is back,” to know who she’d see when she turned around. Sighing, she pivoted on her heel.
She studied Wolfgang Jones as he strode up to them. Looking at him objectively for perhaps the first time ever, she finally got a handle on part of what her problem was. It wasn’t merely that he was so cool and controlled he was damn near robotic; it wasn’t even that he didn’t seem to like animals. It was those two elements combined with the fact that he had that edge she liked in a man. That don’t-fuck-with-me-and-don’t-even-think-you-have-a-chance-of-tying-me-down edginess that sucked her in every time.
Part of the appeal spoke directly to her own personality, since she had no desire to tie any man down. Never had, never would.
Especially not this man.
Still, there was just something that turned her on about a guy with the confidence to stride through life with his goals firmly front and center.
Really.
Turned her.
On.
Wolfgang had that goal orientation. She didn’t have the first idea what his objectives were, but she didn’t doubt for a minute that he had them. He also possessed one superbly fit body. She might have a preference for men in jeans, but beautifully cut slacks did nothing to detract from the muscular swell of his butt. Neither did his pricy well-tailored jacket disguise the width of his shoulders.
No, ma’am. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with the physique beneath those upscale threads.
He stopped in front of her, standing close enough that she had to tip her head back in order to look up into his cool green eyes. She tried to assure herself that wasn’t a thrill all on its own, but knew it for the lie it was. Because at more than six feet tall herself in high heels—which meant seventy-five percent of the time—looking up at any man was a treat.
“I need to talk to you about your injury the other night,” he said with crisp precision. Pulling his head back, he slid his gaze slowly down her until it reached her ankle, then back up to meet her eyes once again. “You are better?”
A little curl of warmth unfurled in her stomach. “Yes, very much so, thank you.”
“Good. Then you will need to fill out an incident report so I can close the event.”
The warmth iced over. Yet her eyes still narrowed on his lower lip, noting that when he wasn’t all stern-mouthed the way she was accustomed to seeing him, it was much fuller than she’d previously realized. Yes, indeed, he had that beckoning edge, that look she went for in a guy—not particularly handsome, perhaps, but definitely all man.
If only he would keep his mouth shut.
Still, when she raised her gaze and saw him watching her, a frisson of sexual heat curled down her spine.
Whoa. Wait a minute. That selfsame backbone snapped erect. What the hell was she thinking? She didn’t even intend to go there with this man. “Yeah. Sure,” she said. “I’ll get right on that.” She turned away.
He wrapped his hand around her forearm and swung her back. She gave the long fingers and broad palm grasping her flesh—and pumping heat throughout her system—a pointed look.
Wolfgang set her loose. “Now would be a good time.”
“Not for me, it wouldn’t,” she disagreed coolly. “I’m on my way to work, and I don’t intend to bring myself to my G.M.’s attention by being late. Trust me, Vernetta-Grace is scarier than your entire Security and Surveillance force combined. I’m sure you understand.” She shot him a challenging look from beneath her lashes. “You being so big on personal responsibility and all.”
“Fine.” His mouth adopted the slant of grim hardness with which she was much more familiar. “Then stop by Surveillance and sign off on the report when you’re done for the night.”
“Absolutely. I’ll be sure to do that before we go home.” She turned to Treena. “Remind me, okay?”
“Sure.”
She swung back to Wolfgang. “There you go. Anything else?”
“No.”
“Gotta run, then. We’re on the clock in about fifteen minutes and we still have to change and get into our makeup.”
He stepped back with a stiff nod and she and Treena walked away.
Once they were out of earshot her friend glanced over at her. “It’s going to be a cold day in hell before we stop by to sign off on Wolfgang’s incident report, isn’t it?”
Carly snorted. “Oh, yeah. A very cold day.”
SHE WAS FEELING SURPRISINGLY full of herself when she bopped into the backstage dressing room a few minutes later, and just for a minute she wondered if that should worry her.
As if reading her mind, Treena shot her a dry, sideways look. “You might be having just a little