Stripped Down. Kelli Ireland
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paying them much attention. When he finally answered, his words stole her breath. “I hope this is more than a single dance but less than a heartache.”
She nodded. They were so on the same page. It could be one night, a night no one would, or could, know about. Anything else could ruin her reputation and get her fired from the Sovereign project. She lifted her chin, determined. “Tonight, then.”
The air between them became a charged milieu, electric and volatile, as they stared at each other.
He moved in so close his lips brushed hers when he asked, “Want to get out of here?”
“It’s Gwen’s bachelorette party. I can’t just leave.” But she wanted to. Badly.
“I understand.” Glancing at his watch, the slight tension around his eyes eased. “Bar closes in thirty minutes.” Full lips tipped up and green eyes glinted in the low light. “We could just occupy this corner until then.”
Caught between the desire to do just that and a potential panic attack at doing just that, she settled her hands on his hips and gently pushed. “Believe it or not, I’m not entirely comfortable with public displays.”
“You dance like a hedonist yet you’re worried about being caught kissing me?” There was an underlying edge to the words.
She tipped her chin up and met his cooling stare. “I’m a relatively private person. I dance, yes, but that’s entirely different from being caught in a dark corner with someone’s hands down my pants.”
He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath before nodding. “Okay. I respect that.” He stepped away, creating space between them she didn’t want. “You want to kill the time on the dance floor?”
“Why don’t we find Gwen? Once she leaves, we can, too,” she answered, scanning the club for her friend.
“Sure.” He took her hand and laced their fingers together.
She didn’t comment, but let him lead her through the crowd toward the table they’d held. Several of the women from the party were there. They looked over at her and Dalton, taking in their linked hands. A couple of suggestive glances were exchanged.
Cass stepped forward, but Dalton tightened his grip. “You ladies know where our lovely little bride has run off to?”
“Last we heard, she was going to dance with the bartender one more time before she headed home. Said she missed Dave.”
He smiled. “Ladies,” Dalton said abruptly. “Have a nice evening.”
Squashing the urge to squirm, she slipped her arm around Dalton’s waist.
He relaxed his grip on her only slightly.
The music cued up, and the mass of people on the dance floor began to move.
Dalton bent low. “Your car or mine?”
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