“Aidan!” Roarke sighed. “Talk about a potential train wreck!”
Aidan’s jaw tightened. “Why?”
“You’re not the one to do this.”
“Of course I am. I’m the most highly trained security specialist we have.”
“And you want her.”
Aidan tried to stare his brother down, but it was no use. Roarke’s senses were as finely tuned as his, and they were brothers, only nineteen months apart. The minute Roarke had walked into the club, he’d known.
So Aidan said the only thing he could. “I’l control it.”
“What, your johnson?”
That brought a snort from Sylvester.
Usual y Aidan rol ed with his brother’s cracks, but tonight he wasn’t amused. “The situation, Roarke. I’l control the situation.”
“You know that’s easier said than done. Having sex with a human is risky in any context, but it’s especial y dangerous with this author chick.”
Aidan’s lips curled back from his teeth. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
Roarke groaned. “Damn. You’ve gone alpha. Next you’l be marking her front door with your scent.”
“Bite me.”
“I’m tempted. Look, Aidan, don’t go on this book tour. Okay? If she has to be watched, send somebody else.”
“I don’t trust anyone else to handle it.”
Roarke threw up his hands. “I see my little intervention came way too late. Dad should never have assigned you to this gig. I’l bet he hasn’t ever cracked one of her books, has he?”
“I doubt it, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
“She writes good sex.”
“That’s not—”
“Sure it is, Aidan. I picked up a copy of Night Shift today and flipped through it.
The woman knows her stuff. On top of that, the studly hero is—wait for it—a werewolf. You’re Emma’s dream guy. Who wouldn’t get sucked in by that ego trip?”
Clearing his throat, Sylvester stepped from behind the reception desk. “I think Roarke has a point. I’ve read al her books, and if I were twenty years younger ...”
Aidan knew then that he was in big trouble. Sylvester was a beloved uncle. Yet Aidan had the urge to go for his throat simply because the older man had indicated a sexual appreciation of Emma’s work.
Aidan raked a hand through his hair. “You’re both right. I need to take myself off this assignment. And I will after we trace the e-mail. Maybe it’s just a kook. Any of the guys can handle a garden-variety kook.”
“Then my work here is done.” Clapping Aidan on the shoulder, Roarke headed for the stairs. “I knew you’d come to your senses, bro,” he said over his shoulder.
“You’re too smart to let a woman screw up everything.”
Aidan wasn’t so sure about that. His genius IQ made him very good at his job, but it didn’t seem to be helping him overcome his gut reaction to Emma. And because he couldn’t seem to overcome it, he’d have to assign someone else to guard her.
He wondered whether he’d be able to do that.
Chapter 3
Their drinks had arrived, and at first Emma wondered whether she should wait until Aidan returned to take a sip. But the frothy martini, decorated with three coffee beans, cal ed to her. Depending on the problem Aidan had with Roarke, she might not get to stay, and she wanted to know what this new drink tasted like.
Not surprisingly, it tasted like heaven. She was definitely Googling the recipe when she got back to her loft. Or maybe Aidan, who owned the joint, could get her the exact recipe, because she didn’t want a variation of a coffee martini. She wanted this one.
She took a longer sip. Chances were slim she’d get to come here again. If she told Doug about it—and she would tel Doug, she vowed for about the third time—she could predict the result. Because he was a man with manly instincts—although they were sometimes obscured by a preoccupation with the tax code—Doug would show up at her next signing so he could meet Aidan Wal ace.
That could be interesting. The two men were about the same height, but that was where the resemblance ended. Aidan had the body of a star quarterback. Doug had the body of a star ... bridge player. She admired Doug for his mind, which was a perfect left-brain complement to her overly active right brain. But she’d never kidded herself that his body was a wonder to behold. It was okay—not fat or skinny
—just sort of there. Functional.
Until tonight, she’d considered herself more evolved these days because she no longer required sculpted muscles in order to date a man. She took another sip of her drink as Aidan walked back toward their table. Apparently she was regressing to her teen years, because watching Aidan move gave her goose bumps.
“Sorry about that.” Aidan returned to his seat. “Family stuff.” He seemed quiet.
“Do we need to leave? I mean, if there’s something you should take care of, I certainly understand.”
“No, no. Roarke just had some things to tel me.” Yet he definitely seemed subdued by the conversation.
She was curious, but she couldn’t start quizzing him. She didn’t know him Welland didn’t know his family at al . “I’m afraid I started without you. The coffee martini’s great.”
His smile returned. “Glad you like it.” He took a drink of his and nodded.
“Frederick does a good job at the bar.”
“Does Frederick ever give out his recipes?”
Aidan shook his head. “No recipes. The guy mixes drinks instinctively now, and he probably couldn’t tel you how to make this even if he wanted to.”
“Then it’s Google time for me, but guaranteed it won’t be the same.”
“Sorry.”
The silence that fol owed that single-word response told her al she needed to know. That would have been his cue to mention bringing her back again sometime, and he hadn’t said a word. She knew about Doug, but Aidan didn’t, so something else was stopping him from pursuing the relationship.
Imagining what that might be was too depressing, so she wouldn’t think about it.
“The music’s nice, too.”
He studied her for a moment. “Would you like to dance?”
The question startled her, especial y after she’d concluded that he had no interest in her whatsoever, other than her writing ability. “I wasn’t dropping hints. You invited me for a drink, and that’s what we’re having. Please don’t feel obligated to dance with me because I mentioned the music.”
“I didn’t ask because I feel obligated.”
She checked his expression for sincerity. His light brown eyes were warm, and that cute little half smile had reappeared. Talk about your mixed signals. Now he did seem interested.
She had a horrible thought. What if he was the kind of man who was into conquests? She knew absolutely nothing about his personal life or his track record with women. He certainly had the physique and charisma to be a Don Juan. What if he planned to seduce her tonight and then mark her off a master list he kept in his head? Bestselling author: check.
Well, she had a built-in braking system for that kind of man. “I’m seeing someone.”
“I figured you must be.” His eyes glowed with good humor.
Now she felt gauche and unsophisticated. People danced al the time without heading straight for a bedroom afterward. He did have beautiful eyes. “Not that I think you meant anything by asking me to dance. I just thought you should know.”
“So you don’t want to dance?”
That was the problem. She’d love to dance with this man, who might or might not be trying to take advantage of her. If he had sex in mind, she wouldn’t let things go that far. And it was only a dance.
And yet tel ing Doug that she’d had a drink with a fan after the signing was one thing. She wouldn’t even have to mention that the fan was male, actual y. But if she admitted that she’d also danced with said fan, the man-fan thing would become known and the incident would begin to look suspicious.
But the evening would never be repeated, either. She knew that because he hadn’t offered to bring her back sometime for another coffee martini. So this would be her one and only opportunity to have a close encounter of the rhythmic kind with Aidan Wal ace. Chickening out might make her feel less guilty about Doug, but she’d regret missing the experience of dancing with this hot guy.
Research. She’d nearly forgotten that she’d decided to make tonight al about research. What if the her**ne in her next book decided to go dancing with the hunky hero? Sure, Emma could put her imagination to work as to how that would feel, but firsthand knowledge would definitely help.
“I’d love to dance,” she said.
“Good.” Standing, he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. He was even more magnificent without the jacket, which had somewhat disguised his pecs. The gray silk dress shirt, open at the col ar, fit him like a dream.
She gulped a little more of her martini for courage before standing and walking ahead of him to the dance floor. Once there, she turned, prepared to be swept into his strong arms.
Or not. The band switched numbers, launching into a tune with a fast, driving beat.
Emma glanced at Aidan, who shrugged and smiled. Then he stepped onto the floor and initiated the sexiest hip action she’d seen outside of Dancing with the Stars.
Adrenaline pumped through her system as she fol owed suit with a grin of delight.
She had a few moves of her own, and recently they’d been confined to the privacy of her apartment. Back in the day, she’d enjoyed the club scene, but her intense career didn’t give her the time to party. Besides, she didn’t have the right partner.
Doug was will ing to dance, but his sense of timing left something to be desired.
Aidan had the rhythm of a born athlete. If he made love the way he danced— Uh-oh, better not go there, girl. She quickly pul ed herself back from the edge of that perilous cliff of supposition. Instead of picturing Aidan nak*d in tangled sheets, which she would not do, she channeled her sexual energy into her dancing.
It was a decent plan, but ultimately a flawed one. She couldn’t dance without watching Aidan or she was liable to bump into him. She already felt less coordinated than he was, and turning the dance floor into a mosh pit wouldn’t be cool.
Therefore she became aware of each swivel of his hips, each thrust of his pelvis.
She found herself mirroring him in the same way she might if they were horizontal on an innerspring. They weren’t touching, and yet she felt his heat burning al the way to the forbidden zone, the place she was supposed to keep safe and warm for Doug.
Nothing was safe from a man like Aidan. She’d naively thought she could control the situation tonight. Fat chance. If this kept up, somebody would have to turn a fire hose on them.
But the music stopped, leaving them breathing fast and laughing as they gazed at each other. Before Emma could gather her wits, the band eased into a slow number.
Aidan closed the distance between them and drew her into his arms. The top of her head would have fit under his chin if she’d al owed herself to snuggle in. She resisted the impulse and gazed up at him. “Nice dancing.”
“Same to you.” He guided her in a lazy waltz, his thighs brushing hers. His touch was steady and gentle as he telegraphed his movements with subtle pressure against the smal of her back. As with any talented dancer, he made his partner, aka Emma, look and feel good.
She’d never danced with such effortless pleasure in her life. He was weaving a spel that was a mixture of blatant sexuality and romantic tenderness. Women probably fel al over themselves to become a notch in this man’s belt. Assuming he was a notches-in-the-belt kind of guy.
Conversation might help keep her out of trouble, though. “No fair,” she said.
“You’ve had lessons.”
“Not formal lessons.” He brought her a fraction closer, causing her br**sts to settle against his firm chest. “I learned at family gatherings.”
“You dance at family parties?” The idea of a family dancing together enchanted her almost as much as the thought of the party itself. She didn’t have parties with relatives. Her family consisted of her and her mom. An aunt lived out in California, and Emma had some cousins there whom she barely knew. Her dad had left when she was a baby and had never been heard from again.
“It’s a family tradition to have music at our events, so of course everybody is expected to learn to dance.”
“That’s nice.” The closer he held her, the less she felt inclined to make conversation. He felt so damn good. Worse yet, he smel ed good, too. She stil couldn’t identify his cologne, but she desperately wanted to nestle her cheek against his chest and breathe in that heady male fragrance. She longed to be seduced.
But she’d hate herself in the morning, so she resisted the snuggle urge. The alternative wasn’t much better. She was left looking up into his caramel-colored eyes like a lovesick teenager, which was pretty much how she felt. Aidan was rich, handsome, and a terrific dancer. What woman wouldn’t want al that in her bed?
“Do you have a girlfriend?” The second the words were out, she wanted them back. No doubt her face was turning red. Lovely. “Cancel that. Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
By now they were plastered together from chest to groin. She could feel the steady thump of his heart, and ... yes, his obvious arousal. Easing away from him would be the smart way to handle this. She’d always been a smart girl. But she’d never come up against—literal y—the likes of Aidan Wal ace. Now that she was in his arms, she never wanted to leave.
When the music ended, he studied her without loosening his hold. “I suppose you should be getting home.”