Crush(85)

Just then the bells chimed and a young man wearing a news cap came in carrying a bouquet of roses. “Delivery for Elle Sterling.”

“That’s me.” She smiled, and I could tell she thought they were from me.

They weren’t.

The kid walked over to her and handed them off. “Sorry I’m so late. You’re the last delivery of the day. Have a great night.”

“You, too,” she said still smiling.

“God willing,” he said, and I found his response completely odd.

As if he knew what I was thinking, his eyes found mine, and he stared at me his entire trip back to the door. His eyes were icy blue and he had a familiar look about him, but I couldn’t place him. Under his cap, I could see he had dark hair. A black Irish, as my gramps would have called him.

Elle picked up the card and when she read it, her face fell.

“Who are they from?” I asked, suspicion in my voice that even I hated to hear.

She slid the small card back into the envelope and set the flowers down. “Michael,” she said. “He just wanted to thank me for helping him with Clementine last weekend.”

A noise escaped my throat and I couldn’t stop the wave of nausea that seemed to run through me. I took a deep, steadying breath.

“Logan, don’t.”

I looked away. “Don’t what?”

“I can see you shutting down. You know he and I are going to come into contact with each other. It’s impossible to avoid him. Not if I want to keep seeing Clementine.”

Infuriated, I tried to push the anger away. I pulled in another deep breath and tried to think of things differently. She didn’t ask to get the flowers.

Okay, it still irked me, because she did get them.

And I didn’t send them.

Different take.

She didn’t want him. She wanted me.

And that was the truth.

I let the air seep from my lungs.

Elle crossed the room to the display of handheld satellite radios shaped like small purses from Japan that could really jam. Instead of turning off the one that was playing music, she turned it up. “Do you like to dance?” she asked out of the blue.

I didn’t want to let her distract me. but I was tired of arguing about him. I had decided to trust her and until O’Shea could be sorted out, either as bad or worse, I had to stop my shit. I made a conscious decision then to let this go.

For now, anyway.

I leaned back against the antique counter that once sold tickets for a carousel in Vienna and watched her hips sway in the short black dress she was wearing. It made her legs look a mile long. “When I was in college I spent my summers in the Hamptons and my friends and I used to hit the clubs, but I haven’t done that in a while.”

Her hands went above her head and her entire body started to move slowly.

I pushed off the counter and made my way over toward her. I didn’t know the song that was playing, but it didn’t matter. When I got close enough, I offered my hand. “May I have this dance?”

She smiled at me and her smile reached her eyes when she extended her hand. “I didn’t mean you had to dance with me.”

I pulled her close to me, right up against my body. “I don’t have to do anything. I want to.”

She bit her lip.

My hands anchored her hips and we danced slowly in a circle, our feet moving half an inch at a time. She’d told me one time that she hadn’t gone to her prom. I could give her the prom. If someday she wanted something grander I’d bring her to the Met Ball. Fuck, I would give her everything she’d missed. I wanted her to experience it all.

We moved well together, those two pieces of a puzzle that fit just right.

After a while, I took it up a notch, changing moves from slow dancing to more dirty dancing. My thigh slid between hers and we continued to move together. Everything around us disappeared and it was just the two of us in our wonderland.

Her hands slid from my shoulders up to cup the back of my neck. She rubbed the spot where once she’d been able to run her fingers through my hair. My hair was gone, but her touch was hot. I felt branded. Like she knew I needed to know we belonged only to each other.

Heat flared where my groin rubbed against her lower belly. I had to kiss her. I slid my hands up her back to tangle in her hair, and then I tipped her head back so I could slide my lips down her neck.

She made a noise that had my hands skirting the hem of her dress, but I stopped myself. I didn’t want everything we did to end up in sex. I wanted to show her we could be together and not end up naked. It just seemed like the mature thing to do when one was trying to have a real, grown-up relationship.

But f*ck, it was hard to stop my fingers from twitching. She, too, was fighting the driving desire. I could tell. Her eyes were squeezed closed. Her lips were parted. And her nipples were like small diamonds protruding from the fabric of her dress.

My lips found her ear. “When we make it to New York, I’ll take you to the Rose Bar. It’s a great place to go dancing.”

She kept moving. “I think I’ve heard of it.”

“Jeremy owns it. It’s a Jet Set property.”

The lace of her dress flapped with our movement and somehow I managed to keep my hands at bay. “I had no idea he was that famous,” she joked.

I laughed. “Not famous, just a friend.”