Deep (Pagano Family #4)(16)

Finally, Nick’s eyes shifted from hers, and he gestured at the seats. Everybody shuffled into the booth, and Bev didn’t miss the way Chris maneuvered himself to sit between her and Nick. In fact, she ended up on the outside edge of one side.

The booth walls blocked quite a bit of the sound, surprisingly, so conversation was possible. It turned out that Nick and his friend—whose name was Brian—were interested in talking to Romeo about working security for them. For the Paganos. That was twice at this club, on one night, that he’d been hit up, out of the blue, to work as a professional badass. Bev wondered if that happened to him a lot.

He was still smiling and shaking his head, though. He wasn’t interested. Nick let his friend Brian do most of the talking, but Bev noticed that his attention was fully on the blond, as if he was getting answers to questions that weren’t even being asked.

Finally, Brian leaned back with a shrug, and Nick extended his hand to Romeo. “Understood. If you change your mind, talk to Thomas here at the club. Or Jake.” He turned to the others. “Stay and have a drink.”

Chris spoke up, “Thanks, but we had kind of a night planned.” He turned and tried to shift Bev out of the booth. She could have punched him. He was insistent, though, and Skylar and Romeo were moving, too, so she got to her feet and smoothed her dress over her ass as gracefully as she could.

She looked up and saw Nick watching her hands on her ass. When his eyes lifted to hers again, she saw interest there. As she had last night, before he sent her on her way, she saw that she appealed to him. She didn’t look away. Even as Chris came to his feet and moved her a step to the side, she held Nick’s gaze. She smiled, and he smiled back. That was a hell of a smile he had. It was a shame he didn’t use it more.

And then Chris was pulling her away from the dark seclusion of Nick’s booth, out into the loud heat of the club. He didn’t let go of her until they were in the middle of the dance floor. She pulled her arm from his grasp.

“That was rude,” she yelled into his ear.

“Sorry—that was just weird. Didn’t you think it was weird?” He yelled back.

Bev looked over and saw Romeo and Skylar dancing, sort of. Romeo had picked her up, and he was rocking back and forth while they talked. Bev wanted what they had. Romeo just loved her friend; it was written all over his face. He was a big, apparently intimidating monster of a man, but he was a genuinely good guy, and for his girl, he was a cupcake. And Sky was just the same; they gave each other exactly what they needed. Sky had much better taste in men than Bev. All Bev had ever gotten from a man was hurt.

Chris was right. So she shook it off, turned her back to the dark booth at the side of the room, and danced with her friend.



oOo



A couple of hours later, Bev and her friends were beginning to wind down. Her feet, bound up in high-heeled, strappy shoes chosen for looks rather than comfort, were sore. Her hair was damp and coming loose from dancing, and she was fair-to-middling drunk. Chris, the night’s designated driver, had switched to water and lost any shred of enthusiasm for the night shortly thereafter. But Romeo and Sky were still canoodling on the dance floor while Bev and Chris sat at the bar.

Bev had tried hard to ignore the booth the rest of the evening, but her eyes had darted that direction of their own volition a few times. It seemed that Nick had never left his seat. People came and went—mostly men—but he stayed put. She didn’t understand why he’d even come to a place like this if he’d intended to simply sit and hold court.

“I’m going to take a piss. See if you can’t get Romeo and his Juliet off the dance floor. It’s a long drive home.” Chris slid off his barstool and headed to the bathrooms. Feeling tired and disheartened, Bev didn’t bother signaling to the lovebirds.

Somebody sat in Chris’s seat, and she turned to tell whoever it was that the seat was taken. But it was Nick, that half-smile on his face. He leaned in close and spoke into her ear. “Where’d your boyfriend go?”

She turned to his ear to answer, and was caught up in his scent. Clean and male, a faint linger of tobacco. “He’s in the john, and he’s not my boyfriend. Where’s your girlfriend tonight?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Well, that was news. Bev had seen her going out of the building as she’d been coming in just a couple of days ago. “Really.”

“Really. Come home with me tonight.”

Bev nearly choked on her vodka tonic, but she managed to stay fairly cool. “What?”

He didn’t answer, except with his eyes.

“Are you looking for a revenge f*ck? Or a rebound thing?”

“I don’t rebound. And when I seek revenge, this is not how I do it.”

Something was very wrong with Bev. That sentence should have scared her straight out of the club. Instead, it made her wet. She was turned on by the rumble of menace in his statement, so turned on she couldn’t resist shifting on her stool, rubbing her legs together. But she didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t want your heart, Beverly. I want your body. I won’t ask again.”

If he hadn’t punctuated that sentence by running a finger over her shoulder and down her arm, maybe she would have said no. But he had. So instead of being smart and refusing him—if in fact that would have been the smart choice; she wasn’t completely clear on that—she put her mouth to his ear and said, “I need to tell my friends.”