A Beautiful Distraction(83)

“And I never realized my favorite dance partner who danced the part of Oberon would turn into some big football star.”

He shrugged. “You still keep in touch with anyone? You ever talk to Curt? I haven’t heard from him since he left for West Point after high school.”

“No,” she said coldly, then readjusted her weight in her stilettos and smiled. “You’re the first person I’ve seen from back home in eight years. And to be honest, Jake, I don’t care to ever see anyone else.”

“Whatever happened to you, Lynn?” Concern filled his eyes. He was her friend, and she’d just upped and left without any explanation. “You were just gone one day, and no one liked to talk about it.”

“It’s a long story, Jake. Definitely not one to put a damper on your Saturday night with.” She patted him on the shoulder and waved Amelia over. Jake was a good guy, but he could use a little Amelia to spice up his evening and she could use a little Amelia to distract him.

Not disappointing, Amelia approached wearing her signature smile and a subtle sway to her hips. “Amelia, this is my friend Jake. His drinks are on the house tonight.” She winked at him. “Jake, Amelia will take great care of you, but let me know if you—”

“Fallon,” Jade interrupted, strutting quickly toward the table.

“Excuse me, Jake. It was good to see you. Good luck at your game on Monday. Don’t tell anyone, but I hope you kick the Broncos’ asses.” She winked again.

Jade’s lips tucked into her mouth as she came to a stop in front of Fallon, a hesitant expression on her face.

“All right, don’t skirt around it. What’s wrong?” Fallon asked.

Jade sighed. “George wanted me to let you know that someone’s trying to get in who’s out of dress code.”

Bullshit. George would never ask for her if someone was out of dress code. He just wouldn’t allow them in. Simple as that.

Fallon knew exactly what this meant. And who.

Two things wafted through her mind as she descended the stairs toward the entrance. The first and obvious question running rabid was why, after exact instructions not to allow Rafe back into the club, was George even flirting with the idea of allowing him in? She didn’t need George to play matchmaker. And the second thought was, Why was he here? But she knew why. He was here to see her. And the reaction that conclusion gave her body was reason enough for her to just turn the other direction and go to her office.

But she didn’t.

That would’ve been too easy, too smart.

As she stepped from the spiral staircase and into the main part of the club, her eyes found him instantly. He was leaning against the door with his strong, tattooed arms folded across his chest. Those butterflies that had made their first appearance their first night together returned with a vengeance. The undeniable increase in her heart rate made her breath come in quick, short pants. He was breathtakingly sexy. Sexy in that rough-around-the-edges, arms-that-could-make-her-whimper, eyes-that-could-make-her-lose-her-breath kind of way. But also in that angry way. In a way that his jaw was clenched, his beautiful, imperfect mouth set in a tight line, and his stone eyes like cold, black glass.

He was sexy when he was smiling or laughing—anything to do with that damaged mouth of his was sexy. But seeing him like this—mad—did something else to her completely.

It fueled her.

Anticipation licked up her spine. That intensity, the overwhelming power found in his posture, his body language, his eyes—it seared her open and welcomed hot, raw need. But she couldn’t.

Rafe patted George on the shoulder and stepped into the club. Her appreciation for a well-dressed, well-groomed man took a back burner to the way Rafe looked right now. His black T-shirt hung just below the waist of his perfectly worn-in jeans, which fell straight and loose over his black boots. The sleeves of his T-shirt gripped the delectable cut in his biceps. She wanted to feel his sturdy hand press into the small of her back, flattening her body against his, and she wanted to lean her head against his chest and kiss his arm as it wrapped around her. His face was rough with a few days of stubble, and his eyes were thirsty—for her. She felt the need to quench her own thirst as she stood before him, a short distance away from touching him. . . .

But those were thoughts she had no business thinking right now.

Continuing her way around tables clustered with people, she neared him until they were face-to-face. Rafe disregarded any semblance of personal space and stepped even closer, until their bodies were touching. For once, she couldn’t find words to spit at him. And she was ready to cave, ready to tell her pride to take a hike and allow herself the fulfillment this man had given her in the short time she’d known him.