“Absolutely,” Alex agreed with what he knew had to be a stupid grin.
“Just be sure not to pass it along,” Damien whispered, leaning toward Alex so Cailin couldn’t hear his words.
Just you wait, dickhead, he thought as Cailin took the last few steps into his outstretched arm. Gathering her close, he inhaled her sweet scent down deep into his lungs, and his erection jerked at the punch of vanilla and the curve of her hip brushing against his hard length.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
An uneasy smile hovered on Cailin’s lips, and her gaze darted to the groups of people nearby.
Nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “Relax. I’m here.”
Cailin nodded but still didn’t speak. Only one way to get rid of her nerves.
Alex lowered his head and took her mouth. The kiss he gave her wasn’t discreet at all, but after her first startled “mmh,” she didn’t shy away. Her tongue played with his, and when he finally let go, hunger had replaced the anxious look from a moment before.
“Hey,” she murmured breathlessly.
Mission accomplished.
Damien rolled his eyes, muttered something about Alex not being the only man in the room, and stepped in to kiss Cailin’s cheek. “Hello, hon.”
“Dam-i-en!” The last syllable rose in a disconcerted squeak as Damien gathered her into a hug—and settled his splayed hand a little too close to the rounded curve of her ass, or rather, on the rounded curve of her ass.
Growling at his friend, Alex extricated Cailin from his friend’s hold and pulled her to safety. “Stop groping my girlfriend.”
Damien flashed him a sly grin. “Can I move on to ogling then? ’Cause that is some dress.” He pulled one of Cailin’s hands out to the side and took in the full view once more. A low whistle puckered his lips. “Da-amn!”
Cailin shook her head at Damien’s antics, a delighted sparkle in her eye. They talked for a few minutes about the Goth-style Christmas decorations the decorator had chosen to complement the club’s sleek decor as they made their way over to the bar. Alex was seating Cailin on an end bar stool when one of the employees drew Damien aside. A word or two filtered back to them over the music.
“Sir…woman…you.”
“Who?”
Alex couldn’t catch the name, but the flash of anger darkening his friend’s cool eyes said whoever it was hadn’t been invited.
“What is it?” Cailin asked. Alex shook his head.
“…here…town…”
Damien hissed what Alex guessed from the look on his face were some fairly unsuitable words, then, “…busy. Get a number…”
“…insists…only you.” The young man shrugged.
This time the “damn it!” was clear—and clearly pissed off. Damien turned to Alex and Cailin. “This can’t be put off, sorry.” He bussed Cailin’s cheek, then nodded at Alex. “I’ll see you later on tonight. You guys enjoy yourselves.”
As Damien turned and headed toward the front, Alex looked beyond his friend’s wide shoulders and caught a glimpse of a tall woman in a rocker outfit that would rival the most flamboyant Saturday night crowds at Thrice, a full sleeve of ink snaking up the arm closest to him. The woman met his gaze, then turned away, squaring her shoulders as Damien planted himself in front of her.
“Trouble in Thrice?” Cailin asked.
Alex shook his head, but he wasn’t too sure. Shaking off the moment, he ordered his beer and a Coke for her. They took their drinks to a nearby table, and the swarm descended.
“Alex!” The hearty boom of Cade Ragen’s voice fairly shook the tables. Part of the thriving Atlanta financial market, Cade was also one of the new board members at Keane Industries, filling the spot vacated by James Allen—may the bastard rot in jail.
Alex stood to shake Cade’s work-roughened hands. Any man willing to get his hands dirty the honest way, Alex considered a vast improvement from the members of the board who’d “agreed” to his forced retirement plan. Ragen certainly fit the bill. “Cade, happy holidays.”
“Now, down here we say merry Christmas and to hell with all that PC stuff.” Tapping the brim of his Stetson, Cade greeted Cailin. “Hello, miss.”
“My girlfriend, Cailin Gray,” Alex said and gave Cade a warning glance when the man’s eyes widened.
“Well now, it’s a pleasure, Ms. Gray.” Cade’s gaze dropped briefly to the wedding band on Alex’s right hand, the symbol of his marriage to Sara Beth. Alex knew the rumors: that he wore the ring because he couldn’t let Sara Beth go, that they’d divorced because she’d refused to give him an heir. And those were the tame explanations. The gossipmongers had been busy—and way off the mark. Fortunately, curious or not, Cade kept his questions to himself and instead asked Cailin about her work.