Qasim eased his hands about her waist, his thumbs drawing small circles where they touched her bare back.
Vectra exhaled on a long breath while linking an arm about Qasim’s neck. She kept the other loosely linked about his side.
“Who brought you here?” he asked when they’d been swaying to a slow, jazzy tune for the better part of three minutes.
Vectra had been enjoying the feel of whiskers along his jaw. They felt like mink next to her cheek. His question urged her, reluctantly, to raise her head.
“Oliver.” Her gaze narrowed, watching him nod and give in to a faint, satisfied smile. “You approve? Why?”
“I just do.”
“And that’s it? I’m just supposed to accept that?”
“It’s best if you did.”
“Are you married?”
His very attractive features softened in amused shock. “You know I’m not married, Vectra.” He laughed a bit.
“You’re right, I do. Then the only reason I could see you approving of me coming to a party with my brother is because you’re one of those guys who buys into that I-don’t-want-you-but-no-one-else-can-have-you thing. Is that it?”
His amusement vanished. “I’m one of those guys who have a possessive streak.”
Vectra blinked. “Possessive?” Her fingers dug into his shirt a little. “Over me? Why?”
Qasim kept one hand at Vectra’s waist while the other lifted to massage her neck. “What was that you said to me about playing dumb? That I was pitiful at it? So are you.”
Disbelief sparkled in her smoky gaze as she settled both hands to his chest and peered into his hooded stare. “We’ve been friends for so long—”
“And it’s been hell, Vec.”
His words stung, and she eased back as far as he’d let her. “I’m sorry.”
“Babe—” he rested his forehead against hers “—you have nothing to be sorry for. I meant what I said out there. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is my issue, and I won’t see you hurt by it.”
She curved her fingers into his shirt, a bit deeper that time. “You won’t hurt me.”
“I’d die first,” he swore, cupping her face and gently squeezing where he held her. “You don’t need someone as volatile as me in your life.”
“But you want me.”
Her simple observation had the potential to weaken every part of him.
“You’re right. I do,” he admitted with a shrug and a grin. “You’ve got no idea how much.”
The sensual saxophone piece had segued into another instrumental selection, equally moving and romantic.
“You can have me. I want the same,” she said directly against his ear.
Stroking his knuckles across her jaw, Qasim felt himself teetering dangerously close to the verge of total weakness. “You’re sweet with no idea of what you’re saying to me.”
She pulled her hand from his face. “I may be sweet, but I’m no innocent, Qasim. We’re not involved with anyone else. We’ve been friends—”
“And I wish we could be just that, but I want you in my bed too damn bad. That’s evident, isn’t it?”
It was. The added inches her heels provided put them eye to eye, chest to chest, hip to hip. The impressive proof of his words was a thick, lengthy ridge against her thigh.
“I’m not complaining,” her voice carried on scarcely a breath; it was that faint.
“Babe, you don’t understand.”
Confusion claimed her expression. “Then explain it to me. Are you afraid I’ll become clingy? I can assure you I’m not a clingy woman.”
Again, laughter softened the excellent craftsmanship of his face. “No, Vec, I’m not afraid of that.” A man would have to be brain-dead not to want Vectra Bauer clinging to him.
“I’m not looking for an involvement, Qasim.” Her face changed, something haunted claiming it that time. “I’ve had enough of the committed-relationship game to last me a lifetime.”
Qasim averted his head, hiding the sinful flex of a jaw muscle when he heard her outlook.
Applause interrupted their budding conversation as the guest of honor was announced. Qasim and Vectra turned to follow the direction of the spotlight trained on the wide stairway leading down from the establishment’s VIP area. Robb DeWitt was finally making his entrance.
Vectra eased her clapping to finger a tear from her eye. She was sure the reaction hadn’t been brought on by happiness, but frustration. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t make herself resist Qasim’s touch. He’d pulled her back to relax next to his chest to watch as their friend greeted his guests.