River of Love(8)

“Sure. Slide right up there, honey.” Ty nodded to the other side of the booth.

“Thanks, bro.” He took a step away, then thought better of it and whipped out his wallet. He dug out a few twenties and handed them to Ty. “Just in case.”

“Seriously? Don’t forget lunch at Mr. B’s tomorrow. Shannon’s leaving Wednesday.” Their parents owned Mr. B’s, a microbrewery by the marina, and their youngest sister, Shannon, had returned from her job in Colorado for Cole’s wedding.

“I’ll be there.”

Sam made his way through the crowd. At over six feet tall, it was easy for him to scan the sea of people in search of Faith, but his search was made even easier when her lovely laugh danced through the air. Sam followed the melody across the dance floor to a round table where Faith sat with several of the girls from the car wash. The guy she’d danced with was nowhere in sight. Maybe there was a God after all. Her sun-kissed skin shimmered against the dim lighting. Her hair was loose and tousled, flowing sexily over her shoulders, and those glasses...With that outfit she had on, she looked like a playboy model slash scientist, and the combo was smokin’ hot. But it wasn’t the twitch beneath his zipper he was focused on at the moment. It was the urge to get her alone, have her undivided attention, and talk to her again.

What the hell kind of spell was she casting on him?

He couldn’t let her stay in that too-sweet-for-Sam zone. Maybe he should, but not without first proving to her that he wasn’t the guy she thought he was.

“Hey, Sam’s here!” Brittany jumped up from the table and hugged him.

He returned the embrace, wishing Faith had given him the eager greeting instead. “How’s it going, Britt?”

Faith looked up from her conversation. The air between them sizzled and burned, obliterating the sweet zone completely.


**

FAITH CLUTCHED THE edge of the chair, trying to make her brain remember that the stud standing in front of her wasn’t the right man for her. But that smile, that dimple, and those fierce dark eyes were locked on her, bringing her back to the parking lot and the claims he’d made about not being a cheater. She’d said all those harsh things about him. How could she have been so brazen? He was her boss’s brother. What was she thinking?

She’d felt cool and sexy in her outfit when they arrived, but now she tugged at the hem of her slinky little skirt. She was dressed like one of his entourage—would he see her like that? Do I want you to?

Her pulse quickened at the thought. He was making her go all sorts of crazy again.

Vivian leaned over and whispered, “No. Do not get pulled into his hotness.”

Faith tore her eyes away from Sam and looked out at the dance floor. She’d seen the woman he’d danced with. Tall, stacked, gorgeous. Why was he here instead of with her?

“We’re having a great time,” Brittany said.

“We’re having a girls’ night,” Vivian corrected her. “Right, Faith?”

Faith glared at her when she should be thanking her for trying to keep her in line. She loved Vivian to death, but she didn’t need a babysitter. She could handle herself around Sam. Probably.

He strode around the table, openly studying her, pinning her in place with his smoldering dark eyes. She was barely breathing, barely thinking. Maybe she needed a babysitter after all.

He held out a hand. His beautiful, long, strong fingers beckoned her. “I won’t steal you away for too long,” he said confidently, as if she had no choice but to go with him.

She stared at his hand as it came down over hers, sending thrills up each finger.

“Dance with me?”

Silence echoed in her ears. The girls seemed to be holding their breath, too, as he lifted her hand with gentle authority, bringing her up beside him. She struggled to get her synapses to work—not an easy feat with that beautiful creature looking at her like he wanted to devour her. Yes, please.

His arm circled her waist possessively as he guided her to the dance floor with an enticing air of self-confidence. The crowd parted for them, and suddenly they were amid a swarm of couples grinding to the slow beat of the music. Sam’s powerful arms drew her against his hard body. Lord help her, she was right. She felt feminine and protected in his arms.

He gazed at her from what felt like miles above. His dusky eyes glimmered with warmth and passion, making her feel like he’d been waiting all day for this moment. His olive skin was peppered with sexy scruff, and a boyish, and somehow also sensual and manly, smile split his lips.

She should say something. Anything. But she couldn’t figure out how she’d ended up here in his arms. It was unimaginably easy to get swept up in him. Just one dance.

“You look gorgeous.” His voice was deep and intense, like everything else about him.

“Thank you.” She became aware of the feel of his firm, hot waist against her palms. The press of his thighs, the brush of his abs against her breasts. Her nipples tightened, and she pulled back slightly, but his hand splayed on her back, holding her close.

A knowing smile played across his face. “It’s just a dance,” he reassured her, as if he could read her thoughts. “I was surprised to see you here.”

“Not my usual hangout,” she answered truthfully. She had been there a few times, but she usually preferred clubs that felt less like meat markets. She should have known Sam would be there. Why hadn’t she thought of that when they made plans? Probably because last month when they were planning the evening, Sam was in the untouchable, do not think about zone. He was alone in that zone. Filling it up without even trying, and making it impossible for Faith not to think about the damn zone.

“My lucky night.”

His hands pressed more firmly as they danced. His movements were graceful and virile at once. As they found their groove, one hand slid up her back, the other to the base of her spine. He danced like sex liquefied. If this was all she’d allow herself, one dance, a handful of minutes to be in his arms, she was going to enjoy it. She gave herself over to the music, soaking in the feeling of being in Sam’s arms. She wound her arms around his neck, and his eyes darkened even more. His smile turned sinful. She closed her eyes, pretending she wasn’t already damp and dipping her toes into dangerous waters. Resting her cheek against his chest, she listened to the sure and steady beat of his heart, refusing to feel guilty for a few minutes in heaven.

His hand slid beneath her hair to the nape of her neck. Yes, oh yes. That felt luxurious and so, so good.

He leaned down, his warm breath feathering over her ear, as he said, “Talk to me, Faith.”

He said her name the same way he looked at her, like she was important and beautiful, and that made the butterflies in her stomach spring to life again.

“I’m trying to figure out how you coerced me into this dance.”

“You want to be here in my arms.”

Those eyes, she couldn’t escape them. And hell if he wasn’t right.

“Maybe,” she admitted, “but don’t get any ideas. As you said, it’s just one dance.”

“Why are you so against spending time with me?” His brows slanted, giving him a deadly serious look.

“I’m not going to be another notch on your belt, Sam.”

He leaned back and tugged at the waist of his sexy jeans. Holy moly, that was a turn-on, too.

“No belt, Faith.”

A soft laugh slipped out. “You know what I mean.”

“Then don’t become a notch. There’s no reason we can’t dance, or talk, or spend time together.”

Why did he make everything sound so easy? Didn’t he know that just dancing with him was making her insides melt, and because of that she hated herself a little bit?

“Sam.”

He cupped the back of her head. Wow, that felt amazing.

“Faith.”

Melt, melt, melt. There went her panties.

No. She refused to be another swoon-for-Sam-Braden girl. She drew her shoulders back and set what she hoped was a slightly professional gaze on him.

“We are dancing,” she said. “And talking.”

“Go out with me,” he said in the same vein as he’d asked her to dance—it wasn’t a question at all, but a gentle, coaxing demand.

“No, thank you.” Good. That was quick, succinct, and left no room for negotiation.

His brows quirked up in amusement. “You want to go out with me, Faith.”

“No, I don’t.” Oh, what a tangled web of lies we weave to keep our hearts safe.

“You do,” he said easily. “You will.”

His dark eyes held her captive for an interminable span of time before he guided her head possessively back to his chest. She should be angry at his assumption, but he felt so good. She closed her eyes, the devil in her mind mocking her, as she flattened her hands along his shoulders, feeling his strength and noticing his lack of tension. He was calm and relaxed as a summer breeze while she was strung so tight if he let go she might spring off like a tornado.

When the song ended, Sam ran his hand down her arm and laced their fingers together. Without a word he lifted her hand and kissed it. Then he held it to his chest and pulled her against him.

“One more dance,” he whispered against her cheek.

She was playing with fire. How could she do anything but melt?