Strong Enough(31)
Taking the keys from the ignition, I get out, touch the handle to lock the doors and head for the front of the club. A big, ’roided-out giant greets me when I poke my head through the door. His smile is warm in a gentle way, making me think that it’s mainly his size that’s intimidating. I return his smile and step up to him.
“I’m waiting for a friend, but I really need directions to your ladies’ room.”
He winks at me and nods to the back corner of the club. There are lighted red male and female signs on the wall. I thank him and start off in that direction.
A dance floor full of people stands between me and the oasis for my bladder, so I take a minute to determine the best route and the path of least resistance, which appears to be skirting the crowd by way of the bar to my left.
Just as I’m deciding on my course, a deep, attractively accented voice sounds from very near my right ear. “Something I can help you find, miss?”
I clutch my racing heart. I didn’t even know someone was standing behind me. I whirl to find a tall, incredibly handsome man looming over me. “Oh God! You scared the bejesus out of me!”
“That wasn’t my intention, but I’m glad I did. Damn me, but you’re beautiful!” he says with a rakish grin that has probably wrestled thousands of uteruses into submission. Mine is aware, but not as affected as most, I’m sure. My female body parts are securely under the influence of a drug called Jasper. “Please say you’re here to see me.”
“Who’s ‘me’?”
“Gavin Gibson. At your service.”
“Sorry, Gavin, but I’m just here to avail myself of your . . . facilities.”
In the landscape of his tanned face and beneath his crop of short black hair, his eyes are startlingly blue. They twinkle with mischief and pure masculine confidence. And charm. Loads of charm. “Can I pick the facility?”
On any other man, suggestive lines like these might seem cheesy, but not this guy. They just seem flirtatious, genuine and highly complimentary.
“Afraid not, but I appreciate your willingness to accommodate me.”
“I’d be willing to accommodate you in any way you could dream up in that pretty little head of yours.”
The Australian lilt to his words gives them an innocence that precludes that sleazy vibe most Americans would emanate at this point. I can’t help smiling back at his unflappable determination.
“As much as I—”
My words are interrupted by a heavy-cream voice and a tingle of recognition.
“Do you mind?”
Gavin’s merry blue eyes flit to a position just above my head. They would tell me Jasper’s position if I didn’t already know, if I couldn’t already feel him with every dancing red blood cell. I don’t know how he does this to me—makes me forget everything except for him, makes me feel nothing except for him—but he does it. Consistently. Effortlessly. Thoughtlessly.
He’s so close at my back that I can feel his body heat. For a second, I feel like closing my eyes and sinking into it. Into him. He’s like a talented hypnotist who has somehow managed to invade my every thought, my every emotion, my every jangling nerve.
“Jason!” the man in front of me exclaims happily.
Jasper leans into me, his chest brushing my back as his long arm shoots out from behind my shoulder to accept the handshake of the Aussie. When they finish, Jasper withdraws his arm, but I feel his other hand come to rest at the curve of my waist, the fingers tensing, urging me to step back.
I don’t resist. The action brings me against his side, our bodies in full contact from shoulder to thigh. My skin tingles with awareness and I fight the desire to lean farther into him, to be absorbed.
Jasper doesn’t glance down at me, but he doesn’t have to for me to see the dark and dangerous expression on his face. The normally blank mask that rests over his features like a veil is gone, revealing a fierceness that takes me aback. It’s as though he’s mentally ripping the other man to shreds.
What the hell?
“Gavin,” Jasper responds quietly, his low voice filling the space with an intimidating rumble.
Gavin’s eyes flicker to me and back up to Jasper. One black brow rises and he asks simply, “Yours?”
I feel Jasper stiffen against me before he replies. “Certainly not yours.”
His fingers flex against my side again, like a reactive twitch, and I wonder to myself if this could possibly be about me.
The mere suggestion warms me like hot chocolate—from the inside out. It’s not an overtly possessive gesture, but for someone as cool and aloof as Jasper, it’s enough to melt my heart and curl by toes. I glance at his face once more and when he quickly flicks his gaze to me, I see that my suspicion is correct. He looks ready to kill.