Forcing her mind back to the task at hand, learning about his club, she leaned toward Dillon, to be heard over the din. “Why is it you’re always right here?”
Without a word, he spun her stool around then leaned down beside her ear. “What do you see?”
Ignoring the tingles of awareness shooting down her spine, she turned her head, taking in the whole place bit by bit. “Actually, I can see the entire club from here.”
“Exactly. I like to keep my eyes open. Trouble happens fast.”
A small, giggling foursome of girls barely old enough to drink sidled up to the bar then. One of them turned her head, giving Dillon a saucy smile, and leaned on the countertop.
“Ladies.” He greeted them with a smile.
The girl giggled and nudged her friend, who turned to look him over. The entire exchange made Emma wish the ground would open up beneath her. What on earth did she think she was doing here?
When the girls wandered away a few minutes later, drinks in hand, Emma turned to Dillon. “I’m cramping your style, aren’t I?”
He frowned. “Why would you think that?”
Her cheeks heating, she turned her gaze out in front of her, idly watching one of the waitresses carry a tray loaded with drinks to a table on the far side of the room. “Every time I come in here, I find you surrounded by a throng of adoring fans. Tonight, so far, you’re not. You could just give me the password to your computer, you know.”
“You’re here because I want you to get a feel for the place. I want you to see it like I see it. Maybe you’ll notice something I’ve missed. I told you, I think you could be really good for this place.” He turned his gaze out in front of him and lowered his voice. “I do that on purpose, you know.”
“Do what?”
He turned and looked her square in the eye. “Flirt.”
She shook her head. “You don’t owe me any explanations.” She didn’t want to hear them either.
Dillon ignored her statement and leaned close, his gaze reaching and intense. “Happy customers stay longer and spend more money.” He straightened and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
She took in the quick, gyrating beat of the music and vehemently shook her head. “I can’t dance.”
She couldn’t find a groove if someone handed it to her. She certainly wouldn’t be doing it in public, not to mention being any closer to him would be tempting fate.
Not taking no for an answer, Dillon grabbed her hands and pulled her off the stool. “You need to relax a little. Learn to enjoy the atmosphere. Come on.”
He tugged her behind him to the edge of the already crowded dance floor. The bodies surged around her, bumping and grinding.
Meeting his gaze, she shook her head, her heart in her throat. She really did have two left feet. Already, she felt out of place. She didn’t want to make a fool out of herself in public, let alone in front of him.
Moving to stand behind her, Dillon leaned his head down beside her ear. “Close your eyes. Let the beat take you.”
Doing what he instructed, Emma closed her eyes. At first, he placed his hands on her hips and guided her steps. Eventually, her feet moved of their own accord, and she found a comfortable rhythm. Dillon released her and she opened her eyes. He moved around in front of her, grinning. He took her hands, twirling with her. They were silly moves that made her feel goofy, but they relaxed her all the same. It wasn’t long until she fell with ease into the beat of the music. She actually enjoyed herself.
Okay, so maybe she could see what he and Janey saw in these places.
When the song ended and another began, the quick upbeat rhythm changed to something slower, softer, and the memory flooded her mind of the last time they danced. Of being in his arms, her head pressed against his chest, his body swaying against her to the sensual rhythm. The need that flowed between them.
The kiss that followed.
Emma froze. The cheerful feeling of the moment faded. The pain slipped up to wrap around her chest. She couldn’t stop remembering his words when he ended their relationship, if she could even call it that. Couldn’t stop seeing the look on his face that day. The regret and longing in his eyes now didn’t help matters any.
Without a word, she turned and pushed through the crowd, not stopping until she reached the office. Only once the door slid closed behind her and the silence wrapped around her did she realize he hadn’t followed.
Moving to stand at the window, gazing out at the club below, she discovered why. She easily spotted his tall, broad form from this distance, in his usual spot by the bar. He had a companion now. A tall blonde she recognized. Leila Michaels. His ex. The waitresses, Rhonda and Amy, had told her Leila had been in the club every night this week, fawning over him.