Music pounds through the hidden speakers, the bass reverberating up through the floor into my bones. The lighting isn’t bright or dim, but more of a twilight. I like it compared to the normal darkness of some dance clubs. A group of men at the center bar immediately check out the four of us when we saunter in. Katrina and Gemma are two of Carla’s yoga buddies, and both have exquisite bodies.
“You’re drawing every eye our way, Heather.” Katrina says with a nudge of her hip. “Way to go, girlfriend.”
Their comments boost my confidence even more. I’m enjoying feeling sexy and strong, glad I opted for the red heels and short jacket. Maybe if I were with Tony I’d feel different. I bet he would go crazy for the boots and leather pants. Picturing his heat-filled gaze and the accompanying bulge in his pants draws a flush to my face.
I’m desperate for this whole stressful work situation to be over. I’m so scared of how things will turn out. Why should I have to choose between him and my job? It’s not fair.
Katrina catches my eye, nodding toward the bar. “Let’s get a drink,” she yells over the music.
A group of men parts at our approach, giving us a narrow pathway to the bar. Appraising looks and welcoming smiles rain down upon our small group. One opens his mouth to speak and Carla shushes him with a wave of her hand. “We’re here for a ladies night out.” The wine we drank at my house makes her bolder than usual. “You’re cute, but we came to dance. Not pick up men.”
The man good-naturedly tilts his head and leaves us be, the interest in his eyes saying he’ll try again later. We get our drinks and slowly make our way to the dance floor. It’s barely past ten and the dance area stands mostly empty.
Gemma shouts in Carla’s direction, “Are you sure you want to do this? We could wait a little bit ‘til the place fills up.”
“We’re not here for them, ladies. We’re here for ourselves.” She downs her drink and places it on a nearby table. “Let’s dance!”
My face stretches into a huge smile at her silliness. This night is totally what I need.
After fifteen minutes on the dance floor, a hand touches my waist from behind. I glance back to see the man from the bar Carla shushed. His eyebrows rise in question, asking for a dance. I smile and nod, content to share a song with a stranger.
He’s not as good-looking as Tony, but that’s okay. His hands linger on my waist and his eyes promise more if I’m interested. I smile, pleased with his offer, but shake my head. I don’t plan on taking him home, just dancing for a little while.
I consider teasing him by dancing close, but I refrain. He doesn’t deserve me toying with him. Sweat trickles down my back under the jacket and my face flushes from the exertion. I’d like to take my coat off, but I don’t want to invite more attention than I can handle.
Who knew a night out with friends could be so uplifting? The handsome man dancing with me whirls me by the hand and then pulls me in close.
The power feels good. Very, very good.
Chapter Sixteen
Tony
“You’ve been a fucking bear all day,” Marcus grumps at me. “What’s your problem?”
I ignore my well-meaning but obnoxious friend. I can’t very well tell him that even though I made love to Heather this morning, I’m in a foul mood because I can’t see her again until tomorrow. At least she agreed not to work on Saturday and come to Jersey with me. I’ll have to be content with that.
Unwilling to give up, Marcus plunges on. “Are you pissed about Brian and the Parkerson deal still?”
“Still?” I say, incredulous. “I was only reassigned yesterday. Am I supposed to roll over and take it?”
Marcus grins, pleased to get a rise out of me. “No, only a whiny bitch rolls over and takes it.”
“Well, then. We’ve established I’m not a whiny bitch. Anything else or can I get a drink in peace?”
We worked ‘til seven tonight and then caught a quick dinner at a sushi place. The food was great but the atmosphere wasn’t conducive to hanging out and drinking all night, which is what I feel like doing. Maybe I can drown out the feeling of unease coiling in my gut. If this is what being in love feels like I think I definitely dislike it.
“Let’s head over to The Parlor,” Marcus suggests. “It’s only two blocks down. I heard there’s a special event later on. We’ve got almost two hours before the DJ comes on and the place turns into a club.”
My silence is my agreement and we make our way to the bar. I don’t think I’ve been this depressed on a Friday night in years. What is it that’s truly eating at me? I know it can’t be work. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to the place that this latest knife in the back barely hurts.