Vanilla On Top(60)

Message received. He should leave Heather alone the rest of the night.

I signal for a waitress and order water. She nods and scurries off. The location I picked offers a terrific view of Heather and her friends, allowing me to spot any troublemakers before they approach. Apparently the glower I have on my face is enough to do the trick because the women are left to dance in peace for quite a while.

Eventually Marcus makes his way to me. Rat bastard. I’d hoped he left. He silently saddles up to my left and checks out the dancers on the packed floor.

My water arrives and the waitress perks up when I hand her a ten-dollar tip for the free water.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” she asks Marcus.

“Jack on the rocks.”

I raise an eyebrow at his choice of drink. The waitress leaves. “Going for the hard stuff?”

“I’m trying to shock my system into figuring out what the fuck is going on.”

I stiffen, not sure I want this conversation to continue. I don’t respond, hoping he’ll let my actions on the dance floor lie.

“You really like this one, don’t you?”

Dammit. I knew the arrogant prick couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Tension tightens my jaw and I bite out my next words. “What of it?”

“If you hadn’t been removed from the buyout I’d have recommended you recuse yourself. If you’re seriously involved with her, it’s a major conflict of interest.”

I should have known. Always comes back to the almighty dollar with him, no matter how you cut it.

A new man approaches Heather. Smooth Latin looks and gyrating hips that make him look like he’s a professional dancer. My stomach clenches and I take a gulp of water to calm it.

Bad idea. I feel like yakking it back up. I set the glass aside.

Marcus waves a hand in front of my face, temporarily breaking the death ray I was shooting at the Latin guy.

I look at my colleague, annoyance coloring my face. “There’s more to life than work, man. Leave me alone.”

The Latin guy gravitates between Heather and Katrina and tension eases out of my gut.

“Holy shit! Do you hear yourself? You’re ready to mess up the career you’ve built over a piece of ass?”

Red clouds my vision and my fists clench at my sides. “One deal is not my whole career, and Heather is not a piece of ass. You call her that again and I’ll put my fist through your pretty dental work.”

“Look at yourself! You’re ready to rip apart any man who approaches her. She’s dancing in a nightclub, for Christ’s sake. Men are going to want to dance with her.”

Logically, I know he’s right. And I thought I had it covered, but when Heather breaks from her friends and weaves through the crowd, away from me, panic forms in my chest. By the looks of it, she’s heading to the bathroom, but the number of male heads that turn to watch her progression has me fearing for her safety.

Without a word to Marcus, I leave, angling around the dance floor to intercept her. My progress is hindered by a large group clustered around a table, forcing me to detour deeper into the bar to make my way around. By the time I get to the hallway leading to the restrooms, she’s gone.

I notice the Latin guy standing near a band poster, pretending to be absorbed in reading it. Asshole. What am I, stupid? I bet he’s waiting to talk to her when she emerges.

Not to be outdone by some smooth talking barfly, I advance down the hall and wait for her outside the ladies room. I’m perfectly aware my behavior is abnormal for me. I’m not going to stand here like some girly chick and analyze it. I’m accepting that I want to haul Heather out of here by her hair, and do my best to resist it.

In a few minutes she pulls open the door and steps into the hall. “Tony?”

Without thinking, I grab her and pin her to the wall, covering her smaller frame with my broader one. Softly I run a hand down her arm to twine my fingers with hers. I press forward with my hips and a small gasp escapes her.

“Do you have any idea what watching you dance is doing to me?”

She shakes her head slightly and stares into my eyes. I lean in and capture her mouth, branding her with my heat through our lips. My erection springs back to full mast and I hear a roaring in my ears as the blood pumps to my groin.

I pour my pent up frustrations into the kiss, silently pleading with her to understand how twisted up inside I feel. My left hand slides through her hair and fists, releasing some of the passion coiling in my muscles with action. The tug on her skull surprises her and her mouth opens to comment. Whatever she was about to say is locked inside as I tug harder, lifting her chin.

The exposed flesh of her neck calls to me and I assault the dewy skin with a shower of kisses, growing firmer and longer with each one as I progress.