Wound Up(10)

                “Nope.” She grinned and let the wickedness of her thoughts show. “I have the distinct impression we’ll be spending the evening in.”

                Meg whooped and Lynn laughed. Gretchen, the most levelheaded of the group, sipped her drink and watched Grace over the rim of her glass. “You think this is a good idea? You don’t know him.”

                “I actually sort of do.” They clamored for more information, but she waved them off. “We met in the psychology department. No, I had no idea he danced here. Yes, he’s a fantastic kisser. No, you won’t get more details than that, so don’t ask.” She looked at Gretchen. “Just this once, I want to live a little.”

                Gretchen nodded. “I get that. I do.” She took another sip, her brow furrowing as Grace watched. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you could do worse than living it up with a stripper.”

                The muscles in Grace’s neck tightened and made her nod sharp. “Right.”

                All three women were silent at her words. That they felt sorry for her chafed. Her chin went up. “I’ll check in with you guys tomorrow.”

                Gretchen lifted her glass, the casual gesture at direct odds with the concern reflected in her eyes. “Promise you’ll be careful. Oh, and take my smartphone. Your by-the-minute phone is great if you have time to call for help, but in the event he’s an ax murderer? It’s useless. I’ll turn on the ‘find me’ feature so I can recover your body if necessary.”

                Grace accepted the phone as she stood. “I have no idea where we’ll go, but I’m guessing his place. If the phone takes off at a high rate of speed in the next couple of hours? Come after me.” She glanced at her watch. “Gotta go.”

                She tried to keep her pace casual and controlled as she headed for the front door. In truth, though, she wanted to run. Despite her best efforts, her strides lengthened until she was charging through the club. Several women commented on her passing. Most of the words were benign if a little jealous, but some were downright mean. Grace didn’t slow down. She wasn’t going to allow herself to apologize for wanting sex, for enjoying it and for taking advantage of the moment. Had she been a man, she’d have been admired for the conquest. As a woman, she wasn’t about to apologize for the same. Justin would be her conquest as much as she’d be his.

                Cool air heavy with mist washed over her as she pushed through the club’s front doors. She stopped and slowly turned.

                Staring at the ground in front of him, Justin came around the corner of the building wearing a knee-length trench over jeans and a white T-shirt. His chin came up, and his eyes narrowed.

                She started for him without thinking.

                They came together on the sidewalk, her arms going around his neck at the same time he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was swift but sure.

                “Hi,” he said softly.

                “Hi, yourself.”

                He searched her face.

                Her brows drew together. “Problem?”

                “No. Just...” He shrugged.

                Unease curled through her belly. She stepped a pace away.

                Justin caught her hand. “I feel bad for nearly accosting you.” He raked his fingers through his hair and stared over her shoulder, refusing to meet her gaze. “I want you to know I’m a better man than that.”