Blow (6 page)

That should have worried me. But the shiver that ran down my spine erased any worries. With a slight turn of my head, I responded, “I am, but you don’t even know where you’re taking me. I could be asking you to drive me across town for all you know.”

The crowd had seeped into this room without me even noticing and it was no longer the after-work crowd. This was the Friday night crowd. The space between the booths and the bar acted as a second dance floor. Bodies pressed together. People moved. Sweat dripped down women’s bare backs and men’s necks. The tempo seemed to overtake everyone and lust was in the air.

Did he feel it too?

The pounding pulse of the music had me lost for a moment. I almost considered pressing myself against Logan and wrapping my arms around his neck so we could move together in a sinful manner.

Logan, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share that idea. With his jacket on, he slid beside me and handed me my hat and coat. Bringing me back to the conversation I’d almost forgotten about, his mouth was at my ear. “That’s not true. I know that first we’re going to eat at a much quieter place I know around the corner. After that, I’m happy to take you wherever it is you work that you considered walking to because you had to get there so badly. And later I’m taking you back to your place.”

There was an edge of expectation in his voice that coming from another man might have caused me to walk away, but from him, it seemed harmlessly flirtatious.

“Lead the way,” I said, needing to escape this orgy-filled place that seemed to be affecting my libido in the strangest of ways.

Leading us through the throng of bodies and out the door, he turned and asked, “Do you know what the Irish say about green eyes?”

“That they’re always smiling?” I guessed.

He shook his head. “That they leave an invisible trail of magic surrounding everything they see.”

I laughed sarcastically. Little did he know, nothing could be farther from the truth.

LOGAN

“W
hat’s so funny?”

She averted her gaze. “Nothing.”

Elle wore a sad smile that told me her laughter was anything but genuine. And for some insane reason, that only made me want to fuck the sadness right out of her—right where we stood.

Aside from the demons I could see in her eyes, she was sexy as hell, and even though I knew better than to be captivated by her, I couldn’t help myself. There was just something about her. And knowing she was unattached . . . That didn’t help things in the least.

With a shake of my head, I opened the door. The sky was dark, but at least the rain had let up. I looked around but didn’t see anyone. Even so, I pulled out my knit cap and tugged it over my head.

If someone spotted me with her, we were both fucked.

Paranoid?

Nope.

I knew something wasn’t right as soon as I saw her tire. Someone had slashed it. And there was no way it was a coincidence. Patrick must have already found out about her and I was pretty sure that mechanic’s shop was on his payroll. “This way.” I directed her to the right, veering down the closest alleyway.

Her big green eyes weren’t just looking at me; they were watching me, much in the same way I had been watching her since she first turned around at O’Shea’s office.

“What?” I asked.

“Where are we going?”

“To an authentic Irish pub.”

Elle eyed me suspiciously.

“What?” I found myself asking again.

“You mean that wasn’t one?”

“Ha, once upon it time it was, until Frank let his daughter take over. Molly rented the abandoned space next to the original structure and ever since has been slowly converting the place into a dance club.”

She whipped her head toward me with an excitement in her eyes that I could have eaten up. “I knew it. I could tell the moment I walked in.”

“Yep, it’s obvious, but Frank refuses to give up the pub even if the club is encroaching on his space.”

She was still facing me, and there was another glimmer in her eye.

“What?” I asked yet again, this time raising a brow.

She bit her lip. “Are you even old enough to drink?”

Surprised, I almost choked. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I’m not.” She wasn’t about pretense. It was a welcome change. And it was such a turn-on.

Amused, I asked, “Just how old do you think I am?” I walked ahead and turned to face her. I wanted to see her expression when she answered.

She hesitated a moment before answering, “Not quite twenty-one.”

“Ahhh . . . you’re killing me.”

She smiled. “I’m totally serious.”

I kept walking backwards. “You’re a few years off. I’m twenty-seven.”

Her eyes swept over me again and then narrowed in doubt.

The alleys were empty. No one was around, and I felt myself start to loosen up. No one was going to see us. I put my hand on my heart. “I’m wounded. You don’t believe me?”

With a hint of smile she said, “No, I don’t.”

Now I found myself reaching into my back pocket and pulling out my wallet. Opening it, I handed her my driver’s license. “Here you go—definitive proof.”

She bit her lip as she studied it.

I wanted to bite it for her. I wanted to taste her lips on mine. I wanted to feel her skin and touch her hair. It wasn’t only one thing that attracted me to her; it was everything about her. The way she smelled, the sound of her voice, the way she walked, the way she made me laugh. I shouldn’t be admitting it, not even to myself.

Her grin widened. “Yes. It appears you are older than twenty-one.”

“Phew. Now I can sleep tonight knowing you believe me.”

She tried to contain a giggle with a hand over her mouth.

I stopped and she almost ran into me. “And you?” I countered, leaning inches from her lips.

She handed me my wallet and stepped back. “How old do you think I am?” she teased.

I took my time. I knew we should hurry off the street. I knew I was being stupid. But I didn’t want to rush this moment. I was enjoying it too much. “I don’t know. Come here.”

She easily followed my lead.

I dragged her under the streetlight and let my eyes sweep over her. I didn’t have to, though. I’d already memorized her features. She had a small nose, heart-shaped lips, smooth porcelain skin with a smattering of freckles on her nose, hair the color of cinnamon, and a body that would make any hot-blooded male look twice. I scratched my chin. “Hmmm . . . I’m not sure. My age. Maybe a year or two younger.”

She threw her head back. “Just a few minutes ago you thought I was old and married.”

Practically mesmerized, I watched her carefree style. She wasn’t like most women. Or most of the women I came in contract with—the ones from the New York City upper echelon who prided themselves on packed social calendars and their looks. She seemed tough. Able to take care of herself. She seemed to be a fighter, like me. “First of all, I only thought you were married. You’re the one putting the word
old
with married,” I playfully countered.

She pulled her lip between her teeth in contemplation. “You might be right,” she conceded.

Our eyes locked and I had to lick my lips as she chewed on hers again.

“What did you say?”

She rolled her eyes.

My grin couldn’t be erased even if I tried.

“I turned thirty last December,” she blurted out.

“An older woman.” I winked.

She started walking.

When I took my place beside her, she glanced over at me and nonchalantly joked, “Just call me Mrs. Robinson.”

My cock twitched at the thought of her seducing me—the game of a young college boy and an older experienced woman definitely had my attention. And although I’d already let my intentions for the evening be known, hers weren’t clear and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make sure she was on board with the fact that we were going to fuck. So I raised a brow and told her, “I’d love to.”

Headlights lit up the alleyway and a car started to slow. My guard instantly went back up. My body tensed and my stance changed. The car passed and someone got out. My eyes focused, my hands ready for action, I watched as an older Chinese woman pounded on the back door of a nail salon. False alarm. Still, the moment between us was broken. Awareness took over where I had allowed playfulness to wrongly occupy my mind.

With my hands shoved in my pockets, I put my head down.

What was I doing?

Once the car passed, I looked at her. She hadn’t noticed the car or my reaction. She was still lost in our Mrs. Robinson conversation and her response caught me off guard.

She was blushing.

I hadn’t been expecting that.

And right then, I knew I was in trouble.

ELLE

I
glanced up at the sign above the restaurant—The Hornet’s Nest.

How appropriate. I shouldn’t have agreed to have dinner with Logan. After all, he was the son of the man Michael had just told me to stay away from.

Yet I couldn’t fight the sexual tension between Logan and me. I’d never felt anything like it. And I wanted to give in.

But I knew better. Life had taught me that lesson long ago.

Don’t get too close or you will get burned.

The restaurant was tucked away down an alley just around the corner from Molly’s. It was out of the way and off the beaten path. I was thankful. There would be little chance of running into anyone who knew Michael. I hadn’t decided what I’d tell him, if anything.

Logan pulled open the door and as I walked past him, I could feel my cheeks still blazing. I had no idea what my schoolgirl reaction was all about, but it had to come to an immediate end. I intended to put my mind to it. But that wasn’t what happened. Instead, I stumbled to a stop when his hand grazed my back.

Thank God he was reading a list of tonight’s specials and hadn’t noticed. With nonchalance, he stood beside me. Luckily, I quickly regained my composure as I observed the restaurant. Polished wood paneling and brass fixtures made the place appear slightly less bar-like. Whereas Molly’s pub side looked like a hole-in-the-wall brewery, this place looked like an authentic American-style Irish pub.

“Shall we?” Logan motioned toward a booth in the back corner. He stripped off his jacket as I slipped out of my raincoat, and he tossed them both on the red leather bench. My gaze lingered over him and my pulse raced as we sat across from each other. The leather seat might have been worn, but I melted into it without a problem.

My nerves had my palms seeking the cool, smooth surface of the table separating us. My focus flicked away from Logan and landed on the menus that sat against the wall. Logan’s gaze followed mine and he handed me one before I could reach for it. “It’s nothing fancy but they have the best burgers around, if you like burgers.”

I opened my menu. “Cheeseburgers happen to be one of my favorite foods.”

He looked pleased.

Just as I started perusing the menu, the waitress approached. “What can I get you to drink?”

Still feeling the effects of the shot, I decided against alcohol. “A Coke, please.”

“The same,” Logan said. “And I think we’ll both have the special cheeseburger and fry basket.”

The waitress looked at me. “How’d you like your meat cooked?”

“Medium.”

She looked at Logan. “The same,” he answered.

She walked away and I glanced at him. “You’re at an Irish pub and you don’t order beer with your burger?”

Amused, his chin was down but his eyes lifted to mine. “No.”

“Isn’t that part of the whole Irish experience?”

“You know, I never thought of it that way, but I guess a Guinness does typically accompany a burger in a joint like this.”

I dropped the subject. He didn’t drink. It was obvious—he hadn’t touched that second shot of Jameson’s at Molly’s. And I had a feeling there was more to it than he wanted to let on.

My thoughts started to wander.

He was a lot like Charlie.

Practical in his thinking.

Short and to the point.

Serious but also funny.

Charming.

However, there was that one difference: looking at him made me breathless. This strange sexual chemistry that existed between us hadn’t been there with Charlie and me.