Chapter 10 #3
“Don’t be so shocked. I know people. It’s my job.
” She refilled his drink, positioned her forearms flat on the bar top, and leaned closer to him.
“She’s not over you, and based on that uptight look you’ve got, you’re not over her, either.
” She straightened again and tossed a towel over her shoulder before moving her attention to a few people who’d sidled up to the bar at the other end.
How the hell did a stranger get a read on him?
He left her a generous tip, then stood and turned to see Harper on the dance floor, surrounded by four other women.
The men in suits with Jackson watched them from a few feet away while they sipped their drinks and talked.
Finn was standing near the group of men, and he looked as uncomfortable as all hell. From the looks of it, he needed saving.
Roman snatched his drink from the bar and made his way past the dance floor, doing his best not to make eye contact with Harper as she raced her hands through her hair and moved her hips to the music.
She was on the outskirts of the throng of people on the dance floor, which was a blessing and a curse being able to see her.
“I think I’ve forgotten the art of picking up a woman,” Finn said into his ear once they were standing side by side.
Roman stifled a laugh. “Sure you have.”
The man was always trying to give Roman pro-tips, assuming Roman had no damn clue how to talk to a woman. That wasn’t true. He just didn’t want to talk to anyone other than Harper.
“Just say you’re a Teamguy. That’ll work,” Roman said in an even-tempered voice.
“Ah, is that humor I’m hearing?” Finn slapped his back. “And not that I would, but I get the feeling these women will be a hell of a lot more impressed with wallet size than my kill count,” he said. “Plus, you know I’d never use my trident to get laid.”
“Don’t you teach women self-defense at that karate studio every week now? Well, when we’re home? Any of them—”
“Most of those women are there to protect themselves from assholes, not to have one hit on them,” Finn was quick to shut down his idea.
“Well, you’re not an asshole,” he said as he observed Harper waving away some guy.
Was she doing that because she knew Roman had eyes on her? Damn it. He didn’t want some asshole grinding against her, but—
“You really are a lousy wingman tonight,” Finn interrupted his thoughts.
“Out of practice,” he murmured, distracted by Harper heading their way when the music changed beats to something more recognizable to him.
She was slightly out of breath and smiling, her dimples appearing.
A gorgeous sight. “Dance with me.” Harper reached for Finn’s forearm, but Finn shook his head and pulled free of her grasp, then peered back and forth between her and Roman with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face.
“Uh, I like my balls. Prefer to keep them intact.”
“Say what?” Harper chuckled.
“I don’t want to die,” Finn further elaborated.
Well, hell, Roman was going to knock him out anyway the next time they trained.
Harper set her sights on her next target. She wouldn’t seriously ask Roman, would she? She’d be out of her damn mind.
But those seductive eyes remained on him as she said, “I love this song. Jason Derulo, Love Not War.” Her smile rematerialized. “Should be our motto, right? Make love. Not war.”
Finn had just taken a sip of his drink and began to pound his chest like it had gone down the wrong pipe.
“I didn’t mean you and me, um, make love,” Harper clarified, eyes wide and focused on Roman.
“I’m gonna get a drink at the bar,” Finn quickly remarked.
“You already have a drink,” Roman reminded him, his arms going tight at his sides.
Finn looked at his glass and tossed back the rest. “A new one.”
“So, I take it you don’t want to dance with me?” she asked once Finn was out of earshot and they were alone. Well, as alone as you’d expect in a club.
“Not a good idea. And not what you want,” Roman said in a clipped tone.
“Maybe I do want you to dance with me.”
“That’s the alcohol talking.”
“I’ve had less than one drink.” She peered back to the dance floor. “Friends dance. They’re friends,” she said, motioning to her brother with a leggy brunette in his arms.
Yeah, friends with benefits.
“We danced in Montreal in February.”
“That was for work.” And that’d been a challenge to hold her in his arms without allowing it to lead to more. “Ask Finn again.”
“He doesn’t want you to kill him, remember?”
Roman let go of a gruff breath. “Dancing with me defeats what we’re trying to do.” He was now hanging by a thread.
“I’m not going to dance with a stranger. Not with you here, and you know it. So, I think you owe me.”
Unable to stop himself, he reached for her wrist and gently pulled her closer, then he lowered his mouth to her ear.
“You and I both know what will be on my mind if you’re in my arms.” Shit, not what he should have admitted to her in a hot club with her looking ridiculously sexy in that dress.
Definitely shouldn’t have led with the truth because her chin lifted, and she pointed those big, brown eyes on him.
A tease to his senses. Torment to his body.
“Please, stop testing me,” he rasped. “My self-control has its limits.”
He caught a visible swallow as she slid a hand slowly up his chest and placed it over his heart.
They were in a public place, exposed to curious eyes. And it’d be clear to anyone with a pulse he and Harper weren’t just friends. Right now, no amount of effort at pretending they were would help.
“You should find someone who can dance with you. And I’ll leave so I don’t kill the guy.”
He released her wrist and glanced over at Finn talking to a pretty redhead, who was laughing at something he was saying.
Finn didn’t need a wingman after all. And Roman was better off reading a book than running interference on any man trying to get Harper’s attention.
Prison right now would put a dent in his plans.
“Tell your brother goodnight for me,” he said with a strained voice. “And be careful, okay?”
She pulled her hand from his chest as he stepped back, and then he turned and started for the exit, knowing if he didn’t force himself to walk away, he’d never be able to do it.
Once inside the elevator, he forcefully stabbed the L button for the lobby, but as the doors began to close, a slender arm shot out between them.
Harper stood breathless on the other side. “Floor eighteen. Can you press it for me?” She kept her eyes locked on his and stepped inside the space with mirrored walls.
He did as he was told, and he waited for the doors to shut before turning his back to her and setting a palm to the wall. But it was a mirror, so there was no getting away from the sight of her. “You should go back to the club.”
“I’m tired.” Her eyes caught his in the mirrored reflection, and he couldn’t find it in him to look away. “Can you walk me to my room? You never know who might be roaming the halls at midnight.”
“What do you want from me, Harper?” he growled out in a low hiss and whirled around to face her. “You have half a dozen reasons why we can’t be together. And I have mine.”
“I know,” she said with a slight nod, but she took one step closer.
“And you said you want to move on.”
“I know,” she repeated and officially closed the space between them, her hands going to his chest again, and they stared at each other as if caught in some type of spell, both missing the sound of the doors opening.
It took a heavy throat clear from the man stepping into the elevator for them to look away from each other.
Roman motioned for her to exit, and against his better judgment, he asked, “Which way?”