Chapter 2
2
"Hello… Hank." Jo’s slow smile held just a hint of mischief. After the little performance she’d put on to get rid of the idiot who had hit on her, he had a feeling mischief might be her middle name. That, or dangerous. Or maybe both.
"And what is it you need to say?" she asked, holding his stare as she sat up straight.
It had been a while since a woman had piqued Hank’s interest. And maybe he had piqued hers as well. Her hazel eyes sparkling with humor and intelligence—and maybe too much tequila from the looks of the shot glasses, salt, and spent limes in front of her—gave him a once-over that had one part of him stirring and wanting to stand at attention.
Had he mentioned his interest had already been piqued? And that was before getting his first good, full-on look at her. No wonder the other guy had tried his luck—albeit in the worst possible way. But who could blame him? What man wouldn’t want to get up close and personal with what promised to be a firecracker in a tiny package?
But there was more.
Everything about her appealed to him. From all those short, blond curls framing her creamy, delicate features he’d love to tangle his fingers in, to a body his hands wanted to…
Down, boy .
Getting a chubby was not going to give him an advantage with her. She’d already dealt with one creep. He didn’t want her putting him in the same category.
Was she older than him? Sure, maybe by nine or ten years. Did he care? Absolutely not.
The thing was, now that he had her attention, what was he going to say? It had to be something profound that would give her a better opinion of others of the male species, but himself in particular.
So, what did he come up with?
"Would you like to dance?" Her dark-blond brows rose, while he managed to keep from grimacing. That was not what he had intended to say, which had been something profound that would give her a better opinion of the male species. But now that it was out there, that’s exactly what he’d needed to say.
Maybe just not so soon.
But having her in his arms—having her pressed against him—had just become his top priority.
Her glance went over her shoulder toward her friends who gave her varying reactions—a shrug from the blond, a slight grimace from the dark-haired one she’d called Mags, and a salute with her glass from the redhead.
"Okay, Hank ," Jo said, as her focus returned to him, her smile promising more than she probably realized or intended. "Let’s dance."
Definitely dangerous.
Lucky for Hank the band had just started a ballad—a nice, slow one—as he stood, then carefully pulled her from her stool. And damn if she didn’t stumble slightly before he took both hands to steady her. He and tequila had a passing acquaintance, but at the moment it wasn’t his friend.
"Jo?"
Mags left her stool and came up beside Jo and put an arm around her shoulder.
"Are you okay to…" Jo’s friend gave Hank a critical eye up and down, one mixed with a little suspicion.
"I’m good," Jo said, giving the other woman a smile. "Just got up too fast."
"Mags, isn’t it?"
"Magdalena," she corrected him, her narrowed gaze boring into his.
"Magdalena." Okay, a protective friend. Duly noted. "You can trust me with your friend." He’d said that with as much sincerity as he could muster.
"I’m right here, you know," Jo groused.
"And so are we." Magdalena’s assurance wasn’t for Jo. It was directed straight at him. "Do something and you’ll have us to deal with," she said indicating the other two women with a quick flick of her head, though her eyes never left his.
"Good grief," Jo mumbled, pulling his attention from Magdalena to the woman he needed to get to know better, and who was currently rolling her eyes. Then he glanced behind Magdalena to Jo’s other friends.
Kinda scary.
For a group of women he’d thought were pretty easy going, they’d managed to convey a sufficiently convincing air a menace. If he didn’t treat Jo right, he might find himself in danger of some of that nut damage the blond had been talking about.
"I promise."
After a few more seconds of silent perusal, Magdalena finally inclined her head. "Okay, then."
"Gee, thanks, mom," Jo said, grimacing. "Can I go out and play now?"
A slow grin spread over Magdalena’s face before she gave her friend a full-on smile and side-hug. "Okay, just be sure to be in by dark."
"Yes, ma’am," she said, laughing and shaking her head, as he kept hold of one hand and led her to the dance floor. "Sorry about that."
"It’s okay. They love you." And he couldn’t blame them. Wait. Where was that coming from? The idea was enough to make his steps falter. He did not believe in love at first sight. Instant attraction? Sure. Lust? Most definitely.
"Yeah," she said, squeezing his hand. "But I’m a big girl."
"I noticed," he said, turning and pulling her toward him and into his arms—her head settling on his chest and hands locking around his neck. "And I have a feeling you can hold your own."
"I can."
Then there were no words. Just the two of them moving to the music, while Hank nuzzled his nose into her sweet-smelling curls. He breathed her in—deeply—letting it out on a sigh when her body molded perfectly to his. Just like she had been made for him.
Like she was his to keep.
I’ve got to get my thoughts under control.
"So, Hank," she murmured. "I don’t remember seeing you here before."
"I’ve been here a few times since moving to town." And he had. But if Jo had been here, he hadn’t seen her. If he had, he wouldn’t have forgotten. "Maybe I’m not that memorable."
"Oh, believe me, you’re memorable."
A rush of pleasure filled him at that little confession. He might as well return the favor.
"So are you."
"Hmm… Good to know."
She settled more into his hold as the song continued and the other dancers crowded in around them. It was nice. So nice, his arms wrapped more firmly around her slim waist.
"All right folks," the lead singer said from the stage, as the band picked up the tempo and transitioned into a different song. "Get ready for 'Mustang Sally.' You know you love it."
And the crowd did love it, everyone shouting out, "Ride, Sally, ride," when the time came. Everyone but Hank and Jo. No, they hadn’t changed anything about their dance.
Still slow.
Still wrapped up in each other.
Still silent.
That was until a quiet laugh left her when the next up-tempo song started.
"What?" He leaned his head back and eyed the top of her head.
"I saw this in a movie once." Jo’s head tilted up.
"Saw what?"
Her brow crinkled. Without thought, he pulled one hand from around her waist to reach up and smooth his thumb over the slight furrow, before cupping her cheek.
"A couple dancing close like we are, even when everyone else around was not dancing the way we are."
He glanced around to the crowd moving around the floor with spins and various gyrations, then met her languorous eyes as she continued with, "Honestly, I thought it was ridiculous."
"You still think it’s ridiculous?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to her mouth.
"No," she whispered, lifting her face as he lowered his head, while his fingers did what they’d been itching to do and speared through her curls. "I don’t."
"I don’t either," he groaned.
Then his lips were on hers, drinking her in, swallowing her moan filling his mouth. Her hands at his neck tightened, almost pulling on him. What else could he do but take his hand still at her back and anchor it onto her firm, jeans-clad ass and haul her closer. So close she had to feel what she was doing to him.
At this point, they weren’t even moving, as the kiss went on—tongues tangling, mouths eating at each other—regardless of the comments from the other dancers. None of them mattered to him, except maybe for the ones telling them to get a room. That one he was on board with. Not that he planned to take her to some no-name hotel.
Hank wasn’t one to pick up some woman in a bar—or anywhere else for that matter—for a one-night stand. Never had. Never would. So, he wasn’t about to start now.
Besides, Jo wasn’t just some woman.
"Mmm…" Jo pulled her mouth away and licked her lips, leaving them both panting. "I don’t normally do this kind of thing. Ask Mags. But?—"
"I don’t either."
"That’s good to know too." Her grin up at him with kiss-swollen lips and flushed cheeks gave him more satisfaction than it probably should have.
I did that.
The hell of it was, he had no idea why that meant so much to him. They’d only just met, had only been in each other’s arms for a handful of minutes. It made no sense. What did make sense was that whatever happened on this night would only be the first of many. At least if he had his way about it.
Now to figure out how to make that happen.