Chapter Two
Remy
I glance around the rose-filled room and know the décor is courtesy of Zach’s mom, Serenity. All Hadley and Zach cared about was getting married and starting their lives together. I like Hadley for my friend. She’s as down-to-earth as a person can be. Sort of like Raven.
My gaze drifts to the woman who’s never far from my thoughts. She’s standing with one of the bar waitresses and they’re talking as they sip their drinks.
I think she’s gorgeous with a full face of makeup and casual clothes, but I wasn’t prepared for the siren who showed up tonight. The turquoise dress accentuates her green eyes and drapes her body, the low dip at her cleavage revealing what her T-shirts only hint at.
I itch to unwind her hair now pulled into an updo.
Then thread my fingers through the soft strands, wrap them around my hand, and pull hard as I enter her from behind.
Imagining the moans coming from deep in her throat, I think about flipping her over so I can look into those teal-colored eyes and watch her face as she comes.
She’s so fucking hot but more than that, she has a good heart. How do I know? I’ve seen her take a sandwich in hand each night and walk it out to the homeless man who all but owns the corner nearby. From the time I bought into Zach’s two businesses and met Raven, I’ve been hooked.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Asher asks.
Caught, I force my gaze away from Raven and glance at Zach’s brother. “Not a word.”
Asher shakes his head and laughs. “Nothing I can say, considering I’ve been in your shoes.” He looks around the room, finally locking his gaze on his young wife, Nikki. “Hell, I still am,” he admits.
Asher and Nikki’s story is unusual. He took his now wife to his Bahamas retreat as a favor to his best friend as a means of getting her away from a nude photo scandal.
Since Nikki was much younger, not to mention his friend’s little sister, Asher tried to keep his hands off.
Needless to say, he didn’t. It took a while, but they’re now a solid couple.
My gaze comes to rest on Raven again, watching her toy with a strand of hair dangling around her face.
“Oh, hell. Go for it already,” Asher mutters on a low chuckle.
With a shrug, I decide my friend has a point. It’s time. My stare still locked with Raven’s, I make my way across the room and join the two women standing by a high table.
“Hello, ladies,” I say, my focus never wavering.
“Hi, boss,” Stevie replies.
I glance her way and smile. “I think you can call me Remy when we’re not at work.”
She laughs. “Remy,” she parrots. “Since you’re here, can you keep Raven company while I go to the ladies’ room?”
I turn to see Raven glare at her friend and stifle a laugh. “Go ahead, Stevie. I’d be more than happy to take care of her.”
Stevie’s devilish grin tells me she’s playing matchmaker. I’m so grateful I might even give her a raise.
I wait for the other woman to walk off before stepping closer to my prey. “You look beautiful tonight,” I say to Raven.
Edible, but telling her that would be beyond inappropriate. Not that I care much for proprieties but I don’t want to scare her off.
“Thank you.” Her eyes do a sweep of my body, ending with her gaze meeting mine. “You’re looking dashing yourself.”
I grin, pleased she isn’t shy or backing away. “Thank you.” I take a sip of my drink and place it on the table.
“I see the men have a signature drink as well. What’s in yours?” she asks.
“Whiskey smash. It’s whiskey with mint and powdered sugar sprinkled on top. Jury’s still out. I prefer my liquor neat. What’s yours called?” I point to the two glasses that are hers and Stevie’s.
“Peppermint white Russian.” Picking up a glass, she takes a long taste and lets out a groan of delight. One that has my cock perking up in my tuxedo pants. “Delicious.”
“Mmm. I’d like a taste,” I say, staring at her mouth because I want to sample the liqueur directly from her lips.
Her eyes grow heavy at my implication. “Here.” She offers me her glass instead.
Since it’s the next best thing and her lips have already been on the rim, I accept the drink and lift it to my mouth.
With our stares still connected, I drink.
The thick, coffee liqueur mixed with vodka—Dirty Dare Vodka, no doubt—is sweet.
“I agree. It’s delicious.” I place the glass back on the table.
The lights began to flash, indicating we’re ready to move on to the ballroom part of the night.
“Time to take our seats. I’ll see you later,” Raven says, the relief in her voice palpable. She starts to walk away but I’m onto her.
I catch up and hook my arm in hers as we step toward the ballroom along with the rest of the guests.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Escorting you to our table.” I guide her around the slower people who’ve stopped to talk. “You’re at table two and so am I.”
She trips and I steady her, keeping her close. “Aren’t you sitting with the wedding party?” she asks.
“Nope.”
I feel her stare and turn to wink at her before continuing to guide us to our destination. I asked Hadley to put us at the same table.
“Don’t worry. Stevie’s sitting with us, too.” It’s natural that she and Stevie, and anyone else from work, will be together.
Hadley originally put me with the Dares but when she showed me the seating chart, I noticed the work table was smaller than the normal ten-person round.
I gladly offered to sit there. Zach’s soon-to-be wife treated me to a knowing look and a pleased smile.
Then she asked if my willingness had anything to do with Raven.
I answered her with one word. Everything. My seating choice was all about the woman beside me now.
We step into the large room and even I’m overwhelmed by the sight. The tables have high, white rose centerpieces, and the lighting gives the space a light lavender glow.
“This looks… beautiful,” Raven murmurs, obviously in awe.
Which surprises me considering she comes from a wealthy family.
I only know as much about Raven as Zach’s hiring background check told me.
The most curious fact is that her given name is Caroline Kane, yet she goes by Raven Walsh.
I have no idea why. Though I’m a PI and could find out the information myself, I want to hear her story from her.
Raven is a gorgeous blend of contradictions I want to understand even more than I plain want her.
She lives in the apartment upstairs from the bar and Zach mentioned she asked him to put an alarm system on the windows and doors before she moved in.
Not that I blame her, being a single woman living alone in Manhattan.
But as a former detective and current private investigator, it sparked my curiosity.
Raven Walsh is a mystery. And I like mysteries.
“The décor is beautiful,” she says.
I lean in close and whisper in her ear, “Not as beautiful as you.”
Her lips part and the sight has me desperate for a taste but before I can make a move, someone jostles us, killing the moment.
“Sorry,” a female voice says as the person rushes around us.
A flush stains Raven’s cheeks. I understand.
My entire body vibrates with need, but I suck it up and lead her to the table I scoped out earlier.
One set away from the speakers and near the dance floor, a place where I intend to take Raven into my arms and pull her tight against my body for the first time.
Most of the guests have claimed their seats, including Stevie, who stands beside her chair and waves at Raven. I release her arm and she rushes over to her friend, placing her purse on her chair.
I take my time walking over because there’s just one seat left at the table.
And it’s right next to Raven.
* * *
Raven
If I didn’t know better, I’d say Remy planned the seating, from us being at the same table to him ending up sitting beside me. We take our chairs, waiting for the bride and groom to make their entrance, and I study Remy’s profile.
A waiter walks around the table, filling champagne glasses, and I decide to stop worrying and just enjoy a fun evening. My other boss, a man I admire, has married the love of his life. The band is playing dance music that has me tapping my foot to the beat.
I pick up the glass and drink the bubbly liquid, aware that I easily get drunk on good champagne.
So I nod when the waiter asks if I want a refill and let the music fill my soul.
Beside me, Stevie bobs her head to the familiar chorus of the song while the man on Remy’s other side engages him in conversation.
When we rise to welcome the bride and groom, the band grows louder and Stevie cheers. “Let’s dance!”
Finishing my third glass, I put the flute on the table and rise to my feet. “Let’s go!”
Lightheaded in the best way, my mood now high, we make our way to the crowded center of the floor and find an empty space. We shimmy and dance to the music, surrounded by other single women rocking along with us. After a while, the music slows, and I realize I’m thirsty.
I feel his presence before I see him. A warmth at my back and a firm hand on my waist as Remy turns me toward him. Stevie, Remy notes, has already walked back to our table.
“Dance with me.” It’s not a question.
I place one hand on his shoulder. Before I can do the same with my other, he pulls me against him, winding his arms around my waist. The move forces me to do the same and I wrap my arms around his neck.
Our bodies come into contact and there’s no missing the hard ridge of his erection as we sway to the music. My sex pulses with need and I feel my arousal soak my panties. A low growl reverberates through his chest and I can’t deny how much this man gets to me.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to feel you in my arms.” His low voice rumbles in my ear. “But you’ve been playing hard to get.”
Tipping my head, I meet his gaze. “That’s because I am,” I say, unable to hide my grin.