Page 44 of Lawless in Leather

“Raina.” His hand grazed her cheek, and she couldn’t stop herself leaning into his touch. “How about we just start from here and see what happens?”

Chapter Ten

“Define start from here?” Raina said.

His thumb brushed her lip, then he lifted his hand. “How about we start with another drink?”

He was giving her space. Time to think. Everything she needed. Which made it hard for her do the smart thing and climb off the sofa. She wanted to lean in. Get closer. Touch him back. Instead, she swung her feet off his lap and pushed to her feet, wincing a little at the pull in her legs.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” She smiled. “Just a dancer who’s getting older.”

“You’re barely thirty.”

“That’s ancient in dance years,” she said. Rising to her toes, she stretched briefly then padded into the kitchen to retrieve the scotch.

“Is that why you have the club now instead of doing Broadway?”

She nodded. “That and the fact that no one ever got rich in a Broadway chorus.” She carried the scotch back with her and refilled their glasses.

“You want to be rich?” Mal asked as she passed him his drink.

“I want to be comfortable,” she said. “To not be at the mercy of a landlord and the whims of others.”

“And burlesque can give you that?”

She shrugged. “It’s a start. If I can, I’ll buy the building eventually. Have the club. Have some equity. I can build from there.”

“Brooklyn real estate is expensive.”

“No kidding.” She sipped scotch. “But we’ll see. I have four years left on the lease.” At least she hoped she did. If Phil didn’t change his mind and sell. “That gives me time to put money away, to build up a track record that would convince a bank to lend to me.”

“It’s a good plan. And if you ever want advice on real estate, Alex is your man.”

She almost choked on her scotch. “I’m sure Alex Winters is too busy to worry about my investment portfolio or lack thereof.”

Mal grinned. “Maybe. But he knows the ins and outs of the market and he knows a hell of a lot of talented people.”

“I’ll think about it.” She took another sip and eyed the armchair and then the sofa. Wash, for once, hadn’t woken from his napping position on the sofa arm to jump into the warm spot she’d vacated. That space was still there. If she wanted to sit back down so close to Mal.

Where was the harm? Mal had made it perfectly clear he wasn’t going to do any jumping or lunging for her unless she invited him to. Perfectly safe.

And she wanted to be near him even if she didn’t yet want to give in to the desire for more. She slipped back onto the sofa, curling her legs up beneath her. Her calves and feet still ached slightly but she wasn’t ready to ask Mal to put his hands on her again. Not yet.

“So, Mr. Coulter,” she said. “We keep talking about me. Tell me something about you.”

Another glass and a half of scotch later and Raina’s eyes were growing heavy, weighted down just enough by scotch to relax her. It was late. Too late for everything she needed to do in the morning. But it turned out that talking to Mal was easy, and the deep rumble of his voice was soothing, and it was tempting to just keep on talking. See in the sunrise. Something she hadn’t done from this side in quite some time.

But before she could stop herself, a yawn stole across her face. She tried to hide it but to no avail.

“You’re tired,” Mal said.

“I am,” she admitted. The yawn hadn’t relieved the sleepiness stealing over her.

“Me too,” he said. He glanced toward the window. Rain had been pouring down for the last hour or so. She realized that he didn’t actually have a car with him. They’d driven her pickup. Of course, he had a driver or could call a cab. Though it seemed kind of heartless to throw the man out into the weather at three a.m. So. Go or …

Or what, exactly? Six feet plus of Malachi Coulter wouldn’t fit on her couch. But she had a perfectly decadent king-sized bed.

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