Page 8 of Forced Vows

Not what she said so much as why she felt the need to say it. To put me down. If she was annoyed her date looked at me with interest, she could have left me out of it.

Whatever her reasons, I don't need shallow and bitchy adding to the nerves jumping to a Zydeco beat inside me.

What I do need, I realize, is time to psyche myself into hooking up with a complete stranger.

I throw the wadded-up napkins on the counter. "I'm going to dance."

"I insist you allow me to replace your lost drink." Helios grabs my arm, before I can walk away.

Why not? Liquid courage sounds better than ever.

I nod.

He makes a gesture to the bartender.

"After you enjoy the best Manhattan west of the Rockies, we can dance." Helios smiles down at me.

Those French love poems are sounding more and more like a lullaby, sending my ovaries to sleep.

"Not best in the country?" I tease, reaching for that initial spark that went out without even leaving a puff of smoke behind.

"I only care about being better than our sister clubs in California." He winks. "Don't really care about clubs on the East Coast."

He consigns the Midwest and the South to nonexistence in his drinks competition. Interesting.

A server comes rushing up and asks something in urgent tones. There's no disappointment in me when Helios grimaces ruefully.

"Duty calls. Maybe we can catch that dance later, Aphrodite" he offers.

I shrug noncommittally.

"She'll be busy." It's the guy with the rude date.

But the brunette is gone and the dark-eyed hottie is looking at me so intently, I worry one of my fake eyelashes is falling off.

Helios says something in a language I don't understand. Probably Greek. The language might be indecipherable to me, but the tone is easy to interpret.

He's swearing.

The older man…he's at least thirty, I'm sure of it…maneuvers his big body between me and Helios. My ovaries wake up like they just got a caffeine I.V. and butterflies start doing the mamba in my stomach, drowning out the Zydeco beat of my nerves.

I take a big gulp of my drink.

He smiles, the expression not reaching his dark eyes. "I apologize for Lala. She would say she is sorry herself but she's no longer here."

There are people named Lala? Who knew?

"Okay. That's not sinister or anything. What did you do, play bouncer and kick her out?"

He shrugs his massive shoulders. "I told her I was no longer interested in fucking her."

"And she just left?" And also, why is he no longer interested in the other woman?

"As a friend of the owners, I could get her blacklisted from the club."

"You're a friend of the owners?" I ask.

"Friend might be stretching it, but she offended one of them already. I doubt they'd deny me."

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