Page 9 of Fire

Allie craned her neck, looking around. Gwen nudged her under the table with her foot. “Would you stop. You look like a tourist at Disneyland. Next thing you know, you’ll be whipping out your phone to take a picture.”

Allie’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, good idea!”

Gwen couldn’t hold back a laugh as she shouted, “Don’t you dare.”

Their drinks arrived, and Allie held hers aloft. “To fun nights and best friends.”

Gwen clinked Allie’s glass.

She could drink to that.

It’s funny how things happen when you least expect them. That’s what Gwen thought when she spotted her mystery man entering the VIP section.

Dressed in all black again—this time a suit that fit his body so perfectly, it had to be custom made—he sauntered in, eyes on her. And they were blazing. Even from a distance, she could tell.

Her body instantly reacted. Her nipples puckered and things farther south tingled, proving their last encounter hadn’t been a fluke. She didn’t understand it and couldn’t explain it, but it was hard to deny. This man just did it for her.

Still in a daze, she murmured, “Shit. I can’t believe he’s here.”

“Who’s here? Chris Hemsworth?” Allie asked rather loudly, having the people at the next table over, looking their direction. She was well into her third drink and feeling fine.

“No.” Gwen shook her head.

“Who then?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer. She hadn’t mentioned Mystery Man to Allie. First, because it had been a chance meeting at a popular club—a one-off—and she’d never thought to see him again. But most importantly because of how he’d made her feel, and not knowing how to express those feelings, she’d kept the encounter to herself.

Luckily, she didn’t have to answer. Mystery Man had reached their table.

“Ladies.”

His voice was a deep, smooth baritone—strong and rich and as pleasurable as the first sip of morning coffee. And just as potent. Its timbre zipped through her veins, waking her nerve endings and caused the little hairs on her arms to stand at attention.

“Well, hello there.” Allie had her head tipped back, a broad smile on her face. Her eyes were wide as saucers, eyelashes fluttering as she stared up at him.

Gwen kicked her shin under the table. Now was not the time for Allie to turn her flirt on.

“Ow.” Her eyes snapped to Gwen where they had a few-second, silent conversation. It ended with a jerk of Allie’s head and her eyes finding the dregs of her cocktail where she poked at a cherry with her straw.

“May I join you?”

Holy Mother, his smile was as lethal as his voice. His teeth weren’t perfect—the two front ones overlapping each other the tiniest bit—but it seemed to attract more than diminish from his charm, giving his smile personality.

Gwen did a Vanna White wave of her arm over the table. “Um, yeah, sure… I mean, please do.”

What was wrong with her? She was stuttering like a horny teen talking to their first crush. She felt her cheeks heat and quickly ducked her head, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

The table they sat at was a four-seater rectangle with Allie sitting across from her. They both had an empty chair beside them. He sat in the one next to Gwen, and her heart started beating double time.

She took a deep breath, and with him sitting so close, inhaled his scent. Not as strong as cologne—soap maybe—the aroma was clean with a hint of spice and citrus and light enough, she knew if she got even closer, his natural scent would bleed through.

“Blake Stone.”

God, he had a sexy name, too.

He held a hand her direction, and she slipped hers into it. Her hand felt small and dainty, engulfed in the heat of his larger one. “Gwen Butler.”

His lips tipped into a barely-there smile, but his eyes darkened as he squeezed just a fraction off from being too tight. “Nice to meet you, Gwen Butler.”

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