Page 11 of Fire

Eyes still warm, he replied, “Felt rusty. I don’t do it often.”

“You should. I read once that laughing reduces blood pressure and might even lengthen your lifespan.”

The waitress arrived with their drinks, interrupting their banter.

Allie fell on hers like a woman who’d just trudged ten miles through an arid wasteland.

“Will I have to carry you home?” Gwen quirked her lips Allie’s direction.

“Nah. I’m stopping after this, and then I’ll hit the dance floor to sober up.”

Gwen uncapped her water, noticing it was the same fancy bottle as last time. “I’ve never heard of this brand,” she said, fingering the label.

“It’s imported from Japan.”

“Wow, you really do know your stuff. Are you a bartender still?”

“Something like that.” His words were evasive, but his body language was open—a total contradiction.

A man stopped at their table, preventing her from asking for further clarification.

Tall, broad-shouldered, blond-haired, blue-eyed, killer gleaming smile. He looked familiar, but Gwen couldn’t place where she’d seen him before.

“Stone, good to see you.”

“Rex.” Blake tipped his chin, his relaxed pose stiffening, and she felt his hand land on the back of her neck, giving it a squeeze.

Before she could ponder his strange behavior, Allie grabbed her attention when she gushed, “Oh, my God, you’re Rex Donovan, season three Extreme Wilderness winner.”

“Guilty as charged.” If possible, the wattage of his smile increased, and Gwen wished for sunglasses. “And you are?”

“Completely at your mercy.”

He laughed. “In that case, let’s dance.”

He took Allie’s hand as she stood on unstable legs.

Allie sent her a questioning look, and Gwen shooed her away. “Go. Have fun.”

The next thirty minutes or so was more of the same. Every time they would start a conversation, it would get interrupted. Blake, it appeared, was a popular fellow.

“You know a lot of people, Mr. Stone.”

He didn’t look pleased by that fact. “How about we go somewhere we won’t be disturbed.”

Skeptically, she looked around the packed club.

She heard Blake softly chuckle. “Don’t worry. I know a place.”

Should she do it? The thought of being alone with Blake was too good to pass up. She shrugged a shoulder. “Sure.”

He helped her to her feet, holding her chair out of the way so she could maneuverer around it. His grip was warm and secure as he took her hand and chased away the chill of hers along with any lingering doubts.

Leading her through the crowd—that amazingly parted for him—they skirted the dance floor to the back of the club.

They were halfway down a deserted hall, which Gwen knew didn’t lead to the restrooms, when she asked, “Are we supposed to be down here?”

He didn’t answer, instead pulling on a door that opened to a flight of stairs. She glanced at Blake then up the flight. At the top was another door. Giving her a little nudge at the small of her back, she took a hesitant step up and then another, feeling his heat as he followed closely behind.

---