Page 72 of The Twilight Theft

Someone stifled a laugh over my earpiece. It must have been Emmett.

“What?” That had come out of left field.

“A dance partner.” He spun me slowly. “Do you prefer someone who spins you? Or maybe dips you?”

My world tipped upside down as he eased me back, my stupid leg kicking up for balance like a dance show contestant.

“Someone who gives you space?” He stepped back, holding me two feet away. “Or someone who…”

He pulled me close, as close as we’d been at his apartment. One hand latched around my waist, pressing me against his hard body.

Don’t think about his cock from the other night, don’t think about—

Too late.

“Or someone who holds you so tight, they make it clear to everyone in the room that you belong to me?”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

He touched his cheek to mine, his mouth an inch from my ear that didn’t have the earpiece. “Turn off your comms. I need to talk to you.”

“I can’t. You know that.”

“Then put yourself on mute. Something.”

That was Reynolds rule number one. Never turn off the earpiece on a job. “No.”

He straightened, lips tighter than his jaw. “Why did you leave Thursday night?”

“We’re not having this discussion right now.”

“You’ll be gone tomorrow.” His hand flexed on my back. “I’m not waiting.”

Why did he care? What did it matter? Was it a blow to his ego he couldn’t handle?

“Brie,” said Emmett. “Mute Jayce for five minutes. If something happens sooner, turn her back on.”

My stomach upturned. I pressed a hand over my ear, trying to hear something, but the line was dead. I glowered at Drew, taking a step away from him, but he treated it like a dance step, following me. “They shut my earpiece off.”

“Then tell me the truth.” His brows fell, as though he gave a shit.

“Stop.” I pushed my clutch hand against his chest. “Why are you doing this?”

“I thought we had something.”

Something temporary. Something not worth more than a few hours’ entertainment. “And then you were in bed with your ex the next day.”

His whole body tensed, and he stopped in the middle of the dance.

“Yeah, Drew, she told me.” A lump formed in my throat, cutting me off. Why? Why did I care? How did this man get under my skin so easily? “Can we just cut the bullshit and go back to being professional?”

“No.” He took in a slow breath, staring at the floor beside us. “You want to know the truth?”

“I don’t care.” I did, but he didn’t need to know that.

“She came by my place Thursday morning, telling me she wanted…” His gaze rolled up toward the room-length chandelier and finally to me. “I told her to get lost and now she’s angry.”

I patted his chest. “Good story.”

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