Page 20 of Amber Gambler

“What?” She cranked her head to the left. “Good God almighty.”

The trim figure finished rolling up the sleeves of a gray silk dress shirt to expose her toned forearms. Her slacks matched her shirt, making her black vest pop. Her usually wild hair had been parted to one side and slicked back, the tail twisting into a tight bun at her nape. She wore large silver rings on her fingers and a pocket watch, sterling chain flashing, nestled in her vest on her nondominant side.

I felt my mouth fall open, but I would have had to steal a car jack from the shop to wedge it shut again.

“Marry me,” Josie breathed, wetting her lips.

“I’m not the marrying kind.” Carter held out her hand. “I’ll dance with you, though.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Josie let Carter lead her out onto the floor.

As I stood there, grateful to Carter for distracting Josie from her heartache, a rich scent hit my nose. Had I any inclination toward recruiting a FWB of my own, the man next to me would top my list, and not just because he could cook like nobody’s business. “Bash.”

Six feet and change. Natural blue hair brushing his shoulders. Built like he ate mountains for breakfast.

“Frankie,” he rumbled through his deep chest. “Where you been?”

The thing about Josie dating Armie was we had congregated at his restaurant when they were on again. Only when they were off again had Matty and I been allowed to venture to Lure with Josie’s permission.

Which sucked. I liked Bash. He was good people. Sweet and funny and sexy. A rare combination.

He and I bonded after I word vomited my problems all over him at the bar my first time at Lure. I had been so pathetic, stuffing myself with the best chicken wings I had ever put in my mouth, sipping a Bijou, while Matty and Josie danced with anyone who could keep up with them.

On the bright side, Bash appreciated my healthy appetite enough to befriend me and ply me with treats.

Feeding a stray? Or taming one? Either way, I took no offense at his often deep-fried attentions.

“Work.” I backed toward the table Josie had chosen. “How’s business?”

“Better now that you’re here.” He set my plates down with a clank. “You stroke my?—”

“Please tell me you were about to sayego.”

“Folks come here to forget.” He dragged a knuckle down my cheek. “It’s nice to be remembered.”

For his skill in the kitchen rather than his talents in the bedroom. Even if, as an incubus, the latter was as much foodfor him as the former was for me. As someone often ribbed for allowing her work to define her, I got his desire to not be pigeonholed by his breadwinning talents alone.

“You’re welcome to join me.” I slid across the seat. “I can’t hold all this anyway.”

Not that it ever stopped me from trying, but I had yet to succeed.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He sat opposite me, draping his long arms down the seat back to either side of him, and watched me take my first bite of chicken. Then lick my fingers clean. “Watching you savor my flavors is almost better than sex.”

A cough lodged in my throat, choking me, and I reached for my glass of water, chugging it.

When I could speak again, I asked, “Why does everything you say sound so…?”

“…filthy?” A slow grin spread across his rugged face. “It’s one of my many gifts.”

There was an odd intensity in his stare that struck me as serious. “Something on your mind?”

“Word is that Armie Buchanan is no longer among the living.”

“You know the rule.”

“We don’t talk about Armie.” His lips thinned in consideration. “I have respected your loyalty to a friend, but confirmation would go a long way toward helping me smooth any ruffled feathers. You can keep the details to yourself, I don’t traffic in gossip, but some folks seem to think you had something to do with it, and I would like the opportunity to prove I can be loyal to my friends too.”

Air rushed from my lungs, and I sat there, deflated, my feet itching to run before it was too late.

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