Page 60 of Recon Rendezvous

“So, what's the plan for tonight? Did you say it was a jazz club?” Sasha asks.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a jazz club. They have live jazz once a week, so let’s call it jazzy and the vibe is very sexy.”

“Girl, I’m loving it here. We’ll go wherever you tell us,” Mia chimes in, and Gem nods.

Once our appetizers arrive, we order our pizza, spaghetti, lasagna, and stuffed shells. The conversation flows easily between us, and I can’t stop the smile that crosses my face as I look around the table. They’ll never know it, but each of these women have healed a piece of me, and I’ll be forever grateful to them.

But it’s not just them. It’s Xander, too. The positive words, the praise, the willingness to let me be me without feeling threatened or angry. I appreciate that about him. He is who he is, and he accepts everyone for who they are. He also has that dick that really should have come with a warning label.Addiction fucking guaranteed.That right there scares me a little. I did not have Xander, or even anyone like him, on my bingo card. Loud laughter around the table snaps me from my thoughts, and I join in, teasing with the others, enjoying these moments.

It’s when I reach for my wine that I feel it. A zing of electricity flows through me and there’s a slight buzzing in my ears, as if someone changed the frequency in the room. But I shake it off as our waiter approaches the table again.

“Hi, Brad. I’m ready for the check,” I say, as he starts to clear our dessert plates.

“Don’t try it, heffa,” Zuri calls out. “This is my treat.”

“No, Brad. Please bring me the check. Thank you,” Mia says.

Gem and Sasha point at each other as poor Brad’s brows scrunch together in confusion.

“Sorry, Brad. We aren’t trying to make this difficult. I’ll take care of the check,” I say with a smile. I’ll make sure to tip a little extra since we are stressing this guy out.

“No, you aren’t being difficult at all,” he reassures me. “If you don’t need anything else, your bill has already been taken care of.”

Zuri laughs. “Of course, it has. Look at us. We must have some admirers.” She leans forward. “Bradley, discreetly point them out to us,” she whispers. She and Mia have not been shy about prowling tonight.

He nods, walking around to her side of the table, before saying, “It’s the group of guys at the end of the bar. The guy in the black suit specifically paid your bill.” He juts his chin to our left.

As one our heads turn in that direction. Messy, inky hair, smoldering eyes, and an infuriatingly cocky smirk greet me, sending my heart into a gallop.

Xander.

As if sensing our attention, Ty, Eli, and Drew all turn and utter chaos erupts around me as Sasha and Gem squeal and catapult from their seats to greet their men.

But I remain frozen, my eyes locked with Xander’s, and he does the same. Neither of us break the connection as everyone else in the room fades away.

He’s here.

And I have home court advantage.

But more importantly…he’s here.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

XANDER

The current of energy coursing through my body could power the entire city. Even as my gaze lands on her—on London’s stunning face—it doesn’t ease the unsettling feeling crawling beneath my skin. If anything, it’s like inviting gasoline to the party.

With my back against the bar, my eyes trained on her, they fuse with hers the second she turns in my direction. Her brows shoot up, a look of panic painting her features before she schools them into a smug smile.

Blocking out the squealing and screeching, I keep my eyes trained on London. She turns to another woman at their table as they laugh and finish their drinks. And I silently count to ten, willing myself to cool off before I walk over there and pull her into my arms and demand she never leave again.

Finally standing, she saunters toward us looking like all my kinkiest dreams come true. Dressed up as if she knew I’d be here to salivate all over her, she’s my favorite boss babe fantasy. Her fitted black dress resembles a tuxedo jacket and it’s holding on tight to all those dips and curves. Hitting mid-thigh, it shows off long smooth legs, the lapel a rich leather that frames her titsperfectly, and her strappy shoes lacing up her toned calves are sinful.

But I keep my eyes on her face, her pouty lips tantalizing swathed in a shiny red gloss, because I refuse to be distracted by all the tricks and treats that I know are under that dress. Not until I have a few words withLittle Ms. Runaway.

Walking past me she hugs Eli, Drew, and Ty, who whispers something in her ear, before she turns to me.

“Thank you for dinner. We appreciate it,” she says softly, without meeting my eyes.

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