Page 73 of The Fixer

Joy pulled away, damn it.

“I, uh, didn’t realize I’d know people here,” he stammered.

The Big Guy upstairs must have been watching and playing a colossal cosmic joke because more people streamed toward them, pushing Joy out of the way before he could drag her back. She gave him a little signal that she was okay and moved off to the bar, where a very friendly bartender was eager to give her whatever she wanted—a drink and himself too, apparently. Fuck! Charlie hadn’t even been able to buy Joy her first drink. What kind of date was he? Oh, right. Hewasn’ta date.

He broke away from the crowd, reclaimed Joy, and steered her to a table in a dark corner.

She tapped her beer bottle with pink nails. “You’re fidgety. Do you need a drink?”

“In a bit.”

Joy craned her neck. “I wonder what other fans are going to flock to you.”

“I’m sorry.” Placing his forearms on the table, he leaned toward her until he was within inches. He ran his eyes over her face, taking in every captivating detail while he inhaled more of that dizzying scent he wanted to bottle and sleep with. Why hadn’t he noticed the contours of her face before?

She was off-limits, that’s why. He straightened, putting distance between them.

“What are you sorry about?” She placed her lips against the long neck and took a slow sip, and his cock stirred with interest.

“It’s … I’ve lived in the area my whole life …”

“I get it. You’re a good-looking guy who’s in high demand, and these are small towns.”

“No, it’s not like that! Wait. You think I’m good-looking?” One side of his mouth quirked. He couldn’t help it.

She shook her head, but mischief capered in her eyes. In fact, her eyes were positively lit, all gold and fire. “Lucky me. I’m with San Juan County’s most famous bachelor.”

“We’re actually in Dolores County now.”

She gave him another smirk, and he found himself wanting to take it away with a bruising kiss that left her breathless. Liquid heat flooded his veins, and he pictured her beneath him, pleas tumbling from that sassy mouth of hers as she begged him for more.

Those pink lips took another cool tug off the bottle, and he had to adjust himself. The air between them pulsed with electrical charges, and if it kept up, he might go up in flames.

Fuck, this was going to be a long night.

The first band—Virgil’s—started to play, which was the distraction he needed. “Let’s dance.” Ignoring her protests, he grabbed her hand, pulled her to her feet, and dragged her to the dance floor, where he twirled her to start. He locked an arm around her waist and took her hand in his. They fit perfectly, and he moved their bodies together as if they’d been dancing together their whole lives.

“You’re good at this,” she murmured in his ear. Her warm breath tickled, raising the fine hairs on his neck and awareness throughout his body. Heightened desire sluiced through his veins.

“I’ve had a little practice,” he blurted out, sounding like an arrogant idiot. “Dancing, I mean.”

“Yeah, right. Dancing,” she agreed, but that impish smile on her face said otherwise.

He maneuvered her outside the other dancers and pulled her close, resting his nose close to her silky hair. God, she smelled good! She felt good too, with her pillowed curves flattened against him. Where he’d expected bony points digging into him, he got pure female softness.

She rested her head against his shoulder, her hand pressed to his lower back. Breath left her chest on a sigh. His dick liked the feel of her—likedeverythingabout her—and decided to come out and play. It urged him on, demanding he grind against her, but he pulled his hips away instead, executing an awkward sort of goose step. Now he could feel her laughing against him. Before he could consider his next move, his name blared over the speakers.

“Charlie Hunnicutt! Get your ass up here!”

No, no, no!

People egged him on, and he refused until he looked into Joy’s eyes, where a challenge shone. “Go on, Charlie Hunnicutt,” she teased. “I want to hear you sing. I’ll be fine right here in my li’l ol’ corner.” She motioned toward their table.

Hitching his jeans, he willed his hard-on to deflate. “Since you insist.”

He stepped up to the stage, and one of the band members handed Charlie a Fender Stratocaster. Charlie gaped at him. “Seriously?”

“Go on,” the guy laughed. “I’ve seen you play. I know you’ll be good to my baby.”

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