Page 24 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
Linc gave Claire a side glance. “I was hoping Claire would let me borrow hers.”
Claire scrunched her brow. “My what?”
“Your kitchen.”
The slowly dawning comprehension—and horror—on Claire’s face almost had Linc wavering. Luckily he could be a bit of a sadist when it came to getting what he wanted. Not that he’d truly hurt her—if Claire genuinely couldn’t accept him, he’d back off immediately. But until she landed on one side or the other, he had no problem pushing.
“You want to cook in my kitchen?”
Her voice was strangled. Beneath the table, he found her hand, intertwining their fingers. It wasn’t lost on him that she didn’t pull away. “I was hoping you’d share, yes. I wanted your input as I worked out the menu for the restaurant, so being at your place would be convenient. Erin needs a couple of weeks to redo the kitchen area in the mansion to ready it for when we begin housing staff there.”
He could actually see the implications running through her head, crossing her face. Him at her bakery every day. Having to spend time in the kitchen together. Having to spend time together, period. She was just opening her mouth—to protest, he had no doubt—when Lily popped in between him and Claire. “Time to dance!”
Bless her. He needed to remember to reward her for giving him a reprieve from Claire’s instinctiveno.
The table began clearing. “You’re coming, right, Linc?” JD asked, sarcasm heavy in his tone.
“You know me better than that, bro.”
JD laughed. “Yeah, I do.”
Lily grinned. “Are you telling me you don’t have moves as slick as your best friend?”
“Oh, I have slick moves.” He made sure to meet Claire’s eyes, his own heating. “I just prefer to reserve them for slower moments.”
Several of the women laughed as they walked away.
“Claire,” he called as she beat a hasty retreat.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“Save me a slow dance.”
She stumbled before hurrying to catch up to her friends. It was his turn to grin as he made his way toward the bar and company no longer available at his empty table. She ought to know by now, prey should never run.
Eleven
She felt a little bit like a mouse waiting for the cat to pounce on her. Every time she allowed herself to glance at the bar, there was Lincoln, his intent gaze centered on her, getting hotter as the night went on. He was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on, and that was saying something, because New York City was full of outrageously gorgeous men in gorgeous clothes that shouted their wealth to everyone in their vicinity. Lincoln topped them all. She kept expecting him to turn to some other woman, but he didn’t. Several women approached him at the bar, looking for attention, for a dance, but though he spoke to them, gave them his signature smile, he didn’t get up from his spot, and he didn’t stop watching every move she made.
Not until she heard the familiarthumpof the baseline for Alannah Myles’s “Black Velvet” come across the speakers.
They’d had a good five fast songs in a row. But it was the slow song Lincoln had requested she save for him. The minute she heard the slower tempo, her head swung toward the bar, searching, wondering if he’d been telling the truth.
Lincoln was already on his way across the pub.
Several couples filtered onto the dance floor, and some of her friends’ partners joined them for the slow dance. She didn’t really mind that Lincoln preferred to avoid the faster songs; to be honest, she’d never danced to fast songs with a partner until recently. Actually until JD came to town. Growing up, she hadn’t been allowed to dance at all. Her family had been highly religious, and dancing was seen as a sin. That belief had been one of the first she’d shed after her divorce.
But now, watching him stalk toward her across the crowded room, she wanted desperately to have a partner for the next song. Not just any partner, butLincoln. The thought of him holding her in his arms, against that firm body, had tingles starting up in places that were probably the reason dance had been considered a sin in the first place.
She’d chance it.
“Claire.” Lincoln held out his hand, and she placed her palm on his, feeling his warmth, the secure clasp of his fingers. “I believe this dance is mine.”
Scarlett giggled next to her.
Lincoln gave her friend a wink before drawing Claire away. She went without resistance. As Alannah’s sultry voice began singing about Elvis, she thought the woman could have been talking about Lincoln just as easily. The man certainly had the sexiness down, the moves. And when he smiled at her... Yeah, thatlittle boy smilewith the edge of wicked made every woman in the room swoon.
One hand rested at the small of her back, the heat searing her through the thin material of her dress. Same in the front. Lincoln’s body was hot against hers, tightening her nipples, shooting butterflies through her belly. He held her slightly off center, they’re joined hands clasped against his chest, his head tucked against hers so that his warm breath coasted across her semi-bare shoulder. She shivered against him.
