Page 10 of Heated Rivals
Her breath stalled in her chest. “But…” Sloan looked down at her hands, fighting to get the words past the concrete block in her throat. “Marriage.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that it had worked out for Teague—to maybe even suggest that Carrigan would get the same results—but she stopped. Their brother had been fortunate to the point ofunbelievability. Lightning never struck the same place twice, and those were the odds for Carrigan to make a love match from the list of men their father had provided.
“I know.” Carrigan took her hands. “I didn’t drag you in here so we could have a pity party. Things are the way they are. I just wanted to give you as much of a heads-up as I could.”
Because she was next.
The realization settled inside her, turning her blood to ice and her brain into a worthless buzz. As soon as Carrigan was safely carted away into a marriage, their father would turn his eye onher. She’d never pretended the Catholic devotion that her sister had, not to the point where it would be believable that she was considering joining a convent. Even if she had, their father wasn’t likely to fall for the same ruse twice. No, he’d strike quickly, while she was still young enough to be valuable.Pliable.
“It doesn’t matter if I see it coming or not. It’s inevitable.” It seemed like her feet had been set on this path from birth. She’d never put much thought into it before, and now her time was up.What am I going to do with a husband?
“Sloan…” Carrigan hesitated, and then seemed to change what she’d been about to say. “I’m sorry.”
She managed to squeeze her sister’s hands back, even though her fingers were numb. “Don’t be sorry. Go enjoy your night.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
She would have laughed if she had the breath for it. “You know how much I hate those clubs. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.” A lie, but one Carrigan let her have. Sometimes it seemed there were more comforting lies than truthsbetween them now.
“We’ll talk more soon.”
What was the point? They could talk for days on end, but it wouldn’t change their circumstances. Helpless fury rose inside her. She was well and truly trapped, up to her neck in quicksand and sinking fast.
God, what am I going to do?
CHAPTER FOUR
Carrigan stepped into the club and tried to tell herself that she was here for the right reasons. It had nothing to do with looking for James, and everything to do with proving to herself she wasn’t afraid. Because she wasn’t. The only reason he’d gotten the best of her was because he kept catching her off guard. That wouldn’t happen tonight. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she scanned the crowd, searching for that towering blond figure.
Nothing.
Ignoring the feeling that might have been disappointment souring her stomach, she wound through the dance floor and headed for the stairs leading to the VIP area. She needed a drink and to get her head on straight, and then she’d go dance until she forgot what she’d agreed to earlier today.
Just like she always had.
And maybe she’d finally break her four-month-long dry spell…
She shook her head and climbed the stairs. No. Not tonight, and not a guy from here. It hadn’t worked out so well last time, and she sure as hell wasn’t looking for a repeat kidnapping. At the top of the stairs, she paused and let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Up here, there were no strobe lights or black lights or anything other than tiny lamps on each of the tables, throwing off just enough illumination so that someone could walk the entire floor without tripping over something. In theory.
She headed for her favorite booth, but drew up short when she saw that it was occupied. Her brain took precious seconds to catch up to her eyes. There he was, the asshole, sitting inherbooth with his legs stretched out in front of him, wearing those jeans that hugged his ass and thighs and a smug smirk, with his arms stretched out across the back of the booth. Challenging her.
In case she missed all that written all over his face, there were two drinks in front of him—a beer and, if she didn’t miss her guess, a dirty martini.Herpreferred drink. How the hell did he even know that?
Oh yes, this was a challenge all right.
Every intelligent cell in her brain demanded she turn around and walk away.Runaway. But then the bastard raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to sit down and drink with him, and she threw common sense right out the window. Carrigan strode across the distance separating them, putting a little more swing into her step and smiling to herself when his gaze tracked the movement. Album or not, tangled history or no, he wanted her.
And she wasn’t above using that against him.
“Two nights in a row. I must have pissed off Lady Luck somehow.” She sank onto the cushionedseat across the small table from him. The bartender appeared half a second later, and Carrigan smiled sweetly at her. “A dirty martini, please.”
The woman looked at the table, looked back at her, and shrugged. “Sure thing.”
If anything James just seemed more amused. “Too good for my drinks?”
“I’m not stupid enough to take a drink I’ve left unattended… and I’ve never laid eyes on this one until I got here. Party Girl 101.”
“Now, lovely, why would I need to drug you? You came here of your own free will, just like I knew you would.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, drawing her gaze to the way his black T-shirt clung to his shoulders and how his dangling hands seemed designed to frame the bulge between his legs.
