He laughed, a sexy, husky growl. “I am, but I’m not blind. You looked so fucking hot dancing on that bar.” He hadn’t been yelling this time. His voice was just above a whisper, with a guttural rasp.

Instinctively, my shoulder rose to my ear, itching the tickle of his breath. I tried to stay composed, despite being turned on by the knowledge that he’d been watching me.

“Thanks.” I took a long gulp of my drink to halt the words on the tip of my tongue. Confessing that I thought he looked hot every minute of every hour of every moment I spent with him might give him the wrong impression. I couldn’t respond to his flirting. Not when he thought of me as a conquest to screw and dump.

“Blah.” I raked my teeth against my tongue a few times, trying to get the taste off. Nothing like being saved by a disgusting drink.

“What is it?” Aleksandr asked.

“I asked him for plain club soda. They must’ve put gin or something in it.”

“Who’s ‘him’? All the bartenders are women,” Aleksandr asked, taking the cup from my hands and bringing it to his nose.

Of course he’d know all the bartenders are women. He’d probably had an orgy with all of them.

“The guy who came with one of our friends bought me a drink.”

Aleksandr tossed my cup into a nearby trash bin and grabbed my hand. His warm fingers laced through mine, squeezing so we wouldn’t disconnect as he weaved us through a group of people hanging out in front of the bar.

Aleksandr nodded his head at a bare-bottomed bartender. “A shot of vodka and a plain club soda with three limes.”

Skimptastic winked at him before turning around to get cups. Her shorts, which were barely there in front, were nonexistent in the back, just two high-cut half moons that showed off her ass-et. Sure, she had fishnet stockings underneath, but did holey tights leave anything to the imagination?

No reason to be jealous. He’s not yours, I reminded myself. Rather than picture Aleksandr and Skimptastic screwing on the bar, I rooted around in my purse, hunting for my wallet. Aleksandr put a hand on my arm, stopping my search.

“You don’t pay when you’re with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I pay for my drink?”

“Consider it a gift for putting up with my shit.” He smiled, that perfect white smile, which I now knew was partially dentures.

“Sorry.” I shook my head, holding out a ten I’d found. “Can’t accept gifts from clients.”

“Please,” he said. “It’s a club soda. She won’t even charge me.”

When Skimptastic came back with our drinks, Aleksandr accepted them both before handing one to me.

“Thanks, Sasha.”

“I’m Sasha now?” He poked me in the rib cage, a smile creeping across his face.

“Yes. When you do nice things like get me a new drink,” I responded, pushing his arm away with an elbow. His teasing made me want to giggle, but giggling was not an option.

“I’ll do nice things more often. Shouldn’t be a jerk to my beautiful translator.”

“Yeah, let’s get back to that.” I turned to face him, ignoring the shiver of lust that shook my body when he’d called me beautiful. “You never begged for my forgiveness.”

“I wouldn’t beg for forgiveness.” Aleksandr leaned closer. His fingers skimmed the back of my leg where the hem of my dress hugged my thigh, and I gasped. “Your permission? Definitely.”

Damnit! Why did I have to react to his touch right in front of him? Was I so hard up for a guy’s hands on me that I couldn’t hold in a damn gasp?

Ummm. Yes. It had been over a year since I’d hooked up with anyone, around the same time I’d stopped drinking so much.

“Why did you order me three limes?” My subject change was obvious.

Aleksandr chuckled before answering. “You always have three limes in your drinks. Figured that’s how you liked it.” He shrugged and tipped back his shot, like knowing how to order my drink was no big deal.

Doubt it meant anything to him, but I found it sweet that he’d even paid attention. I seriously had to stop thinking about him like that.

“Thanks for the drink. I’ve got to find Kristen.” I nodded to the dance floor.

Aleksandr barely registered my goodbye, since his eyes had narrowed in on someone at the end of the bar. I watched him slam his shot glass on the bar and stalk toward his prey without a second glance at me.

Way to wait until I left the vicinity before finding another girl to hit on, Varenkov.

I stumbled away, suddenly feeling light-headed and dizzy. Crossing the crowded dance floor proved to be more of an adventure than it should have been. I bumped into more people than I could count as I searched for Kristen. I’d had one drink when we got to the club over an hour ago, then switched to plain club soda. One sip of that last one shouldn’t have caused me to be so unbalanced.

I stopped to get my bearings, scanning the crowd, but I couldn’t focus. A glob of colors swirled in front of me as faces blurred into one another. When I took another step, my stomach rolled and the floor dropped. Throwing out an arm, I caught my balance on the shoulder of a guy dancing. After a wave of apology, I elbowed through the crowd, willing the vomit rising in my throat to stay put until I made it to the bathroom.

As I pushed open the door to the women’s bathroom, I panicked at the length of the line. The girls could tell a puker when they saw one, and they all let me stumble into the next open stall. One girl even followed me in and held my hair out of my face as I heaved into the toilet.

My legs shook as I rose, and I gripped the wall for assistance. I thanked the girl who helped me before I stumbled to the sink to wash my hands. As I rinsed my mouth, Kristen pushed through the bathroom door.

“Aud! Are you okay?” she asked, pushing the hair out of my face.

“I got sick,” I told her, making a face in the mirror.

“Why do we come to Canada again?” She fished a travel-sized bottle of mouthwash out of her purse. I took a swig, swishing it around before spitting into the sink. She retrieved a powder compact from her purse and pressed the soft puff across my forehead, nose, and cheeks. Neither the puking nor the makeup made me feel better. I still felt light-headed, as if I could pass out.

Kristen lowered the compact. “You still don’t look good. You want to get going?”

I nodded, holding my forehead with my palm, unsure if I could walk to the car.

Kristen grabbed my free hand, weaving us through the bar with expert precision. She left me near the door so she could close out her tab. A few minutes later Jeremy bounced into my peripheral vision.

“Come back out with me,” he coaxed, grabbing my arm. I shook my head, but he was strong, and his tug wrenched me away from the wall.

“I don’t think she wants to dance right now,” an accented male voice growled.

Jeremy dropped my arm. “What the fuck, man?”

“Maybe I do,” I told the voice. I knew the voice. I was trying to be a hard-ass.

“Then you dance with me,” Aleksandr commanded, encircling me in his arms. The song blasting through the speakers wasn’t slow, but I didn’t care. I immediately felt safe wrapped in his embrace, swaying to the music. Resting my head on his chest, I shivered in anticipation of breathing in his sweet scent of clove cigarettes and mountain-fresh soap again.

Instead, he reeked of stale beer, which annoyed me because he always drank vodka. I wanted to strip his smelly clothes off and push him into the shower. I wanted to scrub the muscular swell of his arms and the ripples of his chest and abdomen. I wanted to push him up against the cold tiled wall and taste his tongue as hot water pelted our skin.

“Are you okay, Audushka?” Aleksandr said against my ear.

I couldn’t hear him with the thump of the bass in the background. I shrugged against his chest, nestling deeper into his arms, enjoying the fantasy while I had the opportunity.