He smelled like soap and bourbon, two scents I could appreciate on a man, and when he spun me around in a lazy twirl, I started to laugh. My feet tangled in the next moment, and I almost tripped as my eyes landed on a figure standing in a pool of light near the bar.

Half of his face was in shadow, but the rest of him...all hollows and angles and brooding eyes. He was looking right at me, and there was no mistaking that face.

Ash.

My partner steadied me, and I jerked my head around to meet his concerned gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asked, lowering his head to speak directly into my ear.

I nodded, looking back to where I thought I’d seen Ash.

But he wasn’t there.

I was imagining things. I had to be. There was no way someone like Ashford Lang would be somewhere like this. This was a club for people like me. People who actually had to work for a living.

Forcing my mouth into a smile, I moved closer to him, trying to settle back into the rhythm we'd found. “I couldn’t be better.”

I didn't know if he heard me, but judging by the glint in his eyes, he caught my meaning just fine. He slid one hand down my spine until he reached the small of my back, guiding my hips until we were moving in tandem.

The dance was slowly becoming more intimate, and it wasn’t very hard to stop thinking about what – who – I'd thought I’d seen.

Right up until I saw him again about ten minutes later.

I managed not to trip this time, instead, ducking my head and spinning myself around to press my back up against my partner’s chest. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and even as I searched for Ash, I had to appreciate the solid length of the man at my back. And one part of him was getting even more solid as I ground back against him...

Ash had disappeared.

Again.

Was he here?

Or was I imagining things?

Why would I be imagining him though? That was a question I really didn't want to think about.

Hard, calloused hands stroked down my shoulders, and I shivered a little as he moved me back around. The music changed, but I was sweating and in need of a break. My partner must have either sensed it or needed a break as much as I did, because he started to lead me off the dance floor towards the bar where I'd seen Ash. Or, at least, where I thought I'd seen Ash.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, his breath hot against my ear.

“I buy my own.” I gave him a quick smile. This wasn't a date and I didn't want him to mistake it for one.

He nodded, unfazed, and flagged down the bartender.

Once we had our drinks, he bent over me so he could talk without having to actually shout. “You got a guy watching you. You know that?”

I almost spilled my drink.

Again, he steadied me, his hand curling over my elbow and staying there. “Don’t look over there yet, he’ll just get lost in the crowd.”

“You sound like you’re a pro at this.”

“I’m a cop.” He grinned at me and shrugged, taking a sip from his beer.

A cop. I studied him thoughtfully for a moment, and then shook my head. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Throat dry, I looked down at my vodka martini, and then took a healthy swallow.

“It’s my pretty face.” He winked and then nodded off to the side—the right side. “Glance over to my left, casual, like you’re looking for the ladies room or something,” he advised, reaching out and stroking a hand down my shoulder.

I did, trying not to think about the way his skin felt against mine. It had been a while since I'd gotten laid. Far too long.

My gaze collided with Ashford Lang.

This time, he didn’t look away.

For a beat of maybe five seconds, we stared at each other, and my heart pounded harder with each moment that ticked by. I suddenly didn't feel my dance partner's hand anymore.

Furious now, I tossed back the rest of the vodka martini, and practically slammed my glass down on the surface of the bar.

“I take it you know him.”

I looked at the sexy cop I’d been dancing with, but I wasn't really seeing him. “You could say that. I’ll be back.”

I shot up and began to make my way through the crowd.

Chapter 6

Ash

Fuck me.

She moved like sex personified. Calm, self-assured sensuality. Someone with that much fire and intensity shouldn't be allowed to move like that on top of everything else.

I still wasn’t sure why I’d followed her into the club. It definitely wasn’t my kind of scene. When I went out, it was for a specific reason, and it wasn't to make friends.

That seemed to be the main reason she was here, although I wasn't sure I liked the kind of friends she wanted to make.

The guy she was dancing with had some issues keeping his eyes – and hands – off of her, but she didn’t seem to mind. Hell, for all I knew, she’d come here to find a guy to take home and fuck him six different ways from Sunday.

The idea irritated me more than I was comfortable with. But it wasn't because I was bothered by the idea of a woman who was comfortable with her sexuality and wanted to have sex. I was bothered because when I pictured Toni spread out and naked, I was picturing her with me.

And there was no way in hell that was going to happen.

But I couldn't stop watching her. Hell, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her from the moment she'd sized me up and told me off. At first, I'd chalked it up to me being pissed, but the first time I let myself remember my sudden urge to kiss her, I hadn't been able to put it out of my mind. I'd found myself watching her whenever she was around, making excuses to spend time with Isadora when I'd known Toni would be there. It had only been a week, but I couldn't quit thinking about her and it was driving me crazy.

She spun around and pressed back up against her partner. I watched as he caught her hips, pulled her ass snug against him. The narrow blue skirt wasn’t insanely short, but as she bent and swayed and twisted to the music, it rode up a little higher, and I could imagine how easy it would be to push it all the way up, strip away whatever fussy, frilly bit of panties she wore and drive myself inside her.

She was so petite, she’d have to fight to take me all at once.

I would fist one hand in her hair, force her to hold still as her body worked to take my cock. As her tight pussy squeezed me...

I blew out a slow, controlled breath and shoved the image out of my head.

It wasn’t going to happen.

She was Isadora’s employee.

And there was some shit in her background that didn’t exactly thrill me. It wasn’t even that she’d taken this job knowing it was only short term, although I sure as hell wasn’t please about that. Isadora had been crestfallen when I'd told her that the woman she was bubbling over about was only working for her to pay for her last six months of school.

I was still sort of stunned by the fact that the girl was going to be a psychiatrist.

She just didn’t seem…well, I couldn't say she didn’t seem smart enough or determined enough – or ballsy enough.

The private investigator I’d retained – a quiet, soft-spoken former cop by the name of Stanley Kowalski – had turned over a veritable mountain of information on her. It had taken me some time to page through it and I was still puzzled by some of it. She’d graduated high school at sixteen, even with taking advanced placement courses so that she'd been a good part of her way through a BA in psychiatry when she'd gotten her diploma. She'd also been on her way to Stanford once she'd gotten approved for all of the scholarships she'd been a shoe-in for.

And then...nothing.

She'd gone nowhere. She'd still gone to school, but she hadn't had any scholarships. Hence the reason she was working for my sister.