After he is served a fresh brandy, he watches me over his glass as he takes a taste. “So, you come here often?” he asks with a hint of amusement.

“Every Saturday.”

His brows lift in question. “No work on Saturdays?”

He’s baiting me, and I refuse to bite. “Nope. Saturdays are my play days.” I emphasize “play” hoping to garner some kind of reaction, but I get none. Saturday is the only day I requested off when I started working at the club, for obvious reasons. It’s the true start of the weekend, the one day I get to let down my hair and forget about work and school and immerse myself in pleasure, and I use it to my full advantage.

He hums and nods thoughtfully. “Here with friends?”

Peering over his head, I lift my chin, indicating Annie and the group that is now gathered around her, smiling and laughing, and all without me. “Looks like the gang is all here.”

Professor Scott glances over his shoulder, but his interest is not with them. When his eyes meet mine again, the hunger is plain for anyone to see, and a thread of anticipation tangles in my belly. “I’ve never been to this establishment. Stick around and have a drink with me.”

The low rumble of his voice does things to me, but as tempting as the offer is, I made myself a promise, and I need to stick to it. “Sorry, no. That’s probably not the best idea, wouldn’t you agree? I should be getting back.” Taking my beer with me, I step away from the bar.

Catching my hand in his, he holds me in place. I wait for him to say something—anything—until I realize that it isn’t what I’m waiting for him to say that I should be paying attention to—it’s what he’s not saying.

It’s all right there, in the knowing, teasing gleam in those onyx eyes. Lust. Intrigue. Promise. This isn’t over between us. Not by a long shot.

I can still feel the imprint of his fingers on my skin, long after I make my escape.

SEVEN

I lost count of how many drinks I had around number seven. Seeing as seven is my lucky number, I can’t go wrong. Stepping onto that stage tonight seems like a pretty good idea from where I’m standing, which is on top of my chair.

“If you don’t stop shaking your ass like that,” Brody chides, “you’re gonna bust an ankle.”

I glance down at my heeled blue suede boots and shake my head. It spins in response, which sends all of my senses into a tailspin. I throw my hands out to steady the walls, feeling like I might throw up. “These shoes would never hurt me,” I slur, knowing I’m right because Elvis would never steer me wrong.

Shaking his head, Brody returns his attention to the stage where a female duo is wrapping up their version of Wind Beneath My Wings.

It’s at that moment that the chair slides out from under me.

I screech as I begin falling, but before anyone at the table has time to react, a pair of strong arms catch me just in the nick of time. I’m so happy I didn’t break my ass that I cling to my savior like a bur.

Until I realize who is holding me.

Black-as-midnight eyes glare back at me, as though I’ve done something to personally offend him, and I shove out of Professor Scott’s arms, rolling awkwardly to my feet. He’s such a gentleman, though, that he refuses to relinquish his hold on my arm until he’s certain I won’t make a repeat performance.

“What are you still doing here?” I brush any dirt I may have picked up from my clothes.

“I think the question is what are you still doing here? How many drinks have you had tonight? Because I counted seven.”

Well, what’s the point in asking if he’s just going to answer for me? I lift my chin a little higher. “I know my limit.”

He leans closer, placing his lips against my ear. “Yeah? Then why are you swaying on your feet right now?” As if to prove his point, the room tilts and I pitch sideways. Grasping my arms, Professor Scott holds me upright. Which is good, because I am pretty sure my legs have turned to rubber.

Maybe he has a point.

“Come on, you’ve had enough for tonight. I’ll drive you home.”

“I’m not ready to go home yet. I have a performance and I can’t miss it.”

“The only performance in your future is climbing into bed and sleeping it off.” Focusing on something over my head, Professor Scott says, “We’re heading out.”

Baffled, I turn to see who he is speaking to and see Brody nod in agreement. “Cool. I’ll have someone follow me over in the morning to drop off her car.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” I ask, fighting through the alcohol-induced fog.

“Who, Ransom?” Brody asks as he abandons his chair to join us at the end of the table. “He’s the art teacher.” He says this as if everyone knows this, which maybe they do. The man is gorgeous. You’d have to be dead not to notice him.

Ransom. So that’s his name. It’s… hot. Dangerous, just like I know him to be. I wonder just how much Ransom has told Brody about us. But the fact that Brody isn’t beating his face in right now suggests not a lot.

“He’s gonna take you home, okay, kid?” Brody’s massive hand lands on top of my head and gives it a little shake. Hair falls in my eyes, and I shake him free in annoyance. “I’m gonna need your keys before you go.”

“My keys? What if I say no?”

Brody gives me his trademark crooked smile that says he finds me funny. “You’re wasted, and I already made the arrangements. Do me a favor and cooperate for once. I’ll make sure your car is waiting for you when you wake up tomorrow.”

I’m not sure how I feel about him going behind my back, but the alcohol is starting to get to me and I don’t think to question it further. My chest constricts at how nice Brody is to me. He’s such a good guy. It literally brings a tear to my eye. I sniff and wipe it away as I hand over the keys. “Don’t hurt her.”

“Not unless she asks me to.” Smirking, Brody pulls me into a quick hug and then hands me back to Ransom. “I don’t care if she asks you to, don’t hurt her. Got it?”

“You have my word.”

***

I don’t live far, and Ransom has no problem following my directions. Surprising considering I can’t quite remember how to get home right now. With a hand on my arm to help steady me, he walks me to my door and uses my keys to let me inside.

“Thanks for seeing me home safely,” I say as I step inside and feel around for the light switch.

“Do you need any help with anything before I go?”

Looking back at him, the slight frown Ransom wears confuses me. I’m not sure if he was hoping I’d tell him no so he can leave, or if he wants me to ask him inside. “I’ll be fine,” I assure him. It’s probably best that he leave anyway. There is nothing cute about being drunk, and I am pretty sure I’m going to be worshiping the porcelain god soon.

Bending to take off my shoes, I have a difficult time maintaining my balance. Using the wall for support, I succeed, though barely. The sound of the door closing behind me is startling, and my head jerks up. “I thought you left.”

Ransom shakes his head. “You can barely stand. I’d be angry at myself if I didn’t at least stick around long enough to make sure you made it to your bed.”

I don’t know how I feel about him being in my personal, private space. With a relationship like ours, this kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen. He isn’t supposed to know my name, who I spend my time with, or where I live. In a week’s time, that careful balance has been shattered.

The kindness in his dark eyes is surprising, though. There’s something different about him tonight, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. The man I know never had a look that I would call “kind.” Predatory is more like it. Is this the man he really is outside the bedroom? Not that I am complaining. What girl doesn’t like being taken care of?