“Amie Stuart has a lovely voice that pulls you right in to each story. Throw in some hot sex and Make U Sweat leaves you wanting more.”
~Sunny , bestselling author of Mona Lisa Craving
Jack stood waiting just inside the front door, freshly shaved and dressed in khakis and a crisp green shirt.
“Hope you like jazz.” He pulled me to him for a quick hug, the smell of his aftershave filling my nose, and I relaxed against him, enjoying the brief contact. His arm rested possessively as the base of my spine as he led me deeper in to the club to a tiny table close to the stage and the dance floor.
“What’ll you have?” he asked as he scooted his chair close to mine and sat.
“Scotch on the rocks, please.” I knotted my fingers in my lap and took a deep breath, letting out a flutter of nerves as I glanced around the club. Even though there was no band on stage, jazz music played softly as the couples around us chatted and laughed and nibbled on appetizers.
“I didn’t take you for a scotch and soda lady.”
I shrugged. “I’m just full of surprises.”
“I bet you are.” He gave the waitress our order and his credit card to run a tab, then turned his attention back to me. In the bar’s dim light his warm, intense gaze, the way he seemed so able to give me his undivided attention reminded me of his profession, and I cursed myself. Now was not the time to be thinking of work-his or mine. “Do you dance?”
“Not since high school,” I ruefully confessed.
“I doubt it’s changed much.” He motioned to the few couples swaying gently on the floor.
I lifted the glass the waitress had discretely slipped in front of me and said, “Let me get a few of these down first.”
His expression cooled slightly and he nodded and accepted his own drink with a nod of thanks for the waitress. “So how long have you been in the moving business?”
“Do you really want to talk about my work?”
He gave me a once over that warmed my skin. “I want to know everything about you?”
Why, immediately sprang to my lips but I didn’t say it. “Twenty years.”
“I went to work for my dad at sixteen. Do the math.” I sipped at my drink, letting the chilly liquor course through me.
My foot started tapping as the familiar strains of an old TLC song came on.
Jack glanced under the table, then quirked an eyebrow, a silent invitation to dance.
I hadn’t had near enough to drink but I pushed myself to my feet anyway and put my hand in his, the music to heady to resist.
He was a good dancer, making it easy for me to relax, and we quickly went from a slow grinding sway to something much more suggestive that left us both breathless and laughing.
We stayed for some old LL Cool J, moving back into each other’s arms while he sang about making hot sweet love to someone else’s woman.
I snuggled close, burying my head in the crook of Jack’s neck, while he and the music gently seduced me.
His hands slid down the dip in my back to caress my hips, nibbling away at my resolve to just have a drink and flirt a little. His business casual demeanor hid the soul of a man who knew women, knew how to seduce them, and probably love them, but there’d be no loving for Jack Saunders tonight. At least not the type that required the removal of clothes.
Smiling, I snuggled a little closer.
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