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“I don’t like him,” Steve said, leaning closer to me. “You know nothing about him.”
“I’m not marrying him,” I said. “I’m dancing with him.”
He sighed. “I care about you, Mira. I don’t want you to be hurt. That’s all.”
“I’m a big girl,” I said and glanced away. When the music shifted to another song, I was happy to stop dancing. I turned and went back to the bar, unsure if Steve was even following me.
Beckett was standing by himself at the bar, a fresh beer in his hand for me. I joined him and took the beer and we tapped bottles together lightly. He smiled while we each took a sip.
“Is he keeping watch over you?” Beckett said lightly.
“He thinks he’s my big brother,” I said and rolled my eyes.
Then, I forgot about Steve and stepped closer to Beckett. He also moved closer as well, his face just a few inches from mine.
“You’re a good dancer,” he said.
“You’re not too bad yourself.”
We smiled into each other’s eyes.
Damn… There was nothing about this man I didn’t like.
“Why not leave with me tonight?” he said, his elbow on the bar. “I promise to take you away from all this and make sure you don’t regret it.” Then he reached out and ran the backs of his fingers over my bottom lip, bending down and then kissing me, his mouth warm on mine.
We kissed for a long moment and my knees were weak with the prospect of finding out what he meant. When he pulled back, ending the kiss, I looked around for Leah, but she was on the dance floor with her tall dark and handsome stranger. Steve was standing a few people down at the bar. I caught him watching us, and he quickly glanced away.
When I turned back to Leah, she caught my eye as the song ended and came back before I could respond, laughing, her man trailing behind her, hand in hand.
“Hey, Mira!” She pulled him over. “This is Brandon. Brandon, this is my best friend Mira.”
I smiled at Brandon “Nice to meet you.” I turned to Beckett, who was watching me from over the top of his beer. “This is Beckett,” I said and pointed to him.
“Mr. McNeil and I are old friends,” Brandon said.
I glanced at Brandon and then at Beckett. “McNeil?” I said, frowning. My back stiffened. “Strange how I thought you were
Cajun, not Irish...”
Had he lied to me? I saw his ID…
“I’m American. First Generation,” Beckett said. “Father was born in Northern Ireland, and I was born in Hell’s Kitchen. My parents separated when I was ten and I used my mother’s maiden name, which is Tate,” he said to Brandon, who nodded. “I use it for my business even though my legal name is McNeil.”
“Of course,” Brandon said and hit his forehead. “I forgot. Beckett Tate.” He turned to me almost pointedly. “We knew each other in the Marines.”
After a round of hellos, we stood there in silence. I didn’t know what to say. Had he lied? Or was it a case of using his mother’s name the way he said? He did say he had too many names…
Brandon took Leah’s hand and pulled her back towards the dance floor. “You said you wanted to dance your head off. Let’s go.”
She winked at me and the two left Beckett and me alone.
I didn’t know what to think but at that moment, I felt a sense of hesitation about any plans to go back to Beckett’s hotel to ‘talk.’
As if he sensed this, Beckett leaned in and whispered in my ear. “The music’s too loud. Want to get out of here and go someplace quieter? More … intimate?”
Steve’s warning came back to me. “I don’t know what to believe about you. CEO? DEA? McNeil? Who are you – really?”
“I told you I have too many names,” Beckett said. “I use Tate now, for my business, but back when I was in the Marines, I went by my legal name, which is McNeil. I didn’t mean to deceive you. It’s just complicated…”
