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Twenty minutes later, he finally spotted Melodie standing at one of the three bars in the establishment. He welcomed the rush of relief pouring through him, grateful that she hadn’t decided to go to another nightclub instead of the one Noah had recommended.
She was facing the bartender as she ordered a drink, and he moved closer to get a better look at her, deliberately keeping himself concealed in the crush of patrons as he neared. The strobe lights alternately illuminated her, giving him flashing glimpses of her shiny brown hair with auburn highlights as well as a partial glimpse of the outfit she wore. The strappy dress was made of some kind of beige, stretchy material that clung to her shape, making him wonder if she was even wearing a bra beneath. Or panties for that matter. He certainly couldn’t detect any obtrusive lines along her backside that would indicate otherwise.
Ignoring the stirring of desire smoldering to life inside him, he frowned as he caught sight of something colorful on her upper shoulder, a shape that looked suspiciously like a butterfly in flight. He blew out a deep breath as he drew the only conclusion available—she’d gotten herself a tattoo. No doubt her own personal statement of rebellion and independence.
Merging back into the crowd, he swore a colorful stream of expletives, knowing he was partially responsible for driving her to this extreme by rejecting her advances. She was turning defiant, reckless and wild, and who knew what she’d do next to prove to herself and everyone around her that she was a bold, aggressive kind of woman who could handle anything and anyone.
And it appeared she was going to make her point with the good-looking guy with sandy-blond hair who’d just sidled up to the bar next to her. Before she could open the small purse hanging from her shoulder to pay for the drink the bartender had just delivered, the other man doled out the cash to cover her bill. Her lips moved with the words “thank you,” and she graced him with a sweet smile that made Cole feel as though he’d been sucker punched in the belly. He felt a slow burn of jealousy that he immediately tried to dismiss. And failed.
The other man bent toward her to say something directly into her ear, and Melodie laughed in response and nodded her head. With a hand pressing against the small of her back, the man led her to a table near the back of the club where two other guys were already sitting and welcomed her into their group.
Seeing the potential for trouble, Cole moved to the outer fringes of the room where he could keep his presence concealed while he continued his surveillance. Alternately, he watched the guys at the table and kept an eye on her drink when one of them whisked her off to the dance floor to enjoy the entertainment.
For the next hour and a half Cole monitored the situation from afar. From what he’d observed, none of the men crossed the line with Melodie in a way that would prompt him to intervene, though he didn’t care for the touches and casual caresses that passed between her and a few of the guys, or the sensual way Melodie moved as she danced that drew too many appreciative stares. While he was miserable and cranky and resenting the men who dared to touch her, she was having a great time—dancing and laughing and thoroughly enjoying herself and the company she kept.
From Cole’s last count, she’d consumed five drinks and was working on her sixth, which no doubt accounted for her carefree, bubbly and enthusiastic attitude. He stared into the depths of his third plain cola on the rocks, wishing he could indulge in something stronger to take the edge off the frustration and other inexplicable emotions raging inside him.
He downed the rest of his drink and set his empty glass at the end of the bar. When he glanced back in the direction he’d last seen Melodie, he frowned, realizing he’d lost sight of her. She was no longer out on the dance floor with the blond-haired guy who’d bought her first drink.
A huge wave of unease twisted inside him. Maneuvering his way past clusters of people, he swept the place with a shrewd glance in an effort to locate Melodie. Within minutes he’d scanned the entire area, but hadn’t found her or her date. A frantic sensation gripped him and made his heart thunder in his chest, and his worst fear clawed its way to the surface—she’d gone home with the guy.
“Shit!” Dragging a hand along his clenched jaw, he looked over at the table where the other men had been sitting with Melodie, only to find all of them gone, as well. His stomach cramped even worse at all the possible, dreadful scenarios starting a mad dash through his over imaginative brain.
So much for Richard trusting him to keep an eye on his daughter! He’d taken his gaze off of her for two minutes and she’d left, intoxicated, with men she didn’t even know. How the fuck was he going to explain such an unforgivable blunder to her father?
The scorching imprint of a very feminine body pressed up against his backside, and he stiffened as slender hands and arms slipped around his waist. Before he could turn around, she stood up on tiptoe, causing her full, soft breasts to rub along his spine, and whispered huskily in his ear, “Looking for someone?”
He identified the sultry voice as Melodie’s, and his aroused body instinctively recognized her unique scent and lush curves and responded accordingly. Grasping her wrists, he whirled around and scowled at her, both relieved to find her safe and unharmed, and furious that she’d turned him inside out with worry for her welfare.
She swayed into him, catching her balance with her hands against his solid chest. Her soft, warm lips touched the shell of his ear, and he shuddered with awareness as her damp breath feathered against the sensitive skin just below his lobe. His heartbeat quickened, as did a certain masculine part of his body.
“You don’t look like you’re having a very good time,” she said over the throbbing beat of the music, her throaty voice infused with a taunting amount of amusement.
“I’m having a great time,” he forced out through gritted teeth, then pulled in a deep, rational breath. “Where’s your date?”
One smooth, bare shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “He left with his friends to go to a different nightclub.” Lashes falling half-mast, she played with the buttons down the front of his shirt, her index finger slowly making its way lower.
Shoring his defenses against her bold exploration, he caught her wandering hand and lifted it back up to his chest. “I think it’s time you left, too.” He’d take her home and let her sleep off the effects of the alcohol.
Her bottom lip curled into a pout that contradicted the defiant tilt of her chin. “I’m not ready to leave yet. I’m enjoying myself too much, though I think we ought to loosen you up a bit.”
“I don’t think so,” he said gruffly.
She blinked languidly and met his gaze, her own eyes glowing a deep brown hue rimmed in brilliant shards of gold. Her hair was tousled like burnished fire around her head, and her full, glossy lips tapped into primitive and dominant male urges he was doing his damnedest to keep confined behind a facade of control.
Lifting her hand, she smoothed her fingers along his taut jaw and trailed the tips to the back of his neck, setting his senses on fire. “You look very, very tense, and I have just the cure.” Her mouth curled into one of those seductive smiles that had been his downfall twice before. “Come dance with me,” she beckoned.
She was a witch, and this time he wasn’t about to let her cast her spell on him. “No.”
The one word was spoken abruptly and loud enough that two other women cast a curious glance their way. Unfortunately, his very vocal refusal did nothing to deter Melodie from satisfying her own desires. “I want to dance, Cole. With you.”
Her hand dropped to the waistband of his jeans, and she hooked two fingers into his belt loop. Turning toward the mob of people on the dance floor
, she tugged at him to follow, leaving him with only two options…to accompany her, or take the risk of her ripping his pants off.
Keeping in mind how many drinks she’d consumed, he opted to follow her instead of drawing attention to them with a struggle or argument. She dragged him into the middle of writhing bodies gyrating to the provocative beat of the music. Cole had never been keen on dancing, and he decided he wasn’t about to start now. He stood there in the crush of people, willing to suffer through one song so Melodie could get the urge to dance out of her system. Then he would haul her out of the place and take her home.
There wasn’t much room to maneuver without bumping into someone, and Melodie took advantage of their close proximity. Encircling her arms around his neck, she drew him as close as two bodies could get with their clothes on, from her breasts all the way down to her knees, and moved against him, slowly and rhythmically, in a way that was completely, inherently sexual.
