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“Yeah.” She dropped his bag onto the down comforter. “Together.”
Denver gave her one of his wide, carefree grins. “Sweet.”
“But dancing is my favorite.”
It wasn’t Natasha’s enunciation of favorite (fave-oh-right) that annoyed Jayson so much as the whine that accompanied it.
She was a beautiful woman with scads of confidence. She was educated and outgoing. She didn’t drink alcohol. She was polite to everyone she met.
But.
She was needy and clingy and driving him up the wall. He’d danced with her. And danced. And danced.
He unwound his date’s fingers from his forearm. “Natasha. No means no.”
She thrust out her bottom lip. It didn’t make her any less attractive.
He offered a tolerant smile and gentled his voice. “If I don’t have a cigar with Brannon, he’s going to kick my ass.”
She let out a sharp gasp. “Cigars cannot touch this mouth.”
“It’s just one,” he said, instead of so, what? There wasn’t a single spark of attraction between them, though sleeping with her had crossed his mind. If for no other reason than to take his mind off his ex-wife, who was swishing around here in a short dress with enough cleavage to fall into.
He’d bet Denver noticed. Jayson sawed his teeth together.
“No kissing,” Natasha hissed before she scampered off. The band played a fast song and she grabbed hold of a geriatric gentleman and started dancing with him. Jayson seemed to remember that guy from a board meeting. Anyway, the old guy looked happier than Jay was about the dancing, so they could have at it.
Outside, he found Bran standing in a half circle with a few other guys from work.
“There he is.” Bran handed over a cigar and cutter. “Where’s your supermodel date? Did she finally realize what a loser you were and ditch you?”
“She’s dancing.” Some more.
“Gia and Denver Pippen?” Bran asked around the cigar between his teeth. “What’s that about?”
Jayson cut and lit his own cigar. He took a long puff and blew out his answer. “Wish I knew.”
“Haven’t seen them in a while. Did they leave?”
Jayson welded his back teeth together. “I think they’re staying.”
More like he knew they were staying. At the end of the hall. He saw her go upstairs earlier. If she’d met Denver in that room, Jayson had a good idea what they were doing right now.
He shouldn’t care, but when it came to Gia, married or not, he’d always had the fierce desire to protect her. Denver seemed harmless—the sports star probably did more damage to himself than he’d ever do to another person—but she might need a reminder that she didn’t have to wander that far down the evolutionary scale to rummage up a date.
“Huh.” Bran sent a derisive look at the second floor of the house where a few bedroom lights were on. Gia’s brother didn’t go on a rant about her and Denver, and Jayson understood. Bran was close friends with Jay, had been for years, but if he had to choose sides, Bran would choose Gia. That was the way it should be.
“How’s Addi? She holding on to that baby a while longer?” Jayson asked, segueing as seamlessly as possible.
“She’s taking it easy tonight. Other than a few kicks to the beat of the music, she says the baby is content to wait.” Bran’s smile was contagious. “God, I can’t wait to meet her. My daughter.”
“Me too.” Jay slapped him heartily on the shoulder. Brannon and Royce were family. Being divorced from Gia hadn’t changed that. After they’d split, she’d insisted no one treat Jayson differently. The only one unable to follow that request was Gia herself. She’d been aloof and cool for the most part. Exception being at this very house about six months ago...
“Gentlemen,” Royce greeted them upon his approach. He was still dressed in his tux, the formality suiting him. Taylor, in her formfitting lace wedding gown, a scooped V in the front and back, wore a tired smile.
“Cigar?” Bran offered Taylor.
“Shut up.” She gave her brother-in-law a playful slap before fussing with a drooping ring of flowers in her hair. “I’m falling apart.”
