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Panda plowed through the crowd and gave the punk a nudge on the shoulder. “Get lost.”
She turned her head just far enough to lift her phony-pierced eyebrow at him, then tightened her hold on the kid’s neck and stuck her lips near his earlobe. “Ignore him. He’s not as tough as he looks.”
Panda didn’t have to stare at the kid more than a few seconds before the kid figured out that wasn’t true. The boy broke Lucy’s hold. “Later, okay?”
Lucy watched the kid hurry off, then glared at Panda. “Go away,” she shouted over the music. “I’m drunk, and I was just getting ready to make out with him.”
He gritted his teeth. “Congratulations. At this rate, you’ll be done with your list in no time.”
She stomped her metal-studded shoe. “Damn it, he’s leaving, and I was going to sleep with him. Now it’ll have to be the greyhound.”
Like hell. He didn’t know who the greyhound was, only that this she-devil wasn’t sleeping with anybody but him tonight. “Here’s the thing, babe … I don’t share my woman.”
She looked way too outraged. “I’m not your woman. And I’m not your babe!”
He kissed her before she could say any more. She tasted like booze and cinnamon lipstick. But she didn’t throw herself into the kiss the way he wanted. Instead she nipped his bottom lip with her teeth and backed off. “Nice try, Patrick, but no dice. I’m partying with new friends, and you aren’t invited.”
“Hold on. You told me you wanted to make out in public.”
“And you said you wouldn’t.”
“Changed my mind.” He was a shitty dancer, but he figured what she’d been doing wasn’t exactly dancing, so he pulled her against him.
She refused to cooperate. “Buy me a drink first.”
“You’ve had enough.”
She glued her feet to the ground. “No drink, no dance. Get me a kamikaze.”
He gritted his teeth and stalked over to the bar. “Make me something that tastes like a kamikaze,” he told a female bartender who looked like a prison guard. “But without the booze.”
“What are you?” she growled. “Some kind of religious nut?”
“Just make the damned drink.”
The final concoction tasted more like an orange Popsicle than a real kamikaze, but maybe Lucy wouldn’t notice. He spotted her perched on some guy’s lap. The kid was tall and almost comically skinny, with a long nose and longer neck. The greyhound.
He bought himself a beer and sauntered over to the table. The greyhound saw him coming and got up so fast he nearly dumped her. Panda nodded at him and handed Lucy her drink. “I see you’re up to your old tricks, babe.”
She gave him the stink eye.
“A word of advice, boys …” He sipped his beer. “Check your wallets before you let her get away. She can’t help herself.”
As they reached for their pockets, he set down his beer and pulled her back to the dance floor, where the band had launched into an off-key ballad. She smirked at him. “No need to make out with me. Like I told you, I’ve already done that. With two of them.”
“I’m impressed.” He cupped his hands around her butt and moved his mouth closer to her ear. “How about getting felt up in public? Is that on your list, too?”
“No, but …”
He squeezed. “You should put it there.”
He was hoping for a little embarrassment on her part, but he didn’t see it. He backed her to the wall next to a wooden whale and kissed the hell out of her. This time he got a reaction. She wrapped her arms around his neck, right where they belonged. She seemed a little dazed, or maybe that was him. He tugged at her earlobe with his lips. “Let’s get out of here.”
She acted as though he’d dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. “No way, dude. I’m staying.”
“Think again, dude,” he retorted. “You’re going with me.”
“And how exactly are you going to pull that off?”
