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A fun memory snuck up on him. “Remember when we used to go dancing?”
Stopping her body rock—so not his intention at all—she turned and smiled that disgracefully sexy grin. “Iused to go dancing.Youused to go into some sort of body fit.”
“I’m an excellent dancer. Unique.”
She cocked her shapely hip, then tilted her head in the other direction like that could even it up. “You had a tendency to blind people within a ten-foot radius with your flailing. I do miss it, though. The dancing, that is.”
He missed it, too, and he had a not-so-sudden urge to get down with her again. In every way. It took him a lust-dazed moment to realize she was saying something.
“Uh, what’s that now?”
“Derry’ll live. Kennedy called to say he had to get seventeen stitches but there was no nerve damage.”
He nodded, hoping it might cover the green tinge of jealousy that was likely shading his cheeks.
“Glad to hear it. Derry’s a good guy.” So his knife skills weren’t quite up to the level Tad would expect from a chef of his stature, but he was solid and dependable and—
“So you really like him, don’t you?”
Surprise at his directness crimped her brow. “Sure. Talking to him is like conversing with your dodgy pizza oven sometimes but he’s a decent bloke.”
“Have you introduced him to Evan yet?” He swallowed, feeling like an idiot but needing to know. “I mean, officially.”
She stared at him for a few heart-pounding seconds before breaking into a raucous laugh.
“Oh, Tad, you are too much.”
“I am?”
She covered her mouth, then decided it was pointless and let rip with another boisterous laugh.
“I am not interested in Derry and even if I was, he would not be interested in me.”
Relief flooded him. “You’re not? He wouldn’t?”
She shook her head slowly, pulling her grin wider with every return. “Derry’s gay.”
“No fuckin’ way.” Derry Jones?TheDerry Jones? “How do you know?”
She threw a wet towel at him. “I know.”
“Doesheknow?”
“He’s not shouting it from the rooftops but he knows.”
Well, well, well. He had never been so thrilled to hear about the sexual orientation of another human being. Weird, but it had been a weird few weeks.
“I owe you a drink for all you did tonight,” he said, unable to keep a grin from conquering his face. Brilliant. Get her smashed.
His little head was trying to call the shots as usual. Showing it who’s boss, he took a leisurely stroll out of the kitchen toward the bar. So leisurely he should be whistling.
She followed, her lush sway undulating in his wake, or that’s how he imagined it with those gluttonous eyes in the back of his head. He didn’t need eyesight to know the glorious line of those hips or how the swell of her breasts filled her blouse. Lucky him! He had memories.
This leisurely thing wasn’t cutting it so he removed himself behind the bar where the evidence of his raging attraction to her could be shielded.
“Forget the drink, you owe me a bottle,” she said.
“Okay, take your pick.”
