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Movie star? Rockstar? Model?
His clothes skimmed his body like they’d paid for the privilege. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist and hips, but then again, expensive clothes could do a lot for a person.
If this worked out, I’d see this stranger naked.
Did I really want to see him naked?
Well…yes.
But did I really want a stranger touching me? No. Not even so my husband could watch.
The idea was terrifying rather than thrilling, but I would do anything for Valor, up to and including making a fool of myself. It had always been that way with us, and he had rarely steered me wrong.
I shifted closer to the stranger a bit at a time, trying to make my approach look accidental, but probably failing miserably. By the time I was in front of him, I’d been on the dance floor for at least ten minutes. I tried to pretend we were dancing together, but his eyes stayed closed. I glanced back over my shoulder, and Valor was taking a casual sip of his drink, but his eyes were sharp, fastened on me, like they almost always were.
He was eagerly waiting for me to make my move. I could see a hint of his arousal in his jeans, and I gave him the most coquettish smile I could muster, even though I felt like I was going to throw up.
As I turned back to the stranger, the man’s eyes snapped open, and he stopped dancing.
God—his eyes. They were so pale they were almost silver. His gaze wasunnerving.
“Can I help you?” he demanded, his accent faint and sexy, albeit irritable.
French?
I grimaced and bit my bottom lip. “I’m…sorry. Do you want to be alone?”
He turned to walk off the dance floor, but snagged my hand as he did so, pulling me along with him. Surprised and a bit alarmed, I trotted after him, hoping he wasn’t planning to drag me down the hall to a bathroom, or worse, out into an alleyway. Valor would love that, but I wasn’t prepared for anything so public. I had a career to think about.
As soon as we were off the dance floor, he headed for a quieter corner. At least he hadn’t pulled me towards the door.
“Did Martine send you?” His tone was suspicious.
I blinked at him. “Who?”
He studied my face. Wow. His eyes really were disturbing. They were strange, wolf eyes, and they made me feel like Little Red Riding Hood. It would make perfect sense if a man this beautiful was some sort of paranormal creature, like a werewolf or vampire. Men like this didn’t converse with mere mortals.
“Never mind. What can I do for you?”
Yes, he was definitely French, but his English was flawless other than the accent.
“We were wondering if we could buy you a drink,” Valor said, coming up behind me. I’d expected him any minute, considering he’d never left me undefended in all the years I’d known him.
“Why would I accept a drink from not one, but two strangers?” He leveled his gaze on Valor, but my husband was used to dealing with powerful, suspicious men.
“I don’t think we’ve ever seen you around before.”
“Is there a rule against strangers being here?”
“No, of course not. I’m sure the club would go out of business if new people stopped showing up.” Valor chuckled, but the other man didn’t even smile politely. It was interesting seeing the two of them standing together. The stranger was tall and forbidding, with longish dark hair, while Valor looked like he could’ve been the star quarterback at our high school. He’d always been too busy for anything other than his ambitions. It was how we’d gone from teenagers living off of macaroni and cheese in a shitty apartment, to being where we were now, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight.
The stranger’s expression held the sort of ennui one would expect from an immortal. “What do you want?”
“Why come here if you don’t want to socialize?” Valor asked.
“The same reason as everyone else—the energy.”
Valor signaled for a server. He ordered another drink for himself but I shook my head. There was no way I was drinking more tonight. He raised an eyebrow at the stranger who gave a dismissive flick of his fingers.
