A text on my cell forces an eye roll and a sigh.
Don’t be late.
If. I. Come.
Dick. Get your ass over here.
You’re seriously a pain in my ass.
I weigh my options. I have nothing harder than beer in my apartment.
Fuck, at least I can drink on his dime.
Even though it only takes me minutes to look presentable, I delay and procrastinate more than necessary. I’ll make Rob sweat a little.
When I arrive at the club, I’m over a half hour late. I develop an instant headache from the pounding music that can be heard out on the street.
Fucking Rob.
If I can get through these setups without killing him, I always consider it a major personal accomplishment. I do like a challenge.
The line wraps around the block. It’s a good thing Andrea is in the promotions business because there’s no way I’d wait in that line. My badge could easily get me in, but I never advertise I’m a cop unless I have to.
There are hundreds of idiots standing out front waiting to get into this joint. The probability is slim, yet they still stand pathetically waiting for their chance. The bouncer eyes me suspiciously as I saunter up to him, instead of heading to the back of the line.
“Line’s that way, buddy,” he offers with a flick of his thumb.
“Ben Stone. I’m on the list.”
He sizes me up before glancing down at his clipboard. The man is big, but I would welcome the opportunity to show him what I could accomplish with my attitude.
He searches, slower than needed, and finds my name. Without a word, he unclips the velvet rope and grants my access. I don’t even thank him because I couldn’t give a shit.
As I walk through the dark entryway, my phone buzzes with a text.
Where the hell are you? When you get here, we’re in the back left corner.
The club is dark, and the only light comes from the punishing strobes drawing attention to the writhing bodies on the dance floor. Dance clubs are not my scene. When I am in the mood to let off some steam, I prefer a local pub or a dive bar in my neighborhood.
I don’t even bother searching for Rob or Andrea. Instead, I head straight for the bar in the opposite corner. I need some liquid courage. I also want to observe from afar in case I need to make a hasty exit. Of course the bar is three deep. I eye a gap in between two chicks that are clearly on the prowl. They look up at me when I approach and sit up straighter.
“Hi, ladies. Mind if I scoot in to order a drink?”
“Not at all,” the blonde responds while smiling cunningly. She licks her lips like I’m her prey about to be eaten.
I get the hot bartender’s attention, order two shots, and proceed to down them as quickly as she pours.
“Rough day?” chick number one asks as I retrieve my wallet to pay.
“Yep.”
“Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”
Her pale blue eyes are fringed with the heaviest fake lashes I’ve ever seen. They give her a cartoon-like appearance as she waits expectantly for my response.
“My boyfriend just broke up with me,” I answer with a poker face, waiting for her reaction. Just as they always do when I use that excuse, her eyebrows quirk up, and her smile turns to an instant frown. I could easily use a different excuse, but I love shocking people.
“His loss,” she replies, not deterred at all.
“Yeah, I agree. I plan on finding the first hot man to forget his name.” I look around feigning confusion. “Not sure I’ll have luck. I thought this place was a gay bar.”
She places a hand on my arm. “If you’d like to switch teams for a night, I’m a great coach.”
Patting her hand, I say, “I’m sure you are.” I can feel their eyes on my back when I walk away.
I find a dark corner and inspect the room. From my location, I’m able to scan the mass of heads, looking for the two familiar heads that forced me here. I catch a glimpse of Rob leaning in to kiss Andrea’s cheek. Next to them is a stunning brunette. She is petite, shorter than Andrea. I watch like a creeper from my corner as she laughs and engages with them. Her facial expressions are relaxed. Her smile is genuine. I can’t see her below the neck, and my curiosity is getting the best of me. I watch for a few more minutes before making my way to their corner. As I approach, Rob gives me an annoyed look, and Andrea smiles widely. The brunette’s smile fades and her expression morphs into one of boredom upon my arrival.
Well played, I think to myself. I would’ve done the same.
“Hey, Barbie,” I say before kissing Andrea on the cheek.
She smacks my arm and responds, “You’re late.”
“Traffic.” I give my normal excuse.
“Why do you call her Barbie?” my “date” asks, even before being introduced.
My response is to measure her up. The body I was curious to see doesn’t disappoint. She is smoking hot. At six foot two, she’s a full head shorter than me, even in heels. Her hair is dark brown, almost black. She’s curvy and beautiful. Perfect. Except for a scar that runs along the side of her neck, she’s flawless. I slowly drag my eyes back up to her big brown ones. Our similar coloring makes us look like we could be siblings.
I still haven’t responded to her question. She raises her brow expectantly, and then folds her arms over her chest. I watch the motion, allowing my gaze to linger on the swell of her breasts trapped under the weight of her forearms. I continue my perusal as my eyes travel up her neck, stop at her lips, and then I finally acknowledge her glare.
The acceptable amount of time to answer her question comes and goes, and I continue to stare at her. I’m not sure if I’m trying to intimidate her, but it’s obviously not working.
In an attempt to diffuse the tension, Rob clears his throat and Andrea answers for me. “He calls us Barbie and Ken. Thinks he’s cute.”
My date laughs spontaneously, quickly schooling her features. “He’s right.”
“Oh, not you, too.” Andrea shakes her head in mock annoyance. “Ben Stone, this is Ella Parker. Ella, Ben.”
She thrusts her hand toward me, not at all intimidated by my obvious perusal of her body. I take her small hand in mine and shake it slowly.
“Nice to meet you. For the record, I wanted no part of this night…but since Andrea is my boss, I didn’t have a choice,” she admits, and I’m impressed with her honesty.
“What a coincidence, neither did I,” I throw back at her while still shaking her hand.
She pulls her hand free from mine, and continues to measure me up. “So why are you here?”
“Free drinks.”
She turns toward Andrea and asks, “If we both wanted no part of this, why are we here?”
Andrea shrugs and dismisses her with a wave of her hand. “You both have no clue what you want, and you need an intervention.”
“You two have a lot in common,” Rob adds, putting his two cents in.
I look directly into Ella’s eyes, and she matches my unwavering stare. “Does that mean that Ella also wants to punch you in the face?” I ask Rob, maintaining my eye contact with Ella.
A corner of her full lips quirk up, otherwise she shows no emotion whatsoever.
“Asshole,” Rob mumbles.
I drag my eyes away from Ella. “Buy us a round, or we both walk.”
“Fine, but only because it’s your birthday,” he responds with an excuse he knows will piss me off.
“Happy Birthday,” she offers. A look passes over her features, almost as if she regrets her aloofness.
“Thanks.”
Rob calls the waitress over and orders our drinks. Conversation is very awkward until the drinks arrive. Andrea and Rob both desperately try to get us to engage in small talk, but we both stubbornly refuse.
“Happy Birthday, Ben.”
“You got off easy with beer. I wanted the good stuff.”
“Starting us off slow,” he responds and quickly continues. “Ella, did you know that Ben is a Black Belt in Taekwondo?”
I watch Ella watching me. “I do now.” She doesn’t look away embarrassed or giddily as girls often do. She meets my gaze, showing no intimidation at all. This girl has balls, and it is refreshing to see.
Undeterred, Rob says, “Ben, did you know that Ella is training to be a Black Belt?” He smirks after giving us another fun fact.
Shit, that’s hot.
I measure her up from head to toe. She’s petite. I would pay money to see her take someone my size down. The visual has my jeans feeling snug over my junk.
Andrea’s giggle forces us both to look over at her at the same time.
“See, perfect for each other. You live in the same neighborhood. You have similar personalities. Just think of how gorgeous your babies would be.” She turns toward Rob and pleads, “Dance with me?”
The two of them scamper off like the rats that they are. Ella focuses on the dance floor, slowly sipping her wine, and promptly ignores me as I stand a few feet away. I’m in quite a conundrum. If I had met her at this bar, there isn’t a doubt that I would’ve tried to pick her up. She’s my type. She’s feisty and arrogant and would make the perfect one-night stand. Damn Rob and Andrea, because now I can’t even act on my primal desires. Andrea is her fucking boss.
But…I can have some innocent fun.
I step closer, invading her personal space. She glances sideways at me as I do. “Do you dance, Ella?”
“Yes.”
I leave the insinuation hanging between us.
Being a cop, I’m very intuitive, and I’m a pro at reading people. Her cockiness and indifference is a complete front. Her eyes dilate just enough for me to know she’s attracted to me. The breaths she drags in are deep enough to contradict the bored look on her face. My proximity taunts her just enough to cause her to fiddle with the stem of her wine glass.
Refusing to step back to my side of the table, I remain in her personal space and quietly watch the dance floor. Each time I raise my beer, my arm brushes against hers. Each time the hairs on her arm stand up straighter.
After the fourth time, she says, “There is like a ten foot circumference of empty space around this table.”
I look down at her, returning her gaze for a few seconds before leaning in. “But then I’d have to shout,” I respond with my lips an inch away from her ear. Her perfume assaults me. It makes me wonder where she dabbed it when she was getting ready to come here tonight…behind her ear, on her wrists, possibly between her tits?
She turns her head, so we are practically nose-to-nose. “I promised Andrea that I’d come here tonight to meet you. I promised I’d smile and play nice. I did not promise to spread my legs and swoon from your pathetic attempts at flirting or whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
She folds her arms defiantly after I laugh at her little speech.
“Noted.”
“Good. Just so we’re clear. Like you, I also feel the least we can get out of this night is a good buzz.” She offers her hand and asks, “Deal?”
“Deal,” I repeat, taking her small hand in mine. When she tries to remove her hand, I tighten my grip.
When the music changes, Andrea and Rob return to witness me still shaking Ella’s hand. “Are you two getting along okay?” Andrea asks, grinning from the contact between us.
“Not really. We need more fuel,” I answer, pointing to my empty beer bottle and Ella’s empty wine glass.
Andrea turns to Rob and shouts, “Babe, get us another round, please!”
Ella and I exchange a conspiratorial smirk.
Over the course of the next two hours, I learn enough about Ella to know she’s hiding something, mainly because I didn’t learn a whole lot. In all fairness, she doesn’t learn a whole lot about me either. She doesn’t ask questions, another hint that she isn’t interested in opening up. To ask questions is to be willing to answer them. Andrea’s right, we are very similar. If I didn’t know she worked with Andrea in the promotions field, I’d think she was also a cop. She has that cop aura.
Rob tells her about some of our funnier moments on the force. She smiles as she listens, and even laughs out loud as he paints a vivid picture of a transvestite who tried to get out of an arrest by offering his/her services to me.
I watch in silence. My only contribution to the night is to keep watching Ella. A popular club song prompts the female population to squeal and make their way over to the cramped dance floor.
“I love this song. Let’s dance,” Andrea slurs and tugs on Ella’s arm. She drags a giggling Ella toward the chaos. From my position, I watch them find a corner on the packed floor, immediately moving to the music. Ella’s confidence shows in her dancing, or it could be the alcohol. She isn’t shy or timid in her moves, and fuck can she move.
“She’s hot, isn’t she?” Rob screams directly into my ear. The liquor on his breath hits me in the face. He pulls away, grinning like an ass. “Andrea’s right. You’d make really pretty babies.”
“For fuck’s sake, Rob. I’m not interested, and she’s not interested. All the more reason for you and your meddling girlfriend to back off.” Watching Ella, the amount of booze I’ve consumed, and the tightness in my pants all have me in a bad mood. I drain my beer and add, “I’m outta here.”
“What? Where are you going?”
“I’m exhausted and we have to be in early tomorrow.” I lie. Night off or not, I never allow myself to lose control out in public. If I don’t leave now, I’m dangerously close to that happening.
I walk toward the dance floor, leaving him calling, “Dude! BEN!”
Andrea sees me approaching first and grins like a fool. She moves aside, assuming I’m coming to cut in. The music makes it difficult to say what I need to without having to once again get right into Ella’s personal space.
“It was nice meeting you,” I say with my lips pressed against her ear. Her scent is intoxicating. On impulse, I brush her hair aside and place a soft kiss below her ear. In spite of the thunderous noise surrounding us, I can still hear her gasp. When I straighten, she looks up at me through hooded eyes. Her lips part and another impulse to kiss her slowly creeps through me. I need to walk away before my drunken logic blurs the lines I don’t want to cross. Under different circumstances, I’d enjoy running my tongue around the curve of her bottom lip. I may have even pulled her back into my chest to feel the moves she made on this dance floor first hand.
Not tonight…not ever.
Instead, I wave at Andrea and walk away, leaving all temptations behind.