BOOKER, a few minutes ago

I come back from placing a new order and tense when I see no one’s at the table. Okay, Lena’s the only one I’ve been keeping tabs on, and I’ve had to grit my teeth every time she’s danced with another man. I stayed steady, though, and didn’t lose my shit as we liked to say in the trenches, because the songs they danced to were all fast numbers. At the moment, however, the band is playing a sensuous torch song.

I knock back a big swallow of the bourbon I carried back from the bar. Tonight has been a helluva lot more tortuous than I expected when I decided to crash the girls’ night out. Because, damn, I want Lena bad! Sure as hell more than any of the saps she’s been dancing with tonight. She is mine, dammit! She just doesn’t know it yet.

Hell, maybe I’m looking for trouble where none exists. Lena could well be in the ladies’ room. I pull my chair out from the table, swing it around and straddle it.

I’ve barely planted my ass on the seat, when Will plops down on his. Glancing at him, I ask casually, “All the girls out on the dance floor?”

“Yep.” He looks in that direction and says, “Dot and Clara are always easy to pick out, although this particular dance doesn’t require a lot of skill. Oh, and look.” The amused don’t even try to kid a kidder look Will’s used to great effect since we were kids returns. “There’s Lena.”

I can’t stop myself from scanning the floor. Then I see another man holding Lena close and a red mist floods my vision. My first inclination is to stride out onto the floor and rip her from his arms.

But my mother didn’t raise an animal. I take a couple of deep breaths, get a grip on my irrational flash of temper and slap on a pleasant smile. “Excuse me,” I murmur, rising to my feet.

Will’s brows snap together. “Booker...”

“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I assure him. I am even damn near certain I’m telling the truth. Without a backward glance, I make my way to the dance floor where I dodge through the crush of couples slow dancing. Finally, I reach out to gently tap the officer’s shoulder in the age-old signal to cut in. The son of a bitch is holding Lena far too closely, so good on me, as the British soldiers I met overseas use to say.

Hell, yes—just look at me behaving like the adult I quickly became in Europe. It’s amazing how fast you can mature when lives are at stake. I might not feel particularly civilized right this moment, but I sure as hell sound as if I am when I say, “Mind if I cut in?”

He shakes me off. “Yeah. I do.”

I can’t swear to what I would have done next. I like to think I would carry on handling the situation maturely.

But I can’t swear to it.

Luckily for me, Lena saves me from having to find out. She raised her head when I first spoke and peers up at me now over the asshole’s shoulder. She murmurs something in his ear.

The officer’s shoulders stiffen, but he loosens his hold from around Lena and steps back, clearly reluctant.

She gives him a warm smile. “Thank you for the dance, Jeffry.”

The other man’s face softens as he looks down at her. “The pleasure was all mine. Maybe you can give me a make-up dance later?”

“May be.”

He turns away and leaves, but not before shoulder-checking me on his way off the floor. I can live with that—hell, I’m kind of getting used to it when it comes to me and Lena and other men. I hold out my hand. “May I have this dance?”

And release the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding when she steps in, placing one hand in mine and sliding the other up my chest to curl over my shoulder. I tug her in, closing my eyes for a moment at the sweet feel of her body pressed to mine. Then tighten my arm around her waist to tug her closer yet.

Given the volume of the music, I can’t actually hear her sharply indrawn breath in reaction to our close-pressed bodies. Yet I sense she has done exactly that by the slight, but abrupt rise of her breasts against my chest before she slowly exhales. And I feel truly content for the first time in... hell, I’m not sure how long. But a whole lot lengthier period than I realized until just this moment.

Swaying and barely moving in the simple, tightly limited pattern keeping us close, I slide my hand up her back to hold her even nearer yet, my fingers splayed wide to soak in as much of her plush heat as possible through the thin material of her dress. I tuck our entwined hands against my chest.

And my heart gives a great big thump when she rests her temple against my jaw in the same taller man/smaller woman cheek to cheek alternative she’d danced in with the officer I stole this dance from. The longer I hold her in my arms, in fact, the surer I am our heartbeats are beating in sync.

A wave of her hair not far from my lips is soft and fragrant. It slides against my jaw when random strands aren’t catching on the faint stubble that has grown since this morning. I have a kit at the club, but didn’t even think about re-shaving until it was too late to do anything about it.

Lena doesn’t appear to mind.

The dance ends far too soon. I wish it would segue into another slow number, but the band plays the opening bars to a Lindy Hop tune. Reluctantly releasing Lena, I place a light hand on the small of her back and steer her back to our table. When she refuses to meet my gaze, I bend my knees until I can look her in the eye. “Thank you for the dance.”

She flashes me a tiny smile. “You’re welcome. I... enjoyed it.” Then she steps back. “You’ll have to excuse me, though. I need to—” She jerks her head toward the hallway hosting the restrooms.

“Sure.” I step back, but keep an eye on her as she heads in that direction.

Which is how I see her veer off toward the club’s entrance. When she pushes through the door, I swear beneath my breath, grab her coat off the back of her chair and follow. Because, Jesus. She’s going out into the dark parking lot from which men have been coming and going all night?

Yeah, no. Not on her own, she isn’t.

Not while I have breath in my body.