Jill Shalvis - New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess

She shook her head and walked to him. “So what you’re saying is that you don’t feel anything when you look at me. Other than…friendship.”

He flattened himself to the door. “That’s right. That’s all I feel.”

On her tiptoes now, because he was very tall, she touched his rock hard jaw. “If you’re sure,” she whispered.

He groaned again, and beneath the hand she’d rested on his chest, she felt his every muscle tense. “And friends don’t…don’t touch,” he grated out.

The intercom buzzed, startling them both, and Cookie’s voice filled the air from the intercom. “Becca? Was that you that came through here a minute ago?”

Becca backed away from Kent and at the loss of her incredible body heat, he drew a careful breath.

What was happening?

“It’s me,” Becca said to the intercom, her eyes still on Kent’s.

He meant to look away, but couldn’t. He had no will left, it was busy warring between his need to grab and kiss her and run like hell.

Running seemed like a much smarter move.

“Well let me say, you look fab,” Cookie said.

“Thanks.” Becca blushed.

Kent had just enough blood left in his brain to find her embarrassment amusing. Yes, she was much more beautiful than he’d ever imagined, but that didn’t mean anything because they weren’t involved. Not at all. Not even one little bit. He cared for her, maybe more than he meant to, but he could control that.

No involvement with someone he cared about. None.

But because he did care, he waited until Cookie had clicked off the intercom and said, “Okay, come clean. What’s your next adventure?”

“Why?”

“I want you to be careful, that’s all.”

“Careful is my middle name.”

“This isn’t funny, Becca. You’re not going to a club, right? Because men are slime, trust me on this.”

“All men?”

“Most definitely all men.”

She actually looked intrigued by that but before they could discuss it, Dennis poked his head in and grinned at her. “Just wanted to tell you, I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear your dancing shoes.”

Becca frowned. “Dennis-”

The door shut again, effectively cutting off whatever she’d been about to say.

Slowly, she let out her breath.

“Slime,” Kent repeated. “Complete slime.”

THE CLUB WAS PACKED. First of all, it was a new place, and secondly, the hors d’oeuvres were on special. There was nothing the locals enjoyed more than a good deal.

Oh, and the band was hot.

That’s what the guy at the door told him. Kent reserved judgment, or attempted to as the big band sound from the forties bombarded his eardrums.

He preferred good old-fashioned rock and roll.

He had no business being here, but he’d been unable to think of anything except Becca being taken advantage of. He hoped to God she hurried up and got this adventure thing out of her system soon, because frankly it was exhausting trying to save her.

It took him a moment to adjust to the lighting, and then he wished he hadn’t. On the dance floor, in the arms of a friend he suddenly wanted to slug, was Becca. She had on one of those black, shimmery, mouth-watering, body-hugging dresses he had been drooling over just yesterday from her catalogue. Just like in the glossy pages, the spaghetti straps and scooped neck, snug body and short skirt were all systematically designed to drive a man insane with wanting.

Dennis had one hand on the small of her back, nudging her close so that there wasn’t a spec of light between their two bodies. His other hand held Becca’s as they gyrated to the music.

Becca’s face was flushed with her smile of concentration, and she nodded at whatever little secret Dennis was whispering in her ear.

Rejecting a server’s offer of a drink, Kent strode directly onto the dance floor. The music changed tempo, from lightning fast to soft and slow. Great, he thought with a groan. Make-out music.

Becca was a sitting duck.

Over her head, Dennis saw Kent coming, and winked.

With what Kent felt was a remarkable calm, he pushed his way between them.

“Kent!” Becca blinked at him in surprise. “Hello.”

“Move it,” Kent suggested to Dennis.

“You’re cutting in?” Dennis kept his hold on Becca. “But you hate to dance.”

“I. Love. It.”

Dennis laughed and shook his head. “No, you don’t. Remember last month? We took those blond twins out? Tish crushed your toe beneath her five inch heels, and you said-”

“I remember what I said,” he grated. “Now get your hands off Becca’s ass and go somewhere. Preferably somewhere far away before I decide I don’t want to pay you anymore.”

Dennis grinned. “You can’t fire me because I’m dancing with Becca.”

“How about for sexually harassing her?”

Dennis’s jaw dropped for a second, then he laughed before turning to Becca. “Are you being harassed, Becca? Sexually?”

She divided a curious glance between the two men and chewed on her full, lower lip.

A full lower lip that had on the most tasty-looking lip gloss Kent had ever seen.

“I’ve never been sexually harassed in my life,” Becca said quite seriously.

Dennis shot Kent a wide, guileless smile. “See? She’s fine. I’m fine. Now why don’t you go somewhere and be fine, too?”

Kent knew he should back off and let Becca make her own mistakes. In fact, that’s what he was going to do right this minute, and he turned away but not before he saw the flash of uncertainty on Becca’s face. Sighing, because he couldn’t very well leave now could he, and he held out a hand to her. “Do you want to dance with me?”

In a move that was both touching and terrifying, she gave him her hand in return. “Yes,” she said without hesitation, then blinked, horrified, as she turned to Dennis. “I- Oh, Dennis, I-”

With typical nonchalance, Dennis smiled and shrugged it off. “Go ahead. Dance with him. But watch out for your pretty toes, he’s got two left feet.”

“I’m sorry,” Becca whispered.

Dennis shook his head. “Don’t be, it’s just one dance.” He looked at Kent and leaned close enough so that with all the music and other conversations going on, Becca couldn’t hear him. “You’ve got it bad.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kent said.

“Don’t I?”

Kent grabbed Becca’s hand, moving her farther in on the dance floor. The music had changed again, and the tempo raced as fast as his thoughts.

Over the loud, drumming beat Becca asked, “What was that about?”

It was about rescuing you, dammit. “You looked like maybe you needed a break.”

Her eyes, the ones that had lit up at the sight of him only a few moments before, suddenly cooled ten degrees. “I look tired to you?”

No, not quite. She practically vibrated with life. Her hair, the shimmering color of a fawn’s coat, shone beneath the sparkling lights. Her skin glowed. There was just something about her, something that drew him, and it bewildered him because he didn’t want to feel this way.

Around them, people were dancing, swirling and rocking to the licentious, happy music. Becca stood there, a frown growing on her previously excited face.

Oh perfect, now he’d stolen her fun. “Becca-” He reached for her, but she backed away.

“No, don’t,” she said in an overly polite voice, looking like an infuriated goddess. Her dress glimmered, her lipstick beckoned him, and he wanted, quite recklessly, to nibble it right off.

“Let me get this straight,” she said over the throbbing beat. “We’re friends.”

“Yes,” he said with relief. One of them had to remember that.