FriendlySeduction (2 page)

“If you get any stiffer, someone’s gonna call the morgue.”

Sara’s lips curled. Normally Marc was the funny one but she
appreciated Rob’s effort to lighten the mood. But he had her beat in the stiffy
competition. She gave in to his subtle demand and let her body melt into his.
For once in her life she wanted to indulge in the fantasy of being with Rob. If
only for one dance.

They moved to the smooth beat of the music. Heaven. Sheer
heaven. Sara couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to be than in Rob’s arms.
Unless it was in Marc’s. She tensed at the thought. Shit, she couldn’t even let
herself pretend for one moment that this would last forever, since apparently
she couldn’t even choose between them in her fantasies.

She pulled back to get some distance from him. She needed to
think and feeling his body against hers just confused her.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?”

She tried not to whimper as Rob ran his thumb over her
trembling lips. She couldn’t help but think
if only
. If only Rob wanted
her like she wanted him. If only he weren’t her best friend. She’d give
anything to throw caution to the wind and throw herself at him. If only she
weren’t afraid of the damage it would do to their friendship when he politely
turned her down.

And that’s what he would do. There was no way a man like Rob
would even look twice at her if she hadn’t been his friend since childhood.
Short, chunky tomboys like her never drew the attention of guys like Rob. Or
Marc.

If only.

She forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. “Nothing.”

Rob didn’t look as if he believed her. She buried her head
against his chest and wallowed in his scent and the amazingly comfortable feel
of his arms around her. At least in this position, Rob wouldn’t be able to see
the conflicting feelings on her face.

If only.

The song ended and Sara looked up to find they were the only
couple still dancing. “Uh, I think I need a—”

The rest of her lame attempt to get some space was cut off
by the screech of the next song starting. She pulled away, glad for the excuse.
No one slow-danced to metal. She gave Rob an apologetic half-smile and tried to
keep from running as she made her way back to the bar.

Rob stared at Sara’s retreating back in confusion. Just
seconds ago he’d held everything he’d ever wanted in his arms. And now she was
running away from him as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.

What the fuck had made her run before he had the chance to
say something? He looked around the bar as if the reason for her sudden flight
was among the drunken crowd. Cursing under his breath when he spied Marc making
a beeline toward him, Rob wished he could find his own hiding place.

“Awww, your evening not going how you imagined? What’s the
matter? Couldn’t close the deal?” The smug grin on his friend’s face caused a
muscle below his own eye to twitch.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Rob crowded Marc. “Why
couldn’t you just take it like a man? She chose me. Get over it.”

Taking a deep breath, Rob made himself back away. He was the
most by-the-book officer on the force but everyone had a breaking point. If he
didn’t keep his distance, he’d be in a shitload of trouble. There would be hell
to pay if his captain heard he started a bar brawl.

A dim little voice in the back of his head reminded him that
Marc was his best friend. Regardless of the fact that he was acting like a
schmuck.

Rob turned away and strode to the men’s room. He needed a
couple minutes to calm down before he went to find Sara.

Marc watched in disbelief as Rob disappeared into the john.
Did Rob think he was going to play nice? Because as far as Marc was concerned,
it wasn’t over. One dance together did not make them a couple. Not in his eyes
anyway. Especially considering the way Sara hightailed it away after. Rob
must’ve said something really stupid. The dipshit.

Taking advantage of Rob’s rare naïveté, Marc hurried over to
the bar and snuggled up behind Sara.

“Hey, princess. Can I buy you a drink?”

Sara stiffened at his question.

“What is it with you two tonight?” She swiveled around on
her barstool to face him. He loved the way the movement trapped her between his
legs before she turned her head away to cough.

Did she just cover up saying
cock block
with her
cough?

“What’s up, Marc? Where’s your girl du jour?”

“Very funny, Sara. I’m here to see you.” He moved in a
little closer. “How about another dance?”

“Ugh. I’m not drunk and I don’t need you two shadowing my
every move. I want to have some fun for a change!”

“And you can’t have fun with me?”

Sara shook her head and raised her drink to her lips. “Not
the kind of fun I want to have,” she murmured behind the glass.

Marc couldn’t believe his ears. What kind of fun was she
looking for and why wasn’t
he
a candidate?

“Oh hey, look. There’s your old flame, Bethany. Why don’t
you go over and rehash the good ole days?”

He didn’t even turn his head. Sara still hadn’t forgiven him
for dating Bethany. He could admit it—he had been a vain, egotistical jerk in
high school. Dating the most popular girl had seemed like a dream come true to
his small, adolescent, hormone-fueled brain. It took one very memorable
confrontation in the quad to remind him that Bethany Larson might have been
built like a Greek goddess but she had the soul of Medusa.

He never did tell Sara about his eavesdropping on them in
the quad that day. Or that the episode was the reason he had broken up with
Bethany. Maybe he should have. Sara apparently thought he was the two-timing
Lothario Bethany and her clique had made him out to be.

“About Bethany—”

“I don’t want to talk about Bethany. Or any of those other
anorexic women you date. I just want you two to leave me alone so I can have
some fun with one of the guys here who thinks I’m fuckable and doesn’t relegate
me to the could-only-be-a-friend column.”

Marc stared at her in shock. She was here for a hook-up.
Sweet, innocent little Sara Banks was on the hunt for a one-night stand and
hadn’t come to him.

Over his dead body.

He had to play this carefully. If he came on too strong,
Sara wouldn’t believe him. She’d probably think he was only trying to intervene
like a big brother.

“I don’t only like skinny women, Sara. Can’t stand a woman
who doesn’t appreciate food. I need a girl like you. One who loves food. Who
understands the sensuous experience eating can be.” Marc moved in closer to
whisper in her ear, “I adore those faces you make when you have one of your
suicide chocolate sundaes in front of you. I’ve been dreaming about that face.
Wondering if that’s the same expression you make when you come.” He licked the
lobe of her ear then pulled back to see her response.

Sara stared at him with rounded eyes. “Is that your idea of
a sick joke? The fat chick making love to ice cream? You know what, Marc? Screw
you. I hope some skinny little bitch pokes your eyes out with her pointy
kneecaps.” She shoved away from him and stalked away, the hem of her dress
bouncing with each indignant step.

“Wait!” Marc groaned. His shoulders slumped in defeat when
she disappeared from view. That didn’t go over well. What the hell went wrong?
How could she think he was making fun of her?

He had to fix this and fast. Before Rob got out of the john
or someone else moved in on his dream girl.

Marc looked around the bar but didn’t see any sign of Rob.
His shoulders stiffened when he caught a glimpse of Sara grinding on a new guy.
He wasn’t sure but from behind he looked like that baby-faced punk from earlier
who needed a lesson in manners. Marc watched, incensed as the little bastard’s
hands wandered a little too far south. “Son of a—”

“Jerkwad! I leave for two minutes and she’s being pawed by
some punk kid? What’s the matter with you?” Rob gave him a not-so-gentle shove.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What’s the matter with
you
?
You really think I was going to stand lookout for you?”

“So you’d rather her be with that—” He waved wildly at the
dance floor. “Than me? This isn’t high school, Marc. Grow the fuck up.”

Marc grabbed Rob’s arm as he turned to leave. “You’re right.
This isn’t high school. So I’m not gonna sit on the sidelines just because you
called dibs.”

“Fuck, man. I can’t believe you would talk about her like
that.” Rob jerked his arm out of Marc’s grasp and stomped off.

Marc shook his head as he watched his best friend’s
retreating back. Rob always did take life way too seriously. It might be a good
characteristic in a cop but sometimes he was a killjoy even during playtime.

Marc shook off the gray cloud hovering over his head. His
honey wouldn’t want to play with a grouch.

If he could find her. He scanned the room again but didn’t
see her or her newly found partner. The bar was too crowded tonight. He wove
his way through the wriggling bodies and tensed as a wandering hand groped his
ass. Quickening his pace, he searched for Sara’s curly mop of blonde hair.

Nothing.

He stopped on the opposite side of the dance floor, looking
around the fringes. He nodded briefly at his brother Alan, who was busying
taking an order. Alan flashed him a stiff smile before turning back to his
table. Even from this distance, Marc could see the tension in his brother’s
shoulders.

Glancing at the occupants of the table, Marc didn’t think
Alan’s problem was with his customers. Clint was Alan’s best friend and Clint’s
wife Stella was a sweetheart. Must be something else.

Maybe his brother was psychically picking up on his own bad
mood. Of all his three brothers, Alan was the one he was closest to. Although
that might have more to do with their eleven-month age difference than anything
else. They were practically twins.

Smiling at his own silliness, he resumed his search for
Sara. His gaze landed on Rob leaning against the bar alone with two empty beers
in front of him and a bottle of tequila. That wasn’t going to end well. He
couldn’t believe Rob would even look at a tequila bottle after that weekend in
Cabo.

But he couldn’t think about Cabo. Or how long it took to
repair their friendship after the trip from hell.

He had to find Sara before that punk-ass kid did something
Marc would have to make him regret later. He didn’t have time to play nursemaid
to a grown man right now. Besides, Rob could take care of himself.

Sara tried to walk across the parking lot to her car but her
ankles and knees didn’t seem to be working. Good thing she had such a
well-built stud to hold her up. She sneaked another peek at him from beneath
her lashes. The overhead lights showed in sharp relief a layer of darkened
peach fuzz covering his jaw.

Well, crap.

She drew back and stopped to look him over now that she was
in better light. Was he even old enough to drink? Although only twenty-four
herself, she kind of had a thing for older guys. Greg was a prime example of
her type—sandy hair threaded with gray, laugh lines around his eyes.

Damn it, she couldn’t think about him now. At least not like
that. She should think about what a bastard he was. Or the look on his face the
last time she saw him. Better yet, think about Marc with his toned swimmer’s
body and his angular features. Or Rob with his muscular build but those gentle
baby blues. Not a hint of peach fuzz anywhere on those two.

“Come on, sugar. My car’s this way.”

Sara snapped back to the present and the drunken face
leering at her. How could she have thought this teenybopper was cute? Or bed
worthy? She was tipsy, not wasted.

Shaking her head, Sara backed away from him. “I don’t think
so. I’m going to go back inside and see what my friends are up to.”

“Don’t be like that, sugar. We’ll have fun, I promise.”

“Uh, I’m actually kinda tired. How about another time?” She
hunched her shoulders and turned toward the bar.

“Fucking tease.” Peach Fuzz grabbed her arm, his blunt nails
digging into her skin as he spun her back to him.

“Let go of me!” Sara brought her knee up but missed when he
swiveled to one side. Her throat burned and her head buzzed as he ground his
hips into her, the zipper digging into the tender skin just above her belly.

“No,” she gasped as she struggled with him. She finally
managed to wedge her hand between their bodies. “Let me go, you son of a
bitch!” Putting all her weight behind it, Sara drove the heel of her hand into
his Adam’s apple.

He dropped like a stone, flailing and wheezing like an
asthmatic little girl.

“Not so tough now, are ya?” Sara’s lips twisted into a smug
grin as she turned on her heel.

A hand clutched her arm, immobilizing her.

“Let me go!” She struggled anew, twisting and writhing as
his arms seized her from behind. “Rape! Rape!” she shrieked at the top of her
lungs.

“Holy fuck, Sara. Calm down.”

Sara stilled when Marc’s words penetrated her panic-induced
fog. She sagged against him as her knees wiggled like a Jell-O shot. “God,
Marc, you scared the crap out of me.”

“I noticed.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I came to save you.”

Sara snorted. “Oh my God.” She covered her face with her
hands. “I’m sorry. You want to play big, strong man and carry me back to the
car?”

“No. I think I’ll play big, strong man and kick the shit out
of this piece of trash.”

Peach Fuzz had finally struggled to his knees when Marc
headed back to him.

“Marc, stop. It’s over. Let’s go back inside.” Sara grabbed
his hand and tugged him away from the trembling figure. “He’s not worth it. You
don’t want Rob to arrest you, do ya?” Sara batted her lashes.

Marc smirked. “I don’t think he’s able to do much more than
stand up right now.”

“What are you talking about? Where’s Rob? What happened?”

“Come on, babe. I’ll show you.”

Sara sighed in relief as he let her tug him away from the
pending fight and toward the bar instead. She had to admit that his
protectiveness warmed her heart, and the area south of there. Any man willing
to throw down for her was a keeper in her book. Even if he only saw her as a
friend.

“So why were you in the parking lot with that clown?”

Marc’s question stopped her in her tracks. She couldn’t meet
his gaze, knowing his hazel eyes would be filled with recriminations. Or pity.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough. I do.”

“It’s no big deal. We were going to go back to my place. I
changed my mind. He took exception so I had to change his mind too.” She
fiddled with the small bracelet on her left wrist, twisting and plucking it,
waiting for the explosion she just knew was coming.

“That was stupid.”

Sara blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected such a droll
response. Given the situation, she expected some typical big-brother posturing,
anything but that simple statement. She glanced up and her breath hitched at
the gentle, understanding look he gave her.

“Come on, dipshit. Let’s grab the other dipshit and head
home.” Marc threw his arm around her shoulder and led her to the entrance.

Sara leaned into his warm body, her head nestling into his
chest. “What did Rob do? He looked fine the last time I saw him.”

“Let me guess. You were inside, grinding on the punk?”

Sara burrowed her head into his chest and nodded, ashamed of
her poor judgment. God, she had been stupid. At least she had figured it out before
she was alone in her apartment with Peach Fuzz. She shuddered when she thought
of what might have happened.

“That explains a lot. Come on, let’s grab Rob before he does
something he’ll regret.” Marc pushed open the bar door with his right hand
while keeping Sara cuddled underneath his left.

She enjoyed the new sensation of being so close to him. “Why
would Rob care if I was dancing with what’s-his-face? I told you guys Greg and
I broke up last night.”