Pleasure's Edge (28 page)

She looked at Alec, but he was grinning at Dante, apparently unaware of what he’d just said about her. What did he mean? Or was it only a turn of speech, some ribbing between friends that didn’t mean anything?

“I think I would like another drink, thanks,” she said.

“A glass of wine?” Alec asked.

“Another vodka tonic, please.”

Alec raised a brow at her, but ordered the drink, and one for himself. She knew he was aware that she didn’t often drink hard alcohol. Let him think she was simply nervous about meeting Dante.

Alec slid onto a stool beside her, keeping a hand at the smal of her back. She loved the heat of his hand on her, but she was jumpy. She was trying hard to ignore the white sling on his left arm, the reason he wore it. The urge to think was nearly overwhelming.

“So,” Dante said to her as he sat down on her other side, “Alec tel s me you write erotica?”

“Yes.”

“And you two met so you can research our . . . extreme practices.”

“Yes, that’s right.” The bartender delivered her drink and she took a long sip, swal owing hard against the burn in her throat, Alec’s presence and the vodka doing their work, relaxing her. “I thought most of the people involved in BDSM cal ed it a lifestyle?” Dante shrugged. “I don’t see it as a lifestyle. It doesn’t define my life. Just my sexual—and sensual—practices. And I practice as often as possible.”

He grinned. He was charming. Warm. She did like him, as Alec had said she would.

“You’re an attorney Alec tel s me?”

“Yes, a divorce attorney. I’ve been working at a large firm for a few years, but I just got news that I landed a job at a smal er firm here in town, a job I’ve been after for months, so I’m pretty happy about it.”

“Congratulations on the job.”

“Thanks.”

“But divorce law—that must be intense.”

“It is. I like intense.”

He grinned again, his golden-brown eyes glittering.

“You enjoying these little innuendos, Dante?” Alec asked from behind her.

Was that a hint of real jealousy in his voice, or was he simply teasing his friend?

“I enjoy everything, Alec. But you already know that about me.

Ah, looks like the hostess has our table. Shal we?” Dante offered his arm to Dylan and she thought it would seem rude to refuse. She smiled a little when she caught Alec’s faint glare.

They were given a booth: Dante sat on one side, she and Alec sat on the other. She studied the menu, but knew Alec would order for her. A smal part of her wanted to argue the point, but she’d gotten over most of that weeks ago. Instead, she sat back and placed her menu on the table.

Dante glanced at her, then at Alec. He didn’t say anything. But she could feel him assessing the situation. As a dom, she realized he was trained to observe people in the same way Alec was. That it came almost automatical y for them. And somehow, she didn’t mind it, even though some section of her psyche was stil convinced she should.

The waiter arrived and the men gave their orders, Alec ordering for her, as expected. It made her a little warm al over, something she hated to admit, even to herself. But it was happening, al the same.

“Tel me how you two met,” she said, looking from Alec to Dante.

She couldn’t help but notice what a gorgeous pair they made. The two of them must turn every woman’s head everywhere they went, especial y together.

“We met at the Pleasure Dome. It’s been, what, three years?” Dante asked Alec.

“About that, yes.”

“We found out pretty quickly that we have a lot in common,” Dante said, “aside from the things that happen at the club. We both love to travel, although Alec has been a lot more places than I have. Between law school and starting my career, I haven’t had much free time. But it was the motorcycles that real y connected us. Except his taste in bikes is atrocious.”

“Ducatis are classics. Mechanical perfection,” Alec said.

“I keep tel ing you, nothing drives like a BMW,” Dante insisted.

“They’re the best cruising bikes in the world. You can’t beat German engineering.”

“I can tel you two have had this argument before,” Dylan said, pretending the mere mention of the motorcycles wasn’t making her chest pul into a tight knot, the fear kicking her like a punch to the stomach.

Alec laughed. “Maybe a time or two.”

He turned to her and smiled, his hand squeezing her thigh. And despite the dizzying mix of emotions she was feeling, a smal thril went through her. It happened every time he touched her. And even though Dante was amazing-looking, and every bit as smart and charming as Alec said he would be, he didn’t have the slightest effect on her. Not even a spark. It was as though she saw other men from a distance now, always comparing them to Alec. And they always came up short.

She’d always had a healthy libido and a great appreciation for a good-looking man. Why was it that suddenly she only had eyes for this one?

She glanced back at Alec, and his gaze was on her, that bril iant blue, looking right through her, inside her, making her pulse hot and thready.

Oh, you are in trouble.

Dinner came, and she ate her way through miso soup, the sharp curry flavor of Singapore street noodles, gorgeously prepared sushi, trying to ignore the thoughts cycling through her brain at a thousand miles an hour.

Why was it she was more aware than ever before of Alec’s effect on her? Maybe because her response to him was in such sharp contrast to her lack of response to the handsome Dante. Or maybe her body was stil buzzing from the sex on her dining room table this morning. Or maybe it was the attraction and connection mixed with the worry of his accident. But what real y made her head spin, if she let herself linger on the thought, was the fact that she so clearly had eyes only for Alec.

Lust had never made her look to one man, and one man only.

Nothing ever had. But the fact was, she didn’t want anyone else.

She only wanted Alec.

She wanted to be
his
.

God . . .

She set her chopsticks down, the food suddenly like lead in her stomach. They had switched from their cocktails to some good, cold sake during the meal, and she picked up her cup and drank.

What she real y needed was more vodka. Or maybe she shouldn’t be drinking at al . It would only dul her senses. She’d spent enough time being dul ed, not thinking. Things were getting scary now as a result. She’d al owed too much to happen. Had let things go too far.

She turned to watch Alec as he talked to his friend, his hand gestures animated as they argued something about basketbal .

He paused and looked at her, his smile disarming, sincere, beautiful. And reflecting . . . what? Pride?

She was feeling shaky. Too shaky. She had to calm down.

“Wil you two excuse me for a minute?”

“Of course,” Alec stood, his hand on her waist as she got to her feet.

She moved as quickly as she could toward the ladies’ room.

There was an attendant standing by the sink, nodding and smiling.

Dylan rushed into a stal , slamming the door behind her.

She pushed her hair from her face with shaking hands, then, her legs weak, braced herself with one palm flat on the door.

She had to calm down. This didn’t have to mean anything.

Except that it did.

It was too late. Too damn late.

How could she have let this happen?

She pul ed her cel phone from her purse and dialed Mischa’s number.

“Hi, this is Mischa. Leave me a message and I’l cal you back as soon as I can. If you’d like to make a tattoo appointment, please cal my shop, Thirteen Roses. Thanks!”

“Mischa, it’s me, Dylan. I real y need to talk to you. I’m sort of losing my mind. I’m cal ing you from a bathroom stal , for God’s sake. I’m standing here like some lunatic, wringing my hands. Or I was, until I had to use one to hold the damn phone.

“The thing is, Mischa, I’ve fal en for Alec. More than fal en. I’m . . .

fal ing in love with him. Oh, God. Did I just say that? I can’t believe I said that. I can’t believe this is happening to me.
Me
, of al people!

I can’t love him. I don’t know how to do this. I need your help. I need to calm down. I need to—”

Click.

“Your message has been completed. If you would like to erase it and record it again, please press one.”

“Damn it.”

She hit the OFF button, not knowing if the message would even go through. Why had she babbled on so long?

She was going to have to pul it together, to go back out there and pretend like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed, in that one brief moment when she’d realized the truth.

She was in love with Alec Walker.

Even letting the words rol through her mind was frightening.

Overwhelming. Impossible.

But it was true.

Her fingers tightened around her cel phone, her knuckles going white.

Goddamn her traitorous heart. She was in love with him. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

fifteen

She’d taken several minutes to breathe, to reapply her lip gloss, to wash her hands, letting the cool water run over her wrists. Her cheeks were stil flushed when she’d left the ladies’ room, but she didn’t want to leave the men waiting for too long. She didn’t want anyone asking questions. Luckily, they were deep in conversation when she returned to the table.

Alec stood to let her into the booth, barely looking at her, although he slid an arm over her shoulders once they were both seated. He leaned forward, talking to Dante.

“I’ve found some great places for us to stay once we’re there. A real mix. There’s this amazing place a friend told me about, right on the beach. Just grass shacks on the sand, real y primitive, but I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“No, of course not. You know me. I can sleep on a bed of nails if I have to.”

“The food there is supposed to be incredible, and it’s got one of the best beaches. And on the way down I though we’d stop in San Francisco the first day, then maybe Santa Barbara.”

“I like Santa Barbara,” Dante said, sipping his sake. “There’s this smal gal ery there that has a col ection of antique erotic carvings in ivory and bone from Japan. Wait until you see them.

You’l go crazy over this stuff. Where do you want to stop in San Francisco?”

“You two are going to San Francisco?” Dylan asked, pushing her food around with her chopsticks, trying to act normal. Trying to keep her head from spinning. Trying not to surge into Alec’s big body beside her, just give up al the fight and melt into him.

“Nope. We’re heading to Baja in a few weeks. San Francisco wil just be an overnight stop.”

“Baja? Mexico?”

“Yeah,” Dante answered. “A motorcycle trip. We’ve been planning it forever. I final y got some time off work, cleared my court calendar. Have you ever been there?”

“I . . . no.” Her stomach twisted into a knot, the knot pul ing tighter and tighter.

Alec. On his motorcycle. Riding halfway across the country. Or at least, down to the southern tip and into Mexico. How many days on the road, on the motorcycle? How many chances for him to go down on his bike again? Chal enging the odds. He’d come out of it okay this time. But next time . . .

Images of Quinn, his twisted body. Her baby brother. She’d been the one to go to the hospital. Her mother couldn’t have handled it. And she’d had to identify his body. His poor, beautiful body, damaged beyond repair. She would never get that sight out of her head. Out of her heart.

Her heart had been damaged beyond repair, as wel .

Not again.

How could he do this? Not now. Not when she loved him. It was too damn dangerous. She could lose him.

You were going to, anyway. You weren’t really going to stay
with him. Not now that you love him. Because you can’t love
anyone.

She put a hand to her suddenly aching head.

“Dylan?” There was concern in Alec’s voice. She couldn’t even look at him. “Are you okay? Is the food not agreeing with you?”

“I’m . . . no, I’m fine. Fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
That’s because I have.

She waved his hand away when he tried to get her to drink some water.

“Why don’t I take you home? Dante, we’l catch up next week and finalize our plans.”

“Yes, that’s fine. Dylan, I’m sorry you’re not feeling wel . It’s been a pleasure. We’l meet again, I’m sure.”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”