ROMANCE: MENAGE ROMANCE: Tapped and Taken by Two (Pregnancy Sports MMA UFC Fighter Romance) (Alpha Male Romance) (20 page)

Suddenly the small crowd of people parted, Adam pushing his way through with a flurry of courteous apologies. Someone was following him, but I couldn’t make out who.

“Max, Tamara, Claire” he regarded the three of us. “Meet Derek.”

My stomach flipped and I found myself gripping the stem of my glass tighter.

It was the guy who was checking me out earlier. Practically stripping me with his eyes—which I could now see to be rich and dark, like coffee, now that we were face to face. This time he met my eyes and smiled at me a quick, fresh smile. The kind normal people made and polar opposite to the creepy grin he had given me earlier.

He shook Max’s hand, then Tamara’s—she smiled at him with both her mouth and eyes, I knew what she was thinking—and then turned to me.

“Hi,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Derek. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Claire.”

I forced an approximation of a professional smile and shook his hand. I couldn’t help but notice that his hand was massive and calloused, but his solid grip gentle. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“I got your card from Adam.” He wove it in the air like it was a free ticket to Hawaii, or something. It wasn’t even a fancy card, with only one line of color ink.

“I appreciate complimentary networking.”

He laughed and adjusted the collar of his dress shirt. I could see the beginnings of his collarbone peeking out from behind the light blue fabric. 

Adam patted Derek on the shoulder. “Max was saying you were single, Claire, so I thought it’d be okay to introduce you two.”

I groaned internally and shot Max a scolding glance from the corner of my eye.

Max raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I may have let it slip, but only with good intentions. You know I’m only looking out for you. I don’t tell just anyone.”

Yeah, not just anyone—just playboys with too nice of hair, broad shoulders and muscular arms. 

“Really, Adam?” Derek frowned slightly, his voice carrying an obvious edge. “I came to give a second opinion on this place, not pick up lovely ladies—” he turned to me, “no offence.”

I just regarded him and took another sip of my wine. Tamara giggled.

Adam shrugged and made a guilty smile. “Sorry— I didn’t really mean it like that. I just thought you could use making some new friends before you’re deployed.”

“Oh, are you in the military?” Max asked, defusing the situation by changing the topic before I could.

The muscles of Derek’s shoulders relaxed and he simply shook his head at Adam before addressing Max like this was something he didn’t like to talk about all the time. “I am. I’m scheduled to deploy again in a week and a half.”

A military man? That would explain his physique. But I wondered why he had looked at me in such a way earlier, if he hadn’t been trying to pick up ladies. Unless he just looked at all women like that. I suppressed a shudder and hoped nobody noticed.

“But I don’t want to talk about that,” Derek continued. “When I’m off-duty, I stay off-duty.” He smiled at me warmly. “Claire, you did a great job with the place.”

I accepted his compliment and made some small talk about the highlights of the project, then told him to pass on my card if he met anyone in need of an interior designer.

“But I think I want to keep this card,” he said. “I might be growing attached to it.”

Max laughed, and I tried to stop my eyes from rolling.

“Hey, I am sorry if Adam made you feel awkward earlier,” Derek said. He must have noticed my eyes twitch at his remark. “I’m really not here to pick up girls.”

“You could be,” Max commented with a sly smirk. “With a smile and smooth talking like that.”

“Max, keep your hormones in check,” I scolded him playfully. “You’re the realtor. Stay professional.” I knew the hypocrisy as soon as I said it, being here to network but with wine in my glass and, potentially, being flirted with.

“I’m inclined to agree with Max,” Tamara chimed in, curling a strand of hair around her finger.

“But, well, since we’ve met, I don’t see why we can’t arrange to hangout again.” Derek tilted his head to emphasize that it was more of a question than a statement.

Okay, I was definitely being flirted with. The glimmer in his eye confirmed it.

“Myself and a couple friends are hitting up Club Montaz tomorrow night. You should join us.”

“We’d love to!” Tamara beamed and puffed out her chest, showcasing what nature had blessed her with and not so much myself. It was clear Derek noticed. “That’s a great idea!”

“Oh, I don’t really like to mix business with pleasure,” I said, running a hand over my bare arm. I suddenly noticed just how chilly the night breeze could be.

“Geeze Claire, loosen up a little,” Tamara said, tugging on my arm. “You’ve earned a night out after all the great work you’ve done. Right, Max?”

“Honey, you’ve definitely earned a night out,” Max said.

“Bring a handful of friends, of course,” Derek said. “It’s just for fun. Have a few drinks, dance. Just a group of people having a good time.”

“I’m not much of a club person…” I said. It was partially the truth. I hadn’t been to one in years. My usual excuse was being too tired from work, or too busy for the same reason, but I also felt a little too old to be frequenting the clubs.

“Don’t worry—it’s not some crazy club for teenagers. It’s got a nice lounge area, a proper dance floor. Less spilled drinks on the floor. Going with only a couple people isn’t fun, we could use a few more.” His attention fixated on me and he smiled. “And Claire. I’d like you to come.”

A sudden elbow to my ribs made me stagger forward and I almost lost my wine glass over the railing. It was Max. “Go for it,” he said. “A little party is good for you. You’ve told me Tamara is always bothering you to hit the clubs with her anyway. Make it a girls night—but with some boys to even things out!”

“Exactly!” Tamara said.

“You’re both a bit too enthusiastic about this,” I mumbled to them. Everyone in this conversation seemed to working hard to make me go.

“Hey,” Derek said, spreading his arms, “just come join us for a little bit. You don’t have to stay late, or drink more than you want. No pressure. I just thought I’d invite you. We could get to know each other better. You’re young, vibrant, a little edgy, and pull off that dress like no one I know could.” His voice trailed softly on the wind, making his compliment sound genuinely innocent even though his flash of perfect teeth suggested a hint of something underneath.

My cheeks turned warm, and I smiled despite myself and my earlier plan to turn down the offer. Maybe a little fun would be nice. Perhaps I had misjudged Derek when I saw him earlier—maybe it had just been the wine speaking to me when I thought he was looking at me with gross intentions. Tamara was clearly already onboard, and the other girls would be probably be psyched to go, too. And I didn’t have to work over the weekend since the next project wasn’t due to start for a couple days. Maybe a little dressing up, a little dance, and a little drink would be good. A detox from work and life.

“We’re going, right?” Tamara leaned into me so far that I worried she’d lose balance on her heels.

“Fine,” I said, rolling my shoulders back to meet Derek’s unspoken challenge. “I’ll come.”

~

I spotted Derek from across the street, waiting at the front of the club, his cheekbones highlighted red from the neon glow of the sign above him. He was with to two other men, one laughing and holding his side, the other leaning against the brick wall watching the steady flow of people pass a rather massive bouncer. Tamara and Shay were going on about some new store opening in their favorite downtown mall, and Megan had her arm looped around mine almost possessively.

“Guys. That’s him.” I nodded towards Derek and the two who I assumed to be his friends.

“My, my, my,” Tamara said, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “Even dressed casual, he’s a looker.”

“Go for it,” I said, but only half-feeling the words. I was kind of liking this more casual look.

“Tamara. I thought you were seeing that pilot.” Shay pointed out.

“I only saw him twice,” Tamara said. “Not married to the guy.”

“Huh. On the phone, it almost sounded like you were.”

Tamara scoffed, Megan laughed. I found my eyes insistently looping down Derek’s body as we approached. I noticed that his legs were quite long and I wondered if they made him a good runner. If he was a runner. Or maybe he swam.

“Claire,” Megan said. “You’re blushing already.”

I tried to pull the color back inside. “No, I’m not. Just a bit nervous—it’s been a while since I’ve been clubbing.”

Megan rubbed my arm and smiled. “Fret not. I’ll be your wingwoman.”

We scurried across the road before the light changed, our high heels clacking against the asphalt but it being too young in the night for the sound to transmute into any impressive echoes. A dozen feet away from him, Derek’s eyes lit up in recognition and he waved.

“Hey, hey, hey, glad you could make it,” he said as we approached. He wore a charming, slanted grin, but it made me wonder if he had already been drinking. I shunted the thought aside, remembering that I had all taken a ‘courage’ shot before heading over.

“Hey,” I said, and we exchanged introductions of our parties. His one friend was Steven, the other Rob—or Rod. I couldn’t quite hear over the sudden scream of a guy being jumped on from behind by someone who I assumed to be a friend. I just nodded.

“Claire, you’re looking great,” Derek said to me with a flash of white teeth as we headed into the club. I could feel the bass of the music through my heels and Derek’s eyes travel along my bare legs.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, thinking maybe my sparkly skirt was too short. “So are you.”

We took up a circular booth to the side of the dance floor and Rob—or Rod—waved to the bartender to bring us some drinks.

It was the four of us along one side of the circle, against the three of them along the other. Derek and Tamara ended up sitting next to each other. I purposely took a seat at the edge of the booth, both for easy washroom access and not getting elbowed with every minuscule motion from my neighbors.

Steven asked Megan and I about our jobs and hobbies, typical small talk. He was polite and Megan was particularly reciprocative, nodding at the words he somehow projected over the music without spitting and slowly draining the drink in her glass. I nodded along, taking long sips of my drink frequently and finding my gaze drifting over the rim to land on Derek.

He leaned over and said something into Tamara’s ear. She nodded and grinned, then said something back into his. His head jerked towards Shay and he said something that sent her into one of her giggling fits. She started choking and a short frenzy of half-serious laughter broke out.

My drink didn’t taste as it should. I needed to get a new one.

I was about to wave down the bartender when I was suddenly being pushed out of my seat.

“Come on,” Megan said, gently nudging me but with urgency and laughter in her voice. Her false lashes exaggerated the flicker of light in her eyes. “Time to dance. Relaying the message from down the line.”

Tamara and Shay led us towards the middle of the dance floor. The strobing lights above made the curves of bare skin shine, and the music played with its audience like puppets on strings. We danced without knowing how we danced, without thinking of steps or what song was actually playing. I moved to the beat of the music that vibrated throughout my whole body. It felt awkward to just dance for the fun of it, but the alcohol helped.

Megan kept to my side, brushing off strange guys trying to grind into her. Tamara was demonstrating the fact that she had professional dance training to anyone who would watch—and they were many. Shay danced a bit with Rob—or whatever his name was. And then with Steven. We kept more to ourselves, or at least I thought we did until I noticed Derek had vanished.

I kept dancing, swinging my hair side-to-side, pretending my eyes were just dancing to the beat and not actively searching for someone. But why did I care where Derek went? Even though he invited us here in the first place, he could do whatever he wanted.

Trying not to trip over anyone on the now crowded dance floor, I wove around our group. Someone brushed my butt, but I ignored it, preoccupied with locating our lost host. I was suddenly aware of just how many bodies were cramped into this space and how my shoes felt an odd attraction to the floor in some places. I craned my neck, standing on my tip-toes.

“Who are you looking for?”

I jumped at the voice in my ear, instantly regretting my tip-toe balancing act as my right foot slid from underneath me. An arm hooked around my waist and I stared up into my savior’s face, eyes unseeing for a moment as my head spun.

“Woah. Careful there.”

It was Megan. I sighed.

She helped me regain my feet and cast me a devious look. “Scoping someone out?”

“No,” I said. “Just looking for the washroom.”

She looked at me skeptically, but pointed and said, “Over there. To the left.”

Not putting it past Megan to not follow me, I went to the washroom and freshened up. Following suit with a handful of other women, I spent a bit of time in front of a mirror, adjusting stray strands of hair, checking for fallen specks of mascara and eyeshadow creases, and reapplying my favorite Mac lip gloss. The girl next to me looked like she was reapplying everything.