Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,4

were nothing and no one else in the room to bother with. Yeah, he was good at making a woman feel as if she were everything in his world. Very good.

‘I’ll have some water,’ she muttered. There was zero alcohol in her system but she really needed to sober up. Not to mention cool down. She swallowed, determined to employ some easy bartender-to-customer-type conversation. ‘Been a while since I’ve seen you. What have you been up to?’

‘I’ve been busy with work.’

Of course, he was reputedly amazing in the courtroom, but she bet his work wasn’t all he’d been busy with. The guy was legendary even at school. She and Lauren had been there a full five years after him and there’d been talk of his slayer skills. Lauren had been mega popular with all the older girls because they wanted to get to him through her.

‘You need to get away from the bar to have a break,’ he said once she’d set his drink in front of him.

Actually she quite liked that giant block of wood between them. She’d thought herself well over that teen crush, but all it had taken was that one look from him and she was all saucy inside. But there was a compelling glint in his eyes, and somehow she didn’t manage to refuse.

As he shepherded her through the crowd, she steeled herself against the light brush of his hand on her back. She was not feeling remotely feminine next to his tall, muscled frame. She was not enjoying the bulldozer effect and seeing everyone clear out of his path and him guiding her through as if she were some princess to be protected. Surely she couldn’t be that pathetic?

The balcony was darker and quieter. Of course he’d know where to find the most intimate place in an overcrowded venue. She pressed her back against the cold wall. She preferred to be able to keep an eye on the punters, and it gave her unreliable muscles some support. But in a second she realised it was a bad idea because Brad now towered in front of her. Yeah, he was all she could see and there was no way of getting around him easily.

The loud rhythm of the music was nothing on the frantic beat of her pulse in her ears. But he must be used to it—women blushing and going breathless in his company. She hoped he didn’t think it was anything out of the ordinary.

‘Will you excuse me a sec?’ she said briskly. ‘I just need to check a couple of messages.’

‘Sure.’

She slipped her hand into her pocket, needing to fill in a few of her fifteen minutes and catch her breath. Besides, the imp in her wanted to know Lauren’s reaction to the photo she’d sent. But there were no messages at all—which was odd given Lauren’s tech-addiction. She frowned at the phone.

‘Did you need to make a call?’ he asked quietly.

‘Do you mind? It won’t take a second.’ And it would fill in a few more of the fifteen minutes.

‘Go for it.’ Brad lifted his glass and sipped.

Mya turned slightly towards the wall and made the call.

‘What did you think?’ she quietly asked as soon as Lauren answered.

‘Think of what?’

‘The pic,’ Mya mumbled into the phone, turning further away so Lauren’s big, bad brother couldn’t hear. ‘I sent it a couple of hours ago.’

‘What picture?’

‘The pic.’ Mya’s heart drummed faster. She glanced at Brad. Standing straight in front of her—a little too close. His eyes flicked up from her body to her face. She didn’t want him listening, but now she’d looked at him, she couldn’t look away. Not when she’d seen that look in his eyes. It wasn’t just maple syrup now. It was alight with something else.

‘I haven’t received any pic. What was it of?’ Lauren laughed.

‘But I sent it,’ Mya said in confusion. She’d heard that whooshing sound when the message had gone. ‘You must have got it.’

‘Nup, nada.’

Mya’s blood pounded round her body. Sweltering, she tried to think. Because if that message hadn’t gone to Lauren, then to whom had it gone?

She stared up at the guy standing closer than he ought and gradually became aware of a change in him. His eyes weren’t just alive with the maple-syrup effect; no, now they were lit with unholy amusement. Why—?

Impossible.

The heat of anticipation within Mya transformed to horror in less than a heartbeat. And to make it worse, Brad suddenly smiled, hell, his shoulders actually shook—was the guy