causing havoc again?”
“Same old. Do me a favour and call if you spot him?”
“Sure.”
As Scott walked off, I sat down before my legs gave way.
“He touched me!” I whispered to Dan.
“I noticed,” she giggled. “Did you see Nick’s face? He looked as if he wanted to punch him.”
“What? Why?”
“Dan!” A shout came from nearby, and a pair of blondes rushed up. “Come and dance.”
She gave me an apologetic smile as they dragged her off. “Laters.”
Armand followed, leaving me alone with Nick and a magnum of champagne.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked.
“I’m not really much of a dancer.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Who?”
“Your ex.”
Of course he did. Apparently, I cramped his style, which was somewhere between dad dancing and the funky chicken. It got worse as he got drunker.
“He might have mentioned it a time or two.”
“Well, since everything else that seems to have come out of his mouth is complete bullshit, I bet you’re a great dancer.”
I shook my head no.
Nick leaned over, so close his lips brushed against my ear when he spoke. Flashes of fire travelled down every nerve fibre in my body at the sound of his voice, low and throaty.
“Baby, that asshole did a number on your head. You’re easily the most beautiful woman in here tonight, and I want you beside me on the dance floor. Come on.” He held out a hand. “Come with me.”
Nick thought I was the most beautiful woman there? How much champagne had he drunk? Did he need his eyes tested? This was Hollywood, where cosmetic surgery was as common as cough syrup and the fad diet changed weekly. I didn’t even own a lipstick.
The touch of his fingers on mine made me jump, and the timbre of his voice still vibrated through me long after he stopped speaking. Dazed, I let him pull me forward. Apparently, my feet did want to dance.
Nick, unsurprisingly, moved like Patrick Swayze, and he stuck close as we made it to the lower level of the club. Seriously close. My breasts squashed against him, their pebbled tips pressing into his chest. Could he feel that? Please tell me the answer was no. My brain reminded me this was far from a good idea, but I couldn’t take my eyes or my hands off him, and apart from the odd glare at other men, his gaze stayed firmly fixed on me. As we moved in sync with the music, a tightness started in my belly, followed by a wild fluttering. When Nick said he wanted me to come with him, I doubted he meant literally. I tried to take a step back, to put some space between us, but he held me tightly. I was in trouble. Big trouble. Huge trouble, going by what I felt pressed against my hip.
“You okay?” he asked.
Darn it, he must have noticed me squirming. “Uh, I need to use the bathroom.”
Dan was flinging her arms in the air close by, and Nick waved at her to come over.
“What?”
“Can you show Lara where the bathroom is?”
“Sure.”
Dan led the way as we threaded through the writhing bodies packed in front of the bar, heading towards the back of the club. With every step, the butterflies in my stomach settled, replaced by a sense of loss. What on earth was wrong with me? In all my years with Billy, I’d never experienced anything so…so intense. Two layers of clothing between me and Nick, and still I’d nearly orgasmed on the dance floor for crying out loud. Inappropriate didn’t even begin to cover it.
The line for the ladies’ room rivalled the line outside the club, but Dan bypassed it and tugged me through an unmarked door beside the fire exit instead, nodding to the security guard as she went past. My ears thanked me as the decibels dropped to a level where we could talk without shouting.
“Why are we in here?” I asked.
“This bathroom’s nicer.” She motioned at a door ahead as if that answered everything. “And I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have dragged you in front of the cameras.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I’d gotten over the shock now. “Actually, it would be nice to borrow Armand sometimes, that way I could get into Black’s whenever I wanted.”
She looked puzzled for a second. “But you don’t need Armand. Just call Emmy and ask her to put you on the guest list.”
“She can do that?”
“Didn’t Nick tell you? They’re Emmy’s clubs.”
“What, all of them?”
“She likes dancing, and when her favourite club in London closed