“Yup.”
“So? Are you thinking about it?”
“No,” I say automatically. “Of course not.”
But even as I say the words, I know I don’t mean them. I am thinking about it. About being naked on that canvas. About Damien Stark standing in his living room and looking up at me.
A shiver runs through me. “Let’s go,” I say.
Jamie cocks her head. “Go? Where?”
“Out. It’s Saturday. There will be dancing involved. And drinking. Definitely drinking.”
“Are we celebrating?” There’s a knowing lilt to her voice.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But maybe I just want to dance.”
“We should call Ollie and Courtney,” she says once we’ve both changed and are back in the living room. I look up from where I’m checking my purse for all the necessities of a night out. “He called earlier, by the way. I forgot to tell you.”
“Oh, hell. Did he want me to call him back?”
She shrugged. “He was just calling to check on you. Make sure Damien Stark didn’t eat you up last night. Little did he know.”
My cheeks warm. “You didn’t tell him?”
“All I said was that you got home safe. That Stark put you in a limo and sent you home. I didn’t share the dirty details. Should I have?” There’s a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I bet Ollie would like that story.”
“No,” I say firmly. “No.”
“So do we call them?”
“Why not?”
Courtney declines since she has to wake up early to go to some conference in San Diego, but Ollie is up for meeting us. We start out at Donnelly’s, a pub near the house he’s renting in West Hollywood, and move on to Westerfield’s. “Don’t worry,” Ollie says as I eye the long line behind the red velvet rope. “I promise we’ll glide right in.”
I assume Ollie has some sort of suck with the guy at the door, but it turns out that my friend is relying on Jamie and me. The bouncer looks us up and down, and Jamie gives him her best I’m so hot it should be criminal look. “In,” the guy says, and I can feel his eyes on my ass as we enter the dark, thrumming venue.
“This is crazy,” I shout. “We can’t even talk.”
“Then dance!”
Jamie takes my hand and Ollie’s and drags us onto the dance floor. I can feel the bass reverberating through my chest, and after a moment, I allow myself to get lost in the wild, pulsing sensation. Ollie and Jamie have both had a few more drinks than me, and they’re totally into the music, doing a little bump and grind number that I’d worry about if I didn’t know what good friends they are.
No, I think, what good friends we are. I ease my way between the two of them, hook my arms around their shoulders, and proceed to laugh my head off as we try to coordinate some sort of move that doesn’t end up with the three of us falling on our asses. It’s fun, but I’m sure we look ridiculous. I don’t care, though. I’m in the midst of a total attitude adjustment. I’m there with my two best friends. I’m in Los Angeles. I have a great job. I’ve had two amazing orgasms in the last twenty-four hours, and I’ve fielded an offer worth one million dollars. Honestly, days like these don’t come along that often.
“Drinks are on me,” I say, realizing that I’m more than a little parched.
The bar is all the way in the back of the room, and when I arrive there, I realize why. It’s infinitesimally quieter here, which means that the bartender doesn’t have to know how to lip-read in order to hear the drink order. I’m standing there waiting to get the drinks back when Ollie approaches, his hair stuck to his forehead and his face red from the efforts of keeping up with Jamie on the dance floor.
“She wear you out?” I ask.
“Never,” he says, and there’s a devious little gleam in his eye. “She hit the ladies’. Thought I’d come find you. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Okay.” I frown, because this is hardly the best location for a heart-to-heart. “What’s up?”
“Stark,” he says. “I got the impression from Jamie that things between you two might be heating up.”
I make a mental note to strangle Jamie.