a balled-up napkin at him. “You’re ruining my tuna nigiri!”
“Who knew there was so much blood in the old girl?” He misquotes Macbeth in a pretty decent Shakespearean accent, and I realize he’s not as dumb as a box of rocks like I’d originally assumed.
Asshole.
“No blood talk at the table.” Daisy pushes his shoulder, and he gives her a wink.
I turn away from their easy familiarity placing one of the martinis in front of Joselyn.
Her eyes light. “Yes!” She lifts it, taking a delicate sip before putting it down again. “It’s delicious. I’m going to savor it.”
She gives me a deferential smile, and fuck, if my dick doesn’t twitch.
Clearing my throat, I pick up the thread. “What’s this about your finger?” I figure gore is a good boner-killer.
She tilts her hand to the side, studying her digit before extending it to me. “This one. Almost sliced it right off with my pruning shears. It must’ve bled for an hour. I thought I was going to pass out. Ten stitches later…”
I hold her hand, turning it so I can see the silver scar running along the inside of her slim finger. “So these sculptures have always been hazardous to your health?”
She shakes her head, lifting a piece of fish to her mouth. “I knew I stopped doing this for a reason.”
After watching her work, I’m not sure I agree with that decision. “Brushes with death and dismemberment aside, you’re an artist.”
Her cheeks pink attractively, and she covers her mouth blinking away from my eyes. “Thank you, Spencer.”
“Where’s your little charge this evening? No sushi for him?”
“He’s actually hanging out with JR’s son this evening. They played on a little football team together one summer, and they’ve been friends ever since.”
“And his mother?”
“Courtney should be here tomorrow afternoon. She said it’s been a pretty quiet week, so that’s good news. It’s really nice of you to ask… and a little surprising. Most people don’t want to talk about that kind of thing.”
I don’t say I’m aware. I push those dark memories away and give her a tight smile. “I try to know my employees’ situations. Especially if it might impact your performance.”
“I told you it wouldn’t.”
Glancing at the table, I see we’ve eaten most of the fish. I’m about to say I’ll call it a night when an electronic drum beat echoes over the crowd, and the singer launches into “Red, Red Wine.”
Joselyn’s hands fly to her face in surprise, and Daisy cuts her husband a disgusted look.
“I didn’t do it,” Scout insists, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“You did not just say that,” Joselyn cackles, and my stomach tightens. Why is she so damn intriguing to me?
Daisy is not impressed, but I notice Miles approaching from behind her.
“Hello, friends!” he calls. “Hello, Spencer! Daisy, I played this song just for you. I heard it’s your favorite.”
Her eyes widen, and Scout gives her a smug look.
With a groan, she stands and hugs our former boss. “Miles, I’m so glad you made it. Did you just get in town? Have some sushi. There’s plenty.”
“We have to dance.” Scout is on his feet, catching her hand. “Miles played this song just for you, Tink.”
“Miles has impeccable timing,” I mutter to Joselyn.
She snorts a laugh, covering her mouth. “I don’t know why Daisy hates this song so much. It’s not that bad.”
“It’s that bad.”
“What’s funny is the way she gets so bent out of shape about it.” Her voice is so light, compared to how she was in Columbia. I can’t resist.
“Want to dance?”
She leans back like she’s stunned, but her eyebrows rise with a nod. “Sure.”
Taking her hand, I lead her to the floor, ignoring the surge in my chest, the fact of how much I’ve wanted to hold her in my arms again.
Moving through the press of dancers, she puts a hand on my waist. Her cheek is at my shoulder, and I hold her other hand close.
Her body is soft against mine, soft breasts against the hardness of my chest. It’s a tantalizing memory of how our bodies feel bare against each other’s, how gorgeous her tits are, how she sounds coming on my mouth.
She’s not wearing heels, so the top of her head is right under my nose. I only have to tilt my chin down to inhale creamy magnolia…
She weakens my defenses, but my instinct pushes back. Clearing my throat, I refocus. “You seem to make a habit of flirting with married men.”
Her body stiffens. “I’m sorry? What did you