the dark scruff on his perfect jawline. He bites his lip and pushes his wild blond hair off his face. Damn. Just damn. His cologne, something spicy and all male, hits my nose, and I inhale deeply.
His full, sensuous lips part slightly as he blinks at me, and there’s a look of uncertainty on his face as he stares back. His jacket eases open as he moves to let someone pass by us, and I see the tight black shirt he’s wearing underneath, the way it clings to his lower abdomen. Hockey players have notoriously well-developed physiques, and Zack doesn’t disappoint. I swallow, imagining the six-pack under the shirt, the V on his hips. I think about the texture of his skin that I can’t see. Is it rippled and hard? What would my tongue feel like—
Stop, Sugar. That’s not why you’re here.
His eyes gleam down at me, the color of molten hot steel as he watches.
Later, I’ll blame my reaction on the adrenaline from the incident at the bar and my lack of dinner, but right now, I’m disappointed in myself. Apparently I’m just like those other girls who look at him with rapturous expressions on their faces.
And right there, it happens. I chicken out. I decide I can’t ask him for help.
I’ll find another way.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I move to walk around him.
He sidesteps, blocking me. “Wait a minute. Were you behind that column earlier…over there?” His head tilts toward the support beam in the center of the room.
“Nope.”
A furrow forms on his forehead. “I could have sworn—”
“Who’s this?” A sharp female voice interrupts from beside him, a stunning petite redhead in a black miniskirt and a red halter top that matches her hair.
I’m not sure how I missed her arriving.
With a slight curl to her ruby lips, she runs a cursory glance over my frame, her eyes widening as if she sees something weird. Feeling paranoid, I pat down my hair where I’ve been twisting it.
I don’t respond to her question about who I am. I’ve had enough of this place and these people.
“Let’s go play darts, Z. It’s too crowded over here.” She dismisses me and turns her attention away, her lashes fluttering up at him as she runs a possessive hand over his shoulders. There’s a familiarity in her touch, as if she’s known him for a long time.
He shrugs, his eyes never leaving me. “You go on, Veronica. I’m sure my brother is looking for you.”
“He’s upstairs somewhere. I thought maybe we could hang out—”
“No,” he bites out.
Her face falls, a sullen expression settling in. She darts a glance at me before looking back at him. “But why—”
“I said go.”
She huffs and opens her mouth as if she might say something else but then decides against it, her teeth clamping together. “Fine.” She does a pivot and flounces off.
“Girlfriend?” I ask, watching her leave, trying to suss out what’s going on.
“Fuck no.”
This is when things get really weird.
Zack Morgan just stares. And stares.
Warm tendrils of heat slide over me at his scrutiny.
Then he frowns as if he can’t figure out what I am.
“I’m human,” I say, and it’s such an utterly ridiculous statement to make, but he doesn’t even blink.
We stand in the middle of the floor with bodies dancing around us, neither of us moving as his gaze moves from the top of my hair to the bottom of my black UGG boots, a gift from Mara. There’s a quizzical look on his face as he sizes me up, and a few ticks later, he physically winces as if something about me is…unpleasant.
But I’m not unpleasant.
I’m no beauty queen, but I’ve had the attention of attractive guys. Bennett is gorgeous, the little cheater, and according to Mara I look just like Mama did at my age with her pale creamy skin, heart-shaped face, and long blonde hair. Unfortunately, my eyes are my father’s, wide and thickly lashed, a blue-green color.
“You…” His brow knits as he searches for how to finish his sentence.
Someone dances into me with a hard bump, and I lunge forward again, my cheek pressing against his chest. His hands clasp my upper arms, steadying me as he sets me a few inches away from him.
“Sorry,” I say.
His eyes drift over my face, lingering on my lips, and I swallow. He drops my arms as if they’re hot, and I rub them briskly, acutely aware of his touch.
Strands of “You’re Beautiful” by James Blunt come over the speakers, and color