He didn't walk out on me the first time.
You know what I mean.
Yes. And she hated it when her sister was right. Neva's amusement swam through her mind again, and Savannah smiled reluctantly. Gotta go do some work. I'll talk to you tomorrow.
After you talk to Mom and Dad.
Duncan's right. Marriage has turned you into a nag. Savannah broke the connection between them in the midst of her twin's laughter and strode towards the front steps, although, after ten years of not wearing five-inch spike heels, it took a lot of concentration not to fall flat on her face.
The heels tapped against the concrete as she climbed the steps, a soft tattoo of sound that seemed to carry easily over the thump of the music. The security guard near the door leisurely looked her up and down, and a wide grin split his lips.
"Ain't seen you here before, darling,” he said, his voice as deep as his gaze was appreciative.
A warm flush of satisfaction swept through her. In that moment, she felt both extremely feminine and utterly sexual, neither of which she'd felt since leaving Rosehall.
And that made her angry—at herself, more than anything. Damn it, she was a woman, a sexual, sensual woman, and she occasionally deserved to be the object of complete and unreserved lust. Yet that was something the ranger part of her never had been, not in all the long years she'd been back in Ripple Creek. And it was a sad indictment of how badly she'd been burned by Cade that she'd let such a vital part of her be buried for so long.
Still, it was better late than never. And if Kel's brother didn't recognize her in this outfit—an outfit Nelle had once labeled “the erotic bikie"—no one would. Hell, she'd gone to school with Tane, had actually had a major crush on him between the years or nine and ten, and she had kissed him more than once in year eleven. A flirt? Oh yeah, she had been one back then, as Ronan could attest.
With a grin tugging her lips, she exaggerated the swing of her h*ps and sashayed towards Tane. The chains dangling from her skirt chimed in time with the rap of her stilettos, and the cool breeze caressed the parts of her bare legs and stomach not covered by her long leather coat. Given how little she was really wearing, she should have been freezing. She wasn't. The exhilaration of strutting her stuff in front of an appreciative audience was more than enough to keep her warm.
"And you may not see me again,” she purred as she neared him. “So enjoy the experience while you can."
"Oh, I am.” He chuckled softly and doffed his hat to her as he opened the door. “Enjoy your night, miss."
"Clara,” she said. “And thank you."
He nodded, his gaze lingering, causing a heat she could feel way down to her toes as she walked into the semidarkness of the nightclub. If she'd been a cat, she would have started purring. Even though there was only one man she wanted, that didn't stop her enjoying the attention of—she stopped the thought short. Cade was the only man she could have right now, but he certainly wasn't the only man she wanted.
Because he didn't want what she wanted.
But what if he did?
She pushed the thought from her mind. Why entertain the idea when it was never going to happen?
She walked across to the cashier, paid her entrance fee and handed in her coat. Then she moved to the shadow-filled corner between the cashier and the long, black steel and chrome bar that dominated the left side of the big room. The air was thick with the aroma of desire, sending an ache of anticipation through her limbs. She wondered if Cade was here yet. Wondered if she'd recognize him—or if he'd recognize her.
The heavy beat of the music was louder inside, and when combined with the frantic pulsing of the multicolored lighting, it had an almost hypnotic effect. She found herself tapping her foot despite the fact she normally hated techno.
There was a good crowd tonight. The dance floor was packed, and they were standing three deep at the bar. She saw several people she recognized, and a few teenagers who certainly didn't meet the eighteen-year-old entry requirement. Still, given her own experiences with the moon and desire, she wasn't going to make a fuss about it. Especially not tonight.
At the end of the long room were the heavy, paneled doors that led into the moon dance room. Two security guards were stationed there, and she knew their job was to check ID's and ensure no alcohol was taken into the smaller dance room. She also knew that the ID check wasn't as well enforced as her father would have wanted.
She looked upstairs, checking the balcony that ran around the room. Shadows moved in the darkness above, some obviously doing more than dancing to the techno beat. Others leaned on the railing, either catching the action in the shadows, or watching those on the dance floor. She couldn't see Denny upstairs, so maybe he was among the gyrating mass on the dance floor.
She walked down the steps and along the bar side of the room. At this level, so close to the moving mass of men and women, the air seemed so warm it was like breathing in liquid heat, and the musk of desire was so sharp that it the fueled the fires of her own need.
Yet she couldn't sate those needs, not even when she found Cade. They were here to catch the woman who'd paid Denny to leave the note, nothing more.
She found Denny at the back of the room, to the right of the entrance to the moon room. He was dancing with a spike-haired wolf who seemed to have more piercings than Savannah had toes and fingers, and who looked at least ten years older than Denny. Like most of the dancers, they seemed totally involved with the music, their bodies moving in sync with the frantic rhythm rather than each other. She continued on, trying to find Cade, but she didn't see anyone vaguely resembling him on this level. She turned around and headed for the nearby stairs. It would be easier to keep an eye on Denny from above, and she might be able to spot Cade from there, too.
The shadows closed in around her as she climbed, and the air became so cloying tiny beads of perspiration broke out across her skin. She grabbed a coaster off a nearby empty table and lightly fanned herself. Her scalp itched, and it was all she could do not to rip off the short, black wig. She leaned a hip against the balustrade and scanned the immediate shadows. Couples sat at the various tables or were pressed against the walls, talking and drinking and loving. None of the women were blonde or big breasted, and none of the men matched Cade's height or build.
Relief rolled through her. If she was honest, she had no more desire to share him with others than he had to share her, which was odd, because she'd had no such concerns in Rosehall. But then, he never did dance with anyone else. Only her. She'd been the one dancing with others—at least until they'd made the moon promise. Even then, she'd still danced with Jontee. Which Cade had wanted, because all he had wanted was Jontee. Not her.
And certainly not a declaration of love.
Hell, he couldn't even remember her saying it, though she could easily guess why. He'd been too busy getting ready to invade her mind.