“I can put it on your room tab.”
“Charge the card.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I insulted you,” Gabriel said. “What can I do?”
“I’ll get over it.”
“I won’t.”
She arched a dark eyebrow. “I think you will.”
The bartender returned. She scribbled a tip, slid the plastic into her pocket. With a delicate touch, she lifted the glass, drained its contents.
Then, her intense gaze found his. “I’m out.”
She moved off the stool, made her way around the small dance floor and over to the wall of records. There, she began leafing through them.
Gabriel Santini was a player. He was also a womanizer. Never before had a woman walked away from him. She might be the enemy, but curiosity had him pushing off the stool and going after her. If anyone liked a chase, it was him. If anyone liked a challenge, it was him.
He approached her, she glanced over.
“I never thanked you for the drink.”
One acknowledgment nod before she went back to perusing the albums.
“Got a favorite?”
Ignoring him, she continued flipping through the records until she found one that caught her eye. She pulled it out, set it on the turntable.
It wasLynyrd Skynyrd’sdebut album. Seconds later “Free Bird,” the well-known classic rock song, filled the lounge. Several couples moved onto the dance floor.
“Interesting choice,” he said.
“My parents’ favorite when I was a child.”
Again, their gazes locked on each other. The more he stared into her dark eyes, the more he wanted to know about her. Intrigue and mystery were like shark bait to him. She was either playing coy or she was being honest. She had absolutely no interest in him.
His over-inflated ego didn’t know how to process this. He was the bossman.Everywhere. Cosa Nostra, Santini International Euro, Santini Wineries, and Santini Spirits. If he wasn’t running his businesses with an iron fist, he was leaving mayhem in his wake.
He ran the back of his finger down her soft cheek, the heat from her skin rocketing through him. Her whisper soft moanheld his attention. Like earlier, her hungry gaze moved from his eyes to his mouth. Then, up to his hair. Now, back into his eyes.
If he was going to make a move, it needed to be now.
Do it.
He clasped her hand, led her onto the dance floor. He didn’t ask, she didn’t resist.
The second he touched her, every cell in him came alive. Energy charged through him at an accelerating pace. When he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, her flowery, feminine scent filled his wicked, wicked soul, and he breathed her in.
In that moment he knew three things about the stranger in his arms. She was telling the truth about “Free Bird” being her parents’ favorite song… but that song meant something to her as well. And the third thing?
She was about as Russian as he was.
HALSTON
His alluring scentwrapped around her like velvet. He smelled like leather and whiskey… and a man. Her heart beat a little faster, the excitement charging through her at a maddening pace. He held her with a possessiveness that left her breathless, yet she felt no fear. The confidence roaring off him was an aphrodisiac, and she bit back a smile.