Page 19 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Would you like to dance?” Ian asks.

Harmony’s gaze burns into my skin. Her nudging hand pushes me forward and I have no choice but to smile and say, “I’d love to.”

The music shifts, the tempo picking up as Ian leads me onto the floor. A small mercy, at least—another slow dance might’ve sent me straight into hives.

Not wanting to think about… well,anythingthat’s happened so far today, I turn my brain off and let the music take over. Ian follows, eager for any excuse to let his hands drift.

“May I cut in?”

Barry’s smug face fills my view. I dance with him, too. The music pounds in my ears, drowning out the echoes of vows andCanon in D.OfHere Comes the Brideand happily ever after.

“May I cut in?”

“May I cut in?”

“May I cut in?”

Faces blur into more faces, an endless parade of admittedly handsome men looking for a good time at a wedding they probably didn’t even want to attend. I don’t bother memorizing their names, their details.

I just dance.

I dance to forget. I dance to let go, to feel something other than heartache. The mix of expensive cologne and boozy breath makes my stomach churn, but I keep fucking smiling. A light sweat beads on my brow. My pulse skitters. I fight the urge to scream, to push them all away, to run.

It was never going to be me.

It was never going to be me.

It was?—

“I’m cutting in.”

The man I’m dancing with stiffens at the voice behind me. He gives a lazy salute and disappears, retreating into the crowd to get as far away as possible.

I turn, ready to lose even more of myself to yet another nameless, faceless suitor… and gasp.

Lightning crackles through me as I look up into the familiar blue eyes of Logan Shock.

7

KATRINA

“Logan,” I say, my knees locking in place.

He loops a hand around my waist. “Be cool, kitty,” he murmurs, his voice smooth as velvet as he pulls me against him, his other hand claiming mine. “Don’t make a scene.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Saving you.” His clean scent cuts through the haze of expensive cologne and whiskey breath still clinging to me. “Tell me, how many times has your ass been pinched in the last half hour?”

Heat floods my face, but I don’t answer. The music slows, and Logan leads me into a sway. I don’t fight him. Instead, I embrace the pause, letting my chin rest against his shoulder, his solid frame anchoring me in a way I can’t ignore.

All the while, my mind explodes.

Oh, god. Oh, god.

Shit, shit, shit.

Logan is here. I’m dancing with him.

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