Page 44 of Barristers & Bones

I looked down at my drab clothes. “Should I change?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. You’ll probably be mistaken for law enforcement or a social worker. Do you have anything sparkly?”

I laughed, then realized he was serious. “Hm, no.”

“Anything more celebratory or girls’ night out’?”

“You mean slutty and short?” I asked, trying to get under his skin.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

Grinning, I smacked his shoulder. “I’m teasing you, and I have a dress that might work. Come in while I change.”

He seemed resigned as he walked up the steps. “Alright. I’ll text Fiona and tell her it’ll be another hour.”

Why would it take an hour to change? “No, it won’t.” I could feel disbelief rolling off him.

Sylvie and I bought consignment designer dresses for a friend’s wedding last fall, and I hoped the silky, bronze slip dress would work. I changed into the dress, put on some makeup, and let down my hair.

When I walked out fifteen minutes later, Roman sat on the couch thumbing through my collection of books. He looked up, his body stilled, and his eyes traveled my length. “That will work.” I blushed and heat bloomed in my stomach.

He held up two books. “The Complete Works of Edgar Allen PoeandThe Joys of Tantric Sex? Interesting mix.”

“How do you know those are mine?”

He raised his eyebrow, and my face flushed when he held up the tantric sex book. “What have you learned?”

I shrugged and tried to grab the book out of his hands. “It has some ideas I’d like to try sometime.” I pointed to the Poe book. “And he’s still one of my favorite horror authors.”

“What specifically would you like to try?”

The flush on my face spread down my chest and settled in my belly, making my insides pulse. “There’s no way I’m discussing that with you.”

His eyes traveled over my face. “We discuss everything else, and we’re both adults. I think we can handle it.”

He was so wrong. Instead, we talked about Poe during the drive to Euphoria. “’The Tell-Tale Heart’ is his creepiest work,” I insisted, patting his thigh. “The man is slowly going mad, and the description of the beating heart in the floor balances horror and irony perfectly.”

He shook his head. “It might be in the top five, but ‘The Cask of Amontillado’ is more chilling. Being unable to stop someone from burying you alive is the worst form of psychological torture.” The tone in his voice made me wonder what he’d been thinking about.

When we walked into Euphoria, pulsing music hit us. Even with the elevated noise level, the low lights and plush furniture gave off a sensual, intimate quality, and dancers moved across the stages in undulating moves that blatantly simulated sex.When Roman put his hand on my back, goosebumps erupted across my skin.

He leaned in so I could hear him over the noise. “Come sit for a minute, and I’ll let Fiona know we’re here.” His breath brushed across my bare shoulder, and I tried to hide a shiver. Roman smelled faintly of cedar and spice, and the warmth from his hand seeped into me. He’d been an asshole when we first met, but the more time I spent with Roman, the more I grudgingly liked the man. He didn’t seem to like me, though. I needed to keep my head firmly in place and not do anything stupid.

Misty danced on one of the stages, winding herself around a pole, wearing an aqua-colored thong and nothing else. The first time I met her, she explained that the dancers couldn’t be completely naked if the club served alcohol, hence the thong. Her firm, high breasts had likely been augmented, but they weren’t overly large.

Roman led us over to an intimate two-top a couple of rows back from where Misty danced. There were chairs around the edge of the stage, and a few men sat there, empty glasses and detritus strewn on the bar ledge in front of them.

A pretty server in skintight boy shorts and a small off-the-shoulder blouse came over. “Welcome to Euphoria. My name’s Candy. What can I get you to drink?”

Roman bent his head near the girl’s ear. “Let Fiona know Roman is here. And I’ll have a whiskey neat.” He turned to me.

“A perfect vodka martini with a twist, straight up, please.” I raised my voice above the music.

Candy turned and blatantly scanned Roman. “One whiskey neat, and one perfect vodka martini, lemon twist, straight up.” She smiled and walked off, her ass and hips swaying provocatively.

Roman kept his eyes on me. “A vodka martini?”

“You seem surprised.”

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