Page 4 of Play Dirty

Now that’s not fair.

What red-blooded man is going to say no to dancing with a supermodel?

Certainly not me.

I get to my feet and let her pull me onto the dance floor.

She moves into my arms easily, one hand on my shoulder, the fingers of the other laced with mine. Etta James’s “At Last” is playing and Stevie seems to like the song, softly singing along.

“This was supposed to be my wedding song,” she says after a moment. “For the first dance. I mean, it wasmysong, since I was a little girl. And then Damien decided he didn’t like it. He wanted our first dance to be ‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye.”

I grimace. “Seriously? What kind of douche was this guy?”

She sighs. “I’ve always had bad taste in men. That’s why I’m not dating anymore.”

“Ever?” I ask curiously.

“Not for a long time. Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone will arrange a marriage for me, like in the old days.” She chuckles, like that amuses her.

“He’s out there, Stevie,” I say softly, pulling her close as I look down into her beautiful face. “I promise you, the right guy—someone who’ll love you and treat you like you’re the most important person in his world—is out there.”

She stares up at me, her eyes filled with confusion and what I can only describe as doubt. “If he is, I’ll never find him. For some reason, I walk right on by the good guys and make a beeline for the one who’s going to treat me like shit. Every serious boyfriend I’ve ever had has treated me badly.”

“Maybe you need to think about why you allow it,” I suggest.

Her body is warm and soft, and she fits against me perfectly.

Like our bodies were made to move together this way.

I can only imagine what making love with her would be like.

Obviously, my brain is on the fritz because it’s been a while since I got laid, but damn, she feels good.

“My therapist says it’s because my dad treated my mom that way, so it’s all I know. But it’s not. I have lots of friends who are in good, solid relationships. Saylor and Canyon. Jensen and Bailey. Even Effie and Connor. They’re not serious, but he treats her like a princess when they are.”

“Is that what you want?”

She seems to be giving that a lot of thought.

“In the past, I always thought I wanted to be treated like a trophy, because you take care of expensive, meaningful things, but I’ve begun to rethink that.”

“A man who makes you his princess already knows that you’re the prize. Never doubt that.”

“Is that what you do?” she asks. “I mean, when you were married?”

“I tried my best,” I admit. “It just wasn’t enough. Or maybe it’s me who wasn’t enough.”

She cocks her head and then slowly shakes it.

“I don’t believe that. Somewhere out there is a woman looking for a guy just like you. And you’re going to find her, Marty. I promise.”

Why do I suddenly have the most incredible urge to kiss her?

No. Bad, Marty.

Stop that line of thinking right fucking now.

“I hope you’re right,” I whisper against her hair.

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