Page 2 of Guarded Hearts
“How much for five words?” The joy spilling out of her was contagious. I’d never spoken to her before, but the music of her voice was familiar. On the last tour, I heard her talking to her boyfriend on the phone backstage—lovesick or furious. Those had been her two moods. This playful vibe was new, reminded me of when she came off stage at the end of the night, relaxed, happy. Drunk on the high of the crowd. Tonight, she was just drunk.
Alyssa laughed and bumped my shoulder. “Next time, I’ll bet her ten dollars per word. We’d probably have to record the conversation. Nobody would believe me.” She laced her fingers with mine and tugged me out of the booth behind her, practically dragging me toward the bar. “I owe you a drink.”
“No, no, no.” I tried to extract my hand, but she hung on, and when we got to the bar, she looped my arm around her back, so she was pinned between my body and the wooden surface.
“One shot,” she said, holding up a finger, her eyes alight with mischief. “Just one. What’s the harm?”
I shook my head, but when she turned in my arms and ordered two shots of vodka from the very attentive bartender, I was a goner. Something about her spoke to me, or at least to my body in a way I didn’twant to deny, not just yet. Being the focus of her attention was new, unexpected, thrilling.Dangerous.
“If I drink both of these,” she said, dangling the two shots from her fingertips. “I’ll be too drunk, and I’ll have a massive hangover tomorrow. But if you drink one of them, you’ll be saving me.” She batted her eyelashes and grinned.
I took the shot from her fingers and cupped it in my hand. Peer pressure never worked. Without looking, I tossed the liquid over my shoulder. Would someone get doused with alcohol? Possibly. Most of the people in the VIP section were already out of their mind on something. A vodka shower added to the party. Besides, I’d have no problem taking care of myself if someone was pissed off.
She scoffed and then burst out laughing. “Hey, that’s my hard-earned money you’re throwing over your shoulder.”
“No,” I said. “It was your hangover.”
Alyssa eyed me above the rim of her shot and then swallowed the liquid. She waved to the bartender without looking, and he slid another vodka across the bar toward her as though they’d done this dance before.
When I glanced down, she smirked. “I’m not nearly that drunk yet.”
“Quit while you’re ahead?” An expression I learned from Mia, although I had to ask her to explain it the first time.
“You know, everyone says your English isn’t great. But, apart from an accent, which, personally”—she put the hand not holding the shot on her chest—“I find incredibly sexy. You speak really well. Why don’t you talk more?”
Instead of answering, I plucked the shot glass out of her fingers and drank its contents.Take the edge off.
A slow smile spread across her face. Once she rose on her toes, her lips grazed my ear, and my pants got even tighter. Getting this hard over the proximity of a woman was unsettling.
“I’ll be right back.” She stepped around me and headed to the booth where Amy held out another bill to Alyssa.
I shook my head. I wasn’t sure if her bets were impressive or annoying. When she slipped under my arm so she was pinned against the bar again, she waved the money in the air.
“Another?” she asked.
I braced my hands against the bar, one on either side of her. “Any more bets?”
She stared at me, and a smile threatened. “Amy wanted another one, but I said no.”
“Another bet? About what?” I didn’t mind the teasing, but I couldn’t figure out what she wanted. Was this a bit of fun on her part? Had she sensed my interest? Was she taunting me? Other bodies pressed against me, trying to get close to the bar, but I held firm, refusing to let anyone get near her or the space we’d claimed.
“I like this whole protective vibe,” she said, her finger circling our enclosed space. “All the guys I’ve known have been possessive, and that’s not the same as protective. So many of them don’t get that. You know?” She cocked her head, never breaking eye contact.
This was how I’d always been with women—my mother, Mia, my fiancée. In Russia, my friends had different codes of conduct and honor systems. Many thought women needed to be dominated, controlled, and I’d never understood why. Tyler Sullivan, Mia’s boyfriend, was the opposite of those men, and I liked him a lot, enjoyed his company.
Most women, at least the ones I found interesting, didn’t want to be controlled. In my experience, they wanted to be understood, and that took a lot more effort than asserting dominance.
“Listen,” she said before taking another shot I hadn’t realized she’d ordered. “Come dance with me.” She placed the empty glass on the wooden surface and tugged on my hand, which was braced against the bar.
I let her dislodge my grip and slide her fingers along mine. She had such soft hands.
“I don’t dance.”
Without my arms creating space around us, other people gathered close, too close for my liking. My job with Mia was to create space, to keep people at bay, and I was allowing myself to be trapped by the crush of the crowd to stay close to Alyssa.
She turned in my arms and placed some money onto the bar. Although the VIP section had gotten a lot busier, the bartender picked her out of the crowd with almost no effort on her part. When she crooked her finger to lean closer, the bartender came across the bar so her lips were almost against his earlobe.
I gritted my teeth at the close contact. Maybe I had a bit of possessiveness after all. I’d never had Alyssa’s undivided attention before, and it annoyed me to lose it.
