Page 21 of Baby One Last Time
“That’s more like it,” Jensen said.
The rest of the group, including X, took a glass. Some made the mistake of sniffing the concoction. Alder, Mai, and I demurred. Alder and I had too much experience with Jensen’s bar antics, and Mai was a fast learner. My respect for her kicked up a notch.
“If I may do the honors,” X said. She lifted her shot glass and looked around the room, making eye contact with each of us as she spoke. “You did good work tonight, all the more impressive given how quickly this team was put together.” She rested her gaze on me. Yeah, not my favorite thing in the world to be on the receiving end of X’s hawkish scrutiny. “Keep up the good work, Reindeer Team.”
TJ hoisted his glass in the air. “To the Reindeer Team.”
We all lifted our glasses. “To the Reindeer Team.”
X and Sparks sipped their shots, an amateur move, and grimaced. X actually went a little pale, which is tough to do for someone whose coloring is a few shades livelier than a corpse. The rest of us threw ours back, which wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped. The fizziness rose up in my sinuses and made my eyes water. I coughed as what could have been lighter fluid slid down my throat.
“What the hell?” Mai said, wiping tears from her own eyes. “You’d think something that looks like cotton candy would be sweet.”
Alder set down her glass and cleared her throat. “I do not want to know what he did to make it fizzy.”
“You don’t want to ask because you know I won’t tell you,” Jensen said. He took down his own portion in a long, slow pull, making the rest of us gag again.
X made a good show of teamwork by emptying her glass. She wished us a hearty goodbye, but she got the hell out of there fast, grabbing a bottled water on her way out the door.
Sparks fired up some music, something too hip for me to know, with a pounding bass. Penn showed off some of his best moves, which were to dancers what Jensen’s drinks were to bartenders. None of us appeared to have missed our calling for some other line of work.
Bond grabbed a bottle of tequila and filled clean shot glasses, while Alder talked Jensen down from trying any more alcoholic experiments, at least for the time being. We cleared our palates with the sharp spirits, then Bond, Alder, Mai, and I took seats on barstools, mine around the bend of the bar, which gave me a view of the entire room. Mai flashed me a look that said she wished she’d grabbed that seat. It’s a Tactical thing, always wanting situational awareness of the environment. Bond poured seconds for the four of us, while Jensen slipped behind the bar to plot his next disaster.
It wasn’t lost on me that I sat slightly apart from the others, in the group but somehow outside of it. Nothing new there. My ability to read a roomful of people in the space of a few heartbeats had been passed down to me from my mother, who had used her gift of perception to empathize with patients and to be, in my humble opinion, the best damn nurse on the planet. But I’d honed it into something sharper and more precise through years of being the new kid in school when my mother’s job and wanderlust moved us from place to place.
I could surround myself with friends within days of arriving in a new place because I’d developed my ability to know what everyone wanted and needed. My new friends always treated me like a forever friend, and to this day, some of them still stayed in touch through texting and social media. But I always knew what was inevitable: I’d leave again in a few months or a year at the outside. To save my heart, I always took care not to bond too tightly.
But I did love the chatter and camaraderie of a good party with friends, no matter how temporary, so I relaxed my shoulders and laughed at a stupid joke Jensen kept screwing up and Alder kept correcting. Across the room, Sparks and Penn had settled into seats across from TJ and Derek. The four glanced our way occasionally, their attention drawn by our laughter, but Penn—tight-jawed and frowning—made eye contact with me once, then pointedly averted his gaze.
It was clear not everyone on my team was a fan.
Alder and Jensen’s banter quieted down to a dull roar and conversations resumed. I did my best to immerse myself in my group’s discussion, but Derek’s subtle glances drew my attention like a magnet finding true north. His interest had finally superseded his pride. He held his first shot of tequila, still untouched. When I met his gaze, he lifted his glass a tiny bit higher in a private toast between us. He’d been waiting for me. I picked up my second shot of tequila and we drank together, our eyes locked.
When his glass was empty, he dropped his gaze to my breasts, squeezed into my too-tight top, and responded to the view with a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth, telegraphing his appreciation for my revealing attire. Apparently, I was forgiven for my earlier transgression and was allowed to see his desire for me. Whether it was pure lust or something more was difficult to say. Either way, the fact that I could read it meant he wanted me to know.
In our early months together, I’d tried to decipher how he hid his emotions so well from me. Some people were harder to read than others. A few were so exhausting to interpret, I only did it if it was part of the job. But if I expended the time and energy and risk—because not everyone loved becoming my open book—I had about a ninety-five percent accuracy rating. Compared to a little over sixty percent for the average woman and a slightly less than that for the average man, that’s hella high. Unfortunately, Derek fell into my five-percent blind spot. Over time, he’d learned even better how to scramble the signals I needed to read his intentions and predict his reactions.
But he had the answers to all my questions, and it was time to break through his well-constructed barriers to learn them. There was a way for me to disarm him, and it was so much fun, I usually did it to experience the sheer joy of it, not to uncover secrets. Later tonight, I’d do both. Once the party wound down and the team settled into their rooms, I’d make my move on my once and future lover.
With my plan fully formed, I shot him another private look, this one hinting at lascivious thoughts of the two of us naked and tangled in his sheets.
He returned a wicked grin. The man was thirsty as hell.
Game on.
Chapter 6
A few hours later,I knocked on Derek’s fourth floor door. Fortunately, he was the only resident up there, because I was wearing a tight white midriff tee shirt and light blue sweatpants shorts, exposing the remainder of the pink flamingo tattoo that I hadn’t been able to rub off with baby oil or scrub off in the shower. If anyone caught me wandering through the halls, I might be able to pass off my outfit as sleepwear. I couldn’t explain being on Derek’s floor, though, so he needed to hurry up and answer.
I tightened my hold on the Macallan in my left hand—another thing I wouldn’t be able to justify to TJ or my other teammates—and knocked a second time. I needed two things from him: information and sex. Probably in that order. Maybe. Or not.
I clocked the faint sound of him on the other side of the door and wondered whether it had taken him so long because he’d been asleep or because he’d been deciding whether to answer. He pulled open the door and stood in front of me with wet hair and his smokin’ body on full display, save for a white bath towel cinched at his waist to cover some of the tastiest bits. Third option: he’d been in the shower.
I firmly reordered the upcoming series of events in my mind. Sex first. I gave him a sultry smile. He knew my moves, having worked with me for many months and slept with me for half that time. But that didn’t mean he was immune to them.
He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. “What can I do for you, Cynthia?”
The list was long. And it was ever so naughty.
