She snorted. “I’m doing no such thing. You kind of remind me of that creepy kid at high school… What was his name again? Robert? Roger? Roger Edgar. That’s it. He spent all his time darting around corners, hiding the tent pole in his pants. Get some self-control, dude.”
He released her hand. “Creepy? Roger freaking Edgar?”
This was fun. She was actually enjoying herself. She shrugged. “You’re the one sitting there with a boner. You’ll terrify your charity guys, walking in with that thing pointing at them.” The look on his face was priceless, and unable to rein it in, she laughed her ass off. When she finally got herself somewhat together, she glanced over at him, and the remaining chuckles died a sudden death. The heat aimed her way should have turned her to ash.
He slipped his hand around the back of her neck and leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You can deny it all you like, but I know you’re wet right now, and if we were on our own, I’d pull the car over and fuck you with my fingers until I was covered in you. I’d make you scream my name until you were clenching helplessly around me, begging me to slide my cock inside you.”
She was close to begging now. “Deacon…” she started.
“So, how was your day?” He sat back in his seat, like he hadn’t just set her underwear on fire with those whispered words. “Have the restoration jobs come in?”
Shit. If he could turn it off just like that, no way was she giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to her. She did her best to appear unaffected and smirked. “Worried? Afraid we might actually prove you wrong?”
He looked down at her, gaze so intense she shivered. “I know you don’t believe this, but I don’t want you to fail.”
Her stomach flipped, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. “Yeah, right,” she choked out.
He chuckled. “Stubborn.”
She lightly punched him on the arm. “You love it.”
Those extraordinary green eyes darkened. “You’re right. I do.”
Her mouth went dry, and she forced a careless laugh even though the blood was pumping through her veins fast enough to make her light-headed. The car slowed, then pulled to a stop. Thank God. “Oh, look, we’re here.”
“So we are,” he said, humor in his voice.
They climbed out, and Deacon rested his hand on the small of her back, steering her into Jaspers. She’d always wondered what it looked like inside the exclusive members-only club. The lighting was soft, and a guy played piano in the corner. The walls were dark wood, as were the tables and chairs. There were several deep red couches placed around the room, and the waitresses wore flapper-style dresses. The whole ambience was ultra-cool, totally chic and sophisticated, but somehow warm and welcoming.
“Shit,” Deacon said under his breath.
“What?” She looked up at him, and her stomach dropped at what she saw.
“I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t know they were bringing their wives.”
Great.
His hand settled on her waist as he led her toward a table off to the far side. Both the men sitting there looked older than Deke; the women, she guessed, were a similar age to her. And that’s where the similarities ended. They were all hair and legs and caked-on makeup. “Jesus,” she said under her breath.
“Yeah,” Deacon agreed. “Watch Tammy, the brunette—she can be a catty bitch.”
“Awesome.”
He rubbed her back. “I’ll get it over with as quick as I can.”
“Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She pouted up at him. “You want me to simper and bat my lashes at you so you don’t feel left out?”
He laughed softly. “Don’t you dare.”
The four of them turned to watch as they neared the table, and she felt like the weird goth girl at school who’d somehow gotten a date to prom with the captain of the football team.
Deacon introduced her, and after a once-over from the men and matching pinched smiles from the women, she took the seat next to Deke. They were judging her, just like she had them. But going by the way they stared at her, the way they looked like they were sucking lemons in an effort to maintain those terrifying smiles, she knew her first impression would prove accurate. They saw the ink and immediately saw her as beneath them. White trash.
Deke got straight to business beside her. He sat stiff in his chair, his voice low and clipped, and she knew he hadn’t missed the looks she’d gotten. She kept her focus on him. It was either that or make small talk with the mean girls across from her.
“Alex, isn’t it?” Tammy said, forcing her to look over at them.
Here we go. The cow knew damn well what her name was; Deke had only introduced her five minutes ago. Alex plastered a smile on her face, as fake as the bulging cleavage exploding from Tammy’s dress. “Yup. That’s me.”
Tammy tilted her head and flicked her hair over her shoulder in a move she no doubt practiced in the mirror. “So, how long have you known Deacon?” There was a note of triumph in her voice, and something else, like the woman had some nasty secret and she was just dying to pull that shit out of her ass and fling it across the table at Alex.
“Since I was ten. Me and Deke go way back. You?”
The woman’s eyes widened, then narrowed, lips lifting on one side in a calculated way. If Tammy’s face wasn’t frozen from a crapload of Botox, she’d no doubt have an I-just-won-the-motherfucking-lottery expression on her face. “Ah, I know you. You’re the poor unfortunate orphan girl who hung around the Wests. Yes?” She turned to her friend. “You know, the one Emily told us about.”
Emily? What did Deke’s ex-wife have to do with this?
“Well. How nice of him to bring an old friend. He’s a great philanthropist. Never misses a chance to expand his charity work.”
Tammy’s friend giggled.
Nice.
These women knew all about her, somehow knew of her past and her connection to the Wests. Alex didn’t share that part of her life with anyone. They were obviously friends of Deke’s ex. Why would Emily waste her breath talking about her?
They were watching her like sharks circling a dying seal, waiting for an opening to take another bite. Alex grinned—it hurt to do it, but she was pretty sure she pulled it off. “Yeah, Deke’s a prince among men.”
The woman’s sharp blue eyes narrowed farther, obviously unhappy Alex hadn’t crumpled into tears or stormed from the bar. “So…” Tammy’s gaze moved over Alex’s upper arm. “You like tattoos?”
Was this bitch for real? She felt Deacon stiffen beside her and rested her hand on his thigh, silently asking him to leave it. “No, my pimp held me down and made me get it. You?” Deacon made a choking sound but didn’t say a word.
Tammy forced a laugh. “Oh, you’re funny. And no, I don’t. I’ve always found them to be rather common.” The superiority she managed to slip into her high-pitched voice was impressive.
Alex sat back and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Body piercings?”
Tammy’s eyes widened, then she and her friend laughed. “Ah…no.”
Alex leaned into Deacon, who had turned in his seat and was openly listening now, tension rolling off him. “Deacon loves my nipple piercing. Don’t you, baby?”
To her surprise his lips twitched, and when he looked down at her, humor danced in his eyes. He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. “It’s sexy as hell,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.
Poor Tammy nearly choked on her pinot gris. “See, Tammy. You should totally get one.”
Deacon actually chuckled, earning him a frosty glare. He stood then and shook hands with the men at the table, then he took hers and with a stiff nod at the ladies led her from the bar.
“Hey.” He slid his hand around her waist, fingers digging into her flesh in a possessive way that felt really good. “I’m sorry about that. If I’d known Tammy would be here, I wouldn’t have made you come. She’s never come to these dinners before.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “She’s actually a friend of Emily’s.”