The ass that Dean was staring at right now as she poured herself a drink, hip cocked to the side.
He didn’t even hide it when she turned around, dragging his gaze lazily back up her body. Whew, boy. She needed to either do something about that or shut it down. Probably.
It was getting to be that time of night. She stopped where Jackie was standing against the wall, nursing a Diet Coke. “You heading back to the bus soon?”
Her friend shrugged. “Soon, maybe. You want a chaperone?”
“Stop it.”
“If you aren’t riding him like a bronco by the end of tour, I call dibs.”
Liana’s mouth twitched, because there was no way her guitarist wanted Dean right now. “You want him? He’s all yours.”
Jackie groaned. “You know.”
“Just a guess.” She glanced around for Andrew, who was nowhere in sight. “He’s cute and serious. Exactly your type. And you’ve both been extra-professional. That was the giveaway.”
“It’s just a fling.” Jackie cleared her throat. “He went back to the bus a few minutes ago.”
“We’ll be a little while still, if you…”
“Nope. We’re not doing this. This is not summer camp and I don’t need a cover. Wipe your mind of whatever you’re thinking. This is not a group project.”
Liana laughed and threw her arms around her friend. “Okay.”
“Now go tell that polite Canadian boy that Southern girls like oral.”
“I think all girls like oral,” Liana muttered, her face turning red as she turned her back on Dean for a minute. Give the man another chance to ogle her ass while she pulled herself back together.
“Who likes oral?” West asked, draping his arm around her neck.
Where had he come from?
She groaned. “Go away. We’re having girl talk and you’re making me uncomfortable.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’m hurt. Normally I’m invited to all girl talks.”
“Those are fake. We have them just to throw you off our scent.”
“Wow. Stay up late enough and it all comes out.” He mock sniffed and patted her on the butt before sauntering off to get more beer.
This time when she turned around, Dean was definitely not looking at her ass. He’d sprawled back on the couch and was staring at a nothing point somewhere just past her shoulder.
Interesting.
She threw herself back on the couch next to him, close enough to resume their private conversation, although the way he wasn’t quite looking at her, she feared that was over anyway.
“Is that a thing, you and West?” he asked abruptly.
“No.”
“Just a musician thing, the touching?”
“Are youjealous?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Damn third drink.
He gave her a slow, careful look. “No.”
That annoyed her. Alcohol stripped away the protective layers that pretended she didn’t want to be special enough, to be worthy of a possessive feeling or two, even from—maybe if only from—a hot stranger. She wrinkled her nose and took another sip of her Jack and Coke.
