But that would never happen. I would never let it. And even more, Isla would never let it happen. I’d actually been a little surprised at how much she hated the idea of pretending to date me. Although, I was grateful for that. She and I were on the same page, neither of us wanting more than friendship. That was one of the things that made us work so well.
Smiling, she plopped into the seat next to me, her cheeks flushed, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the dancing or from her knowing I was blatantly checking her out.
“That was so fun,” she breathed out. “But my feet are killing me in these shoes.” She put out her leg, the one with the slit, to show me her high heel.
Man, she had great legs.
“Are you trying to turn me on?” I asked, with a hint of humor.
“Wh-what?” she stammered.
I pulled her chair closer to mine so I could lean down and whisper in her ear, testing the waters. “You showing me that slit has me thinking about how good it would feel to run my hand up your leg, all the way up.”
I watched her profile and saw her eyes widen before she quickly recovered and bit her lip. “Are people watching?” she asked in a whisper, but looked at me like we were two people wrapped up in our own world.
I didn’t know for sure, but I assumed someone was. I’d bet money that old lady Marabeth was staring at us for the hundredth time tonight. “Yes.”
Realization dawned on her face, like what I was doing made sense now.
She slid her hand up my arm until she rested it on my chest, leaning into me. “Maybe we’ll have to try that out, then.” Her seductive tone had me adjusting in my seat.
She leaned in even closer, her hand still on my chest as she took her turn to whisper in my ear. “Two can play this game, Slate.”
Whoa.
When she pulled back, she had a wicked smile on her face. “Now come dance with me.”
She took my hand, and I let her pull me up and out to the dance floor.
I wasn’t sure what had just happened back there at the table, but I definitely hadn’t expected to see a side like that from her. I didn’t know what had come over me, but the persona I used in situations like this had come to the surface way too easily.
A slow song played, soft notes coming out of some speakers on the floor. Isla stopped, turning around, and placing her arms around my neck.
Placing my hands on her waist, I cleared my throat. “Sorry about that back there,” I said quietly. “Old habits.”
She cocked her head. “Old or current?”
She had a point.
“Current habits, I guess.”
Her eyes looked happy, no signs of annoyance or anger, as she gave me a small smile. “It’s okay, Slate,” she assured me. “We’re pretending.” She pushed some of her hair over her shoulder, giving me a sassy look. “And I couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
I chuckled. “So you thought that was fun?”
“Watching you squirm and not know how to handle my response?” she said, a giddy look in her eye. “Oh, yeah, it was definitely fun.”
“I was not squirming,” I protested. “I was just surprised.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” She didn’t look like she believed me at all. “I thought someone like you didn’t get surprised by women being forward.”
“Surprised by a woman being forward? No. But a friend? Yeah, that’s new.”
I slid my hands around her waist and placed them on her lower back, pulling her closer to me, our bodies now touching. She inhaled sharply, my words contradicting my actions.
“We were dancing like middle schoolers,” I explained.
She nodded and moved one of her hands to play with the short hair at the nape of my neck. “Better?”
