“Get naked and ask questions later.” Jordan laughs at his own joke—loudly. Emerald Dress is close enough to hear him now and glances up at us. My eyes catch hers for just a heartbeat, long enough to see that they’re a smoky blue, maybe gray? Without the slightest reaction at all, she continues her conversation with a brunette about the same age in a white dress, turning her back to us. No one seems to even notice the moment but me.
My sister wanders over. She’s my date for the night, like she always is when I have an event and I’m single. Stephanie smiles brightly at me. “This place is really awesome! Even the bathrooms are state of the art. And the changing rooms look more like a fancy spa than a gym locker room. You have to check it out.”
I nod. “I will.”
Stephanie sighs. “I’d kill for another glass of champagne.”
I glance at my now empty martini glass. “I’ll find you some.”
“Merci.” Steph smiles. and I give her a wink.
I walk over to the bar, which will serve as a juice bar when this place opens, but right now it is covered in bottles of liquor. There’s a pretty redhead behind the counter smiling at me as I approach. “You’re Sebastian Deveau.”
I smile and respond in French, because women love that shit. “Oui.”
Her smile deepens and her eyes get wide with excitement. “I love you. I’m a huge Winterhawks fan and you’re my favorite. I was at the game where you got that scar.”
She points to my chin, and I lift my hand and trace the small white line that runs along my jaw where the end of a stick from a Los Angeles Sinners player caught me last season. It wasn’t that big a deal, but I remember there was a ton of blood all over the ice, and it looked fucking gross.
“I was so scared for you. But you came right back out after they stitched you up and finished the game.” She tilts her head and sighs, her eyelashes fluttering like a Southern belle admiring her Prince Charming. I chuckle.
“Yeah, it looked worse than it was. And hey”—I grin cockily—“clearly chicks love scars.”
She looks confused by that and blinks her big blue eyes. “But it was horrible to see you hurt. You don’t need a scar to look good.”
I nod and realize that she’s so not my type. “That’s very sweet. My sister is dying for more of that champagne they were pouring earlier. Do you happen to have some?”
“I’ll grab a fresh bottle from the back,” she says with a smile and scurries off.
I’m about to turn and scan the hefty crowd for Emerald Dress again, but suddenly she’s standing in front of me. She’s holding a bottle of the champagne I’ve been looking for. Her eyes lock on mine, and her posture straightens. Her eyes are a deep, smoky gray color just like I’d thought but this close I can see the flecks of blue and green peppered around her irises. Her brown hair is messy in that way that’s on purpose, and her skin is this amazing ivory color with freckles across the bridge of her nose she’s trying to diminish with subtle makeup. Her body is even more perfect up close than it appeared across the room. She’s lithe but tight and toned.
I smile my special reserve smile. The one I only break out for special occasions that involve special people I am not just trying to impress but trying to undress. She takes it in, starts to turn pink and lowers her eyes. For a second I’m disappointed. Is she a delicate flower type? Damn, I hope not.
“Just what I was looking for,” I murmur and wait before adding, “Veuve Cliquot.”
“We might be out,” she says, the pink tinge to her cheeks receding as she tips the bottle in her hand to show it’s empty. “But if you flashed that smile at Sara she’s probably off wrestling the last glass out of someone’s hand just to give it to you.”
I fight a laugh. “You like my smile?”
“I didn’t say that,” she answers quickly, and a sexy little smirk covers her own pink lips. “And I’ll never say that, because women like Sara will say it enough for the rest of us.”
So much snark. I think I’m in love. IknowI’m in lust.
“Great party,” I say to her as a compliment because she might be the caterer if she knows the staff’s first names. “And this place is incredible. I don’t think Seattle has ever had such a high-tech gym.”
“Fitness center,” she murmurs back and her voice is soft and sexy. “Elevate Fitness is for the marathoners, the Iron men and women, the professional athletes looking to take it to the next level or for the housewife, businessman and average Joe looking to change their lifestyle.”
“You’ve got their slogan memorized?”
She points to my empty martini glass. I nod and watch every move as she slowly turns and bends, her hips twisting and her ass jutting out toward me as she leans over to pick up the bottle of Grey Goose.Mon Dieu,the things I will do to her when she lets me…
“I should. I wrote it.” She gives me another sexy little smile. So she’s not the caterer. She works here. Instructor or business manager or…Avery had mentioned the owner, Trey, was “married to a great girl”…fuck. Is she Trey’s wife?
“I teach classes here,” she clarifies before I have time to panic.
“Let me guess…” I let my eyes wander slowly over her, leaning on the counter to get a gratuitous look at her long, shapely legs. “Spin class instructor?”
She shakes her head and slides my drink over to me. I make sure my fingers graze hers as I take the glass off the counter. The feel of her skin sends a ripple down my spine right into my groin. Fuck, she is already under my skin. I’ve never experienced something so intense so quickly before, and it makes me move away first. She likes that. It makes her blush again.
