Page 60 of No Match Found
“Just a Coke.” My breath of foggy strobe air hadn’t been calming enough to make me open to getting buzzed—or worse—in this type of environment. I liked tightly controlled conditions. That was how you got reliable data—not by introducing chaos, alcohol, and a bunch of other variables.
“Come on,” Leo coaxed. “I’m buying. Live a little.”
“Coke with lime?” I offered.
He chuckled, then communicated my order to the bartender.
Myeyes scanned the area for Grant with no luck. Had he never come in? It seemed unlike him. It was entirely possible he was here somewhere, sandwiched between people as he tried to find Leo and me.
Or maybe he was getting down on the dance floor.
“I’m so glad you came.” Leo’s 200-watt smile flashed me like its own strobe light.
“Me too.” I took the Coke the bartender slid toward me. “Though, I didn’t quite understand where I was coming, so I didn’t really dress for the occasion.”
Leo scanned my outfit. “You look amazing.”
His words released a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach and stains of heat on my cheeks. I hadn’t realized I was so susceptible to compliments, but the data were pretty clear on that.
He sipped his drink—a Scotch. “So, you’re the president of Matchify.”
I laughed lightly. “CEO, but yeah.”
“Love the ambition,” he said. “You probably work crazy hard.”
I waffled for a second over my response. “I don’t have a ton of spare time, but I enjoy my job enough that it doesn’t bother me.” My voice was already starting to hurt from having to speak so loudly.
The song changed, and Leo perked up. He downed the last of his drink, then set the empty glass on the counter, his shoulders moving with the beat. “I love this song. Come dance with me.” Stepping to the beat, he took the Coke from my hand and set it beside his empty glass.
I opened my mouth, then shut it. He was so excited about the song, I didn’t have the heart to turn him down. I let him guide me to the dance floor, but my gaze snagged on Grant, who was coming up to the bar.
His eyes met mine, then dropped to my hand in Leo’s before returning to my face, his expression unreadable.
There was no time for anything more as Leo’s pull brought me away from the bar and to the dance floor. He stopped, raised my hand above my head, then spun me around.
“Come on, Vivian,” he said, moving his muscular body in surprisingly limber ways. “Let loose a little. It’s Friday night!”
I spotted Grant through a gap in the crowd. He was still at the bar, his focus intent on Leo and me.
Leo grabbed my other hand, raising it up with the other one so. “Show me your moves, girl!”
I kept my own movements to a simple two-step, but my heart was hammering. If my goal for the evening had been discomfort, I had met and exceeded the quota. “What if I don’t have any?”
Leo frowned, then leaned in until his breath tickled my face. “What?”
“I said what if I don’t have any moves?” I almost yelled back.
“Uh-uh.” There was a smile in Leo’s voice. “I don’t believe that for a second.” He pulled back, his shoulders still moving with the beat as he looked me over, rubbing his lips together. “That body definitely has moves.”
My chest tightened. There was no kaleidoscope of butterflies, no flush of pleasure in my cheeks—just an uncomfortable clenching of my stomach.
He pulled me closer and set my hands on his broad shoulders, then moved his to my hips, his eyes everywhere but mine.
I removed my hands from his shoulders.
His grip on my waist tightened. “Don’t go.”
“I’ve never really liked dancing.” It wasn’t true. Katie, Brooke, Jackie, and I had hosted numerous dance parties during our college days. What I meant was that I didn’t likethisdancing.
