Page 82 of A Summer of Stars

“Gin and tonic with three cherries. It’s on me tonight.” I winked and slid him my card.

Laughter shot from him. “Oh, wow, how gentlemanlyof you. I think I can handle a few drinks.” Lines of joy formed in the crevices of his cheeks before he turned to the bar.

I averted my eyes. Staring at Kieran’s ass was definitelynotthe action of a sane human being.

I did my best to focus on the older couples swaying at their tables, cigarettes and cocktails in their hands.

The buzz of the saxophone, the warmth of the low lamp light, and the intimacy of the room filled me with butterflies. A Frenchman’s voice sounded from the stage. “For this next song, we’ll need you to grab the hand of your mister or missus for a dance.”

Chairs screeched against the floor, and many of the tables were scooted out of the way with urgency as the music picked up. Heels joined dress shoes on the makeshift dance floor. I covered my mouth in surprise as an older gentleman spun a woman as if he wasn’t a day over twenty.

“Dance with me?”

I twisted abruptly to find Kieran with a determined look on his face. The last time he had asked me to dance was over a month ago, when I had just finished pressing my heel into his foot.

Now. Well…

Now, I knew almost nothing.

All I could be sure of was that Kieran’s eyes and voice and lips were an intoxicating, seductive combination that should be illegal in every nation. It was too dangerous. So dangerous that it was poisoning his worst enemy and making her question whether there was ever a reason to dislike him.

No,no. There were so many reasons to dislike him.

Like all of the terrible things he said about me the night we met. Or the way he looked at me when I argued his points. Or how he entered my personal space when something went sideways. Or when he grabbed my hand as if we were romantics. Or how his dark hair perfectly complemented his eyes and pierced me without any remorse. Andespeciallywhen he had kissed me as if this were more than an act.

It was all so… deplorable.

An older woman sitting to my left cut off my train of thought. “Dance with the young man, you heard him!” she interjected with horror. “Or I will.” She looked him up and down.

“Yes,” I quickly said, accepting his handandsaving him.

He pulled me in and held me close. My heart hiccupped as ourlips almost brushed. He held on to my waist with the casualness of an ordinary Tuesday night, as if his hands belonged there.

“You almost let her kidnap me right there!”

I suppressed all of those intimate thoughts, covering them with a smile. “Oh, come on, you’re telling me you haven’t been with an older woman before?”

His jaw dropped. “That woman looked about seventy years old.”

My cheeks filled with bursting giggles.

He scoffed. “You really do think I’m some womanizer!”

“Men as pretty as you always are,” I said.

“You think I’m pretty?” Boyish delight was in his eyes.

Holding in my laughter, I pushed his chest. He fought right back, grabbing my wrists and pulling me in. Heat flooded my body. I hated myself for it. If he hadn’t been holding on to me, I’d probably lean into him. The muscles in my legs were so tired. And my self-control was waning just as quickly.

My body was betraying me more and more.

“Are you still thinking about him?” His voice was gruff.

“Thinking about who?” I exhaled.

“Good,” he breathed.

I rested my hands behind his neck and let his dark hair brush against my wrists. He gripped my hips and governed their decisions, his fingers catching on the gold buttons down my side. Left, right, left, right, left, right. We followed the whistle of the saxophone together.