What would I give for one taste of your lips?
One night in your arms?
I’d trade it all.
The song seemed to affect Lance as well. There was a fire in his eyes, hinting at a need that mirrored her own.
For Lexi.
To him, we’re the same.
Inhibitions temporarily pushed aside, Willa waved her arms, matching the movements of the dancers behind her. She threw herself into the energy and the power of the crowd. As more and more people came forward, stripped off their business attire and began to dance in T-shirts and cut-off jeans, Willa shifted away from Lance to move in unison with them. They formed a large semicircle that covered the lawn and flowed out onto the sidewalk behind.
The words of the song fanned Willa’s confusion.
You looked right through me, walked right by.
But you see me now.
Come on, give me one taste, one night.
We’ll do it all.
She let the music flow through her, drive her movements. Her eyes held Lance’s even though they were twenty or so feet from each other.
I may have been easy enough to forget before. She glanced at him over her shoulder and deliberately wiggled her ass at him. But try to forget this.
What had started as an interesting and productive day had derailed into a spectacle Lance was struggling to make sense of. If his cock’s judgment could be trusted, there was no way in hell the woman who had just congratulated him was Lexi Chambers. He’d found many women attractive in his near thirty years, Lexi being one of them, but only one woman had the irritating ability to give him a public boner.
Willa Chambers.
The flash mob organized into four lines of dancers with Willa in the front. The overall scene might have been impressive but, like a schoolboy, Lance’s attention was drawn to the bounce of two perfectly rounded breasts. His gaze lingered on Willa’s deliciously long, bare legs before she spun, and he was treated to the equally tantalizing view of her perfect little ass beneath a skirt that barely covered it. She shook that delightful derriere back and forth with a seductive rhythm, until all he wanted to do was reach out and haul it against his throbbing cock. Lance gritted his teeth and forced himself to look away. There were many women dancing, several with more provocative outfits than Willa’s, but they couldn’t hold his attention. Every move Willa made, every time their gazes met and clashed, Lance’s blood pounded in a possessive, primal way.
That has to be Willa.
His body knew hers, remembered every intimate, delectable inch of her. There was no way to block the memories of her tongue eagerly meeting his. How was it possible that none of the women he’d been with over the past ten years had shaken him to the core as she had? Yes, she was gorgeous, but why Willa? He didn’t regret much in his life, but if he could go back in time he would have stayed away from her that week.
Or been with her every week since.
His only excuse was he’d been young with a disproportionate ratio of more hormones than brains. He’d considered himself intelligent, but with her he’d been a bumbling fool—making mistake after mistake until he’d ruined any chance they’d had of being together.
Proof of the level of his screwup was the length of time Willa had held a grudge. She was civil to him in social situations, but that was all. At first, he’d tried to make amends. She’d said she never wanted to see him again, and he’d wanted to understand why. Eventually, out of respect for her friendship with his sister, he’d backed off. Time should have smoothed things over between them, but it hadn’t. One night. It shouldn’t still be that big of a deal, but it was. He’d given up hope that she’d ever forgive him. His cock, on the other hand, had remained more optimistic.
Normally, Willa made every effort to avoid Lance. So why is she dancing for me? And why pretend she’s Lexi?
“Congratulations on getting the Capitol Complex,” Clay said and gave his shoulder a clap of approval.
Lance shook his head to clear it. “That’s what this is about?” He yanked his attention away from Willa long enough to assess Clay’s expression. “What if I hadn’t closed the deal today?”
Clay smiled smoothly. “My plan B was to have her say, ‘Better luck next time.’ Either way, it’s quite a show; am I right?”
“You have too much time on your hands.” Lance turned his attention back to Willa. I know what I’d like on my hands. On my anything. Lance groaned. Stop. This is how I fucked it up the first time.
“Having fun?”
No. This is torture, that’s what it is, Lance thought but didn’t say.
“Your sister has beautiful taste in friends. Twins. Seriously. And you’ve known them since high school? Tell me you’ve had them both, preferably together. No, don’t tell, it’ll ruin my fantasy of doing the same.”
The idea of Clay with Willa sliced through Lance. He snarled, “Shut the fuck up.”
Clay raised his hands in mock fear. “Not even willing to share one? I’ll take either. Honestly, I can’t tell them apart.”
“Then you’re blind. That’s Willa.”
Clay’s eyebrows shot up. He turned his head to watch Willa as she was picked up and twirled around by a male dancer. “Not Lexi? Do they pretend to be each other often? That’s hot.”
“No, it’s not,” Lance said unhappily. We’ve known each other for twelve years. Does she think I would ever confuse them now?
Clay rubbed his chin and looked Lance over again. “Just ask her out.”
With a frown, Lance leaned in aggressively. “Drop it.” He hadn’t known what to think of Clay when Dax and Kenzi had first brought him around. Lance didn’t have much respect for the typical super-rich silver spoons, who had been handed their fortunes. They were often weak, vain, and in search of entertainment regardless of how it affected others. He, on the other hand, had been brought up with a strong work ethic and knew what a day’s work meant. He was no silver-spooner.
Lance was an architect. His buildings were designed to stand the test of time and weather. Extremely utilitarian. He and his brothers had worked hard to achieve what they had. Yes, they’d been given large trust funds, but only after they’d already established themselves. They didn’t have time to be bored or plan fucking flash mobs.
Dax had warned Lance that Clay had been born with more money than God and would go to extreme lengths to avoid boredom. Which explains gyrating dancers instead of a card.
Dax had joked that Clay looked lonely since he’d been spending so much time with Kenzi. He’d asked Lance to include him in on a project. Clay not only wouldn’t expect compensation, he would bring his network of connections to any endeavor.
But this—this is him fucking with me.
He’s testing how I feel about her.
Yes, Clay had real estate expertise for the city project Lance had bid on, but he had yet to share any of it. Clay’s appreciation for historical buildings and his reputation for optimizing the value of a property was the main reason Lance had agreed. However, the price of working with Clay was proving higher than it was worth.
He asked personal questions a Barrington would never ask, never mind answer. His general level of interest in all things Barrington had been one reason Lance had agreed to entertain him. He’d wanted to shift Clay’s attention to something besides the inner workings of his family. It had worked.
And now, it had backfired.
Clay looked amused. “So angry. Why? You shouldn’t want to punch me for having the woman you’re lusting over dance in that skimpy outfit, you should thank me. I don’t even have feelings for her, and it’s turning me on.”
Lance raised a hand to grab the front of Clay’s shirt as a rush of anger surged through him. It was only the pleased expression on the other man’s face that held him in check. Clay was trying to get a rise out of him, and it was working. Lance took a deep breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in frustration. “You need to back the fuck off.”
“May
be,” Clay said with a chuckle.
“What the hell is your problem?” Lance growled. No amount of expert advice is worth this shit. Lance turned away from Clay and realized the music had ended, the dancers had dispersed, and Willa was gone. He swore beneath his breath.
“What would stop you from hooking up with her?” Clay gave Lance a long measured look. “She was upset when she saw you. You have history, don’t you?”
“No,” Lance lied. What he’d shared with Willa was none of Clay’s business. “Stop looking for something where there is nothing.”
“Good, I could have a go at someone like that.”
