tattooed on yourself, just to be on the safe side?’ Lauren suggested cheerfully.
‘Then there wouldn’t be any room left for the important stuff,’ Chris joked, pulling his T-shirt down and to the side so that Lauren could admire his latest body art. It was a dragon, with its wings spanning Chris’s entire chest.
Lauren lashed out at him as he turned, chuckling, and strolled back over to Blake, the biker chick. Again she looked at her watch. Tim was now very late.
‘Idiot!’ she grumbled, pressing her lips together sullenly. Fine, his loss! She returned to the house to mix a martini for herself and Blake. She turned up the stereo and undid her ponytail. This was a party, dammit, and even if the guest of honor had decided to stand her up she would not let him spoil her fun.
With a drink in each hand she left the kitchen a little while later and froze.
There he was, standing in the patio doors.
He was wearing jeans, a simple white T-shirt and a black leather jacket. His hair was casually falling into his eyes. Nothing about him resembled the lawyer she’d met in the elevator, and yet immediately she felt very close to him.
Her joy was mixed with anger at him for being late, but when he stepped closer and let his eyes wander over her body like a soft caress, the anger dissipated.
‘Hi!’
Jesus, even the simplest things made her knees melt!
‘I thought you’d forgotten.’
‘Of course I didn’t forget. I’ve just been thinking about what gift I should get you for your birthday.’
Lauren wished she could brush the hair from her face, but she was still holding those two martini glasses. ‘You brought me a gift?’ she asked in surprise, because he wasn’t holding anything in his hands.
He grinned a mischievous grin and turned to the large windows. Nobody was paying them any attention. Audaciously, he hooked his fingers around the belt buckles of her jeans and pulled her with him into a shady corner. Coaxing her against the wall, he tilted his head. She could feel his breath brushing her collarbone, and felt his lips against her ear.
‘It’s a somewhat selfish gift,’ he whispered, hugging her round the waist. By sheer force of habit she pulled in her stomach and held her breath. Her heart was beating against her chest, and the tension between them seemed to rise with every breath that she took. Slowly, he raised her hand that was still holding the glass. Then he guided it towards his mouth and emptied the drink into his throat, all the while looking into her eyes. She knew he could see that she was aroused and she could see that he was as well. Her breath quickened as she expectantly leaned into him.
‘Happy birthday, Lauren,’ he whispered, and his lips wandered from her collarbone up to her neck until they finally found her lips. The taste of gin on her tongue was intoxicating as she returned his kiss. Boldly, she rose up onto her tiptoes and tilted back her neck to deepen their kiss. It was only now, standing this close to him, that she realized how tall he was. He could have easily rested his chin on the top of her head. He caressed her back and spine until she buckled into him.
‘Seriously, Lorelei!’ Chris called out in fake outrage, and casually strolled past them in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Offering dessert to only one of your guests . . . That’s a bit rude, is it not?’
Lauren flinched, and Tim took a step aside, grinning. Ever the gentleman, he smoothed down her T-shirt and laughed when she nudged him in the side with her elbow.
‘You’re the dessert? What kind of party is this?’ he asked, obviously enjoying himself. Lauren glared at him.
‘Shut up, Chris! And what are you doing inside, anyway?’ Lauren asked, hurriedly following him into the kitchen.
‘Blake wants her drink,’ he explained, opening the icebox with the pre-chilled martini glasses inside.
‘Here, give her this one,’ Lauren offered him the glass she was still holding in her other hand, but Chris scrunched up his nose.
‘It’s been getting hot in here, and all the alcohol has probably evaporated by now. Besides, girls with a proper drink in them are . . . so much easier to conquer.’
He gave her a mischievous wink and poured a generous measure of gin into the mixer, along with some ice.
‘Idiot!’ Lauren muttered as Tim stepped behind her, placing a proprietary hand on her hip.
‘And that works? With girls from Vermont?’ he asked Chris, scrutinising his hostess’s face with a daring smirk.
‘Meh,’ Chris countered, laughing. He measured out the vermouth, and added it to the drink. Then he stirred the mix with a long spoon. ‘It always works, no matter where they’re from.’
‘You’re both crazy! Give me the vermouth, and get back to your biker chick!’ Lauren demanded, tearing the bottle from Chris’s hand, who in turn walked back to the refrigerator and grabbed two fresh bottles of beer. He handed one to Tim, who now leaned against the kitchen island at the center of the room.
‘You’ve invited a biker chick? Do I need to be worried?’ he asked, taking a sip from the bottle. Lauren’s eyes were stuck on Tim’s lips and she wanted nothing more than for Chris to buzz off so that she and Tim continue where they’d left off.
‘No, not you. She only wants to stab Lauren to death,’ Chris conceded matter-of-factly.
‘Seriously? Why?’
‘She didn’t like me kissing Lauren’s neck,’ Chris explained with an air of innocence and shrugged his shoulders. Lauren clenched her fists. He was doing this on purpose!
‘Seriously?’ Tim repeated his question, suddenly sounding very interested and, tilting his head, looking at Lauren. ‘I should have been on time after all.’
‘Don’t pay any attention to that idiot! He’s just kidding around!’ Infuriated, she pushed Chris out of the kitchen and turned back to Tim. Smoothing back her hair over her shoulders, she smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, he . . .’
‘It’s all right. I have friends, too, who . . . enjoy being idiots from time to time.’ A little unsure, Tim stared at the dark-haired man with the tattooed arms.
‘Good to know.’
‘But that thing about the kissing and the neck – I’m still interested in that.’
Lauren blushed.
‘Trust me, Tim, it’s a lot less spectacular than he made it sound.’
He nodded. They stood, facing one another in silence, and Lauren wished he’d come closer again, but he was keeping a polite distance.
‘We should . . .’ She motioned outside, pushing away from the kitchen island.
‘ . . . go and look after your guests,’ he completed her sentence. As she walked past him, she brushed against his arm, and a pleasant chill trickled through her body.
He placed a hand on her waist, light as a feather, and together they walked out into the
