sexy. Strong. “I think you’re making me a little crazy.”
“Maybe it’s the champagne,” he said.
She shook her head. “The champagne may account for some of the courage, but it’s the man who’s making me—”
“Yes?”
Wet. “Itchy.”
“Maybe I can help you scratch the itch.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. “I really wish you would.”
His smile was practically edible, and as he leaned in, she knew she wanted to taste it. Wanted to consume it, and when his lips brushed hers, she slid hungrily into the kiss, lips only at first, then leaning closer, her arm hooking around his neck as she lost herself in the wonder that was this man. This heat.
The rough sound of a clearing throat caught their attention, and Ty pulled away, breaking the kiss slowly and then, Claire was glad to see, looking at their interloper with an expression that suggested the interruption better be worth it.
The culprit was a girl, probably in her early twenties, wearing a tight Decadent T-shirt, and from the way she was grinning, she felt not the slightest bit of remorse for interrupting. As if Claire was just another girl, and this was just another night with clubster Ty Coleman.
Well, that’s probably true. Is that a problem?
He leaned in and kissed her hard enough to make her melt, then met and held her eyes, his hot enough to melt steel.
Nope, she thought. No problem at all.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sliding off the stool, his hand sliding along her thigh as he moved, and sending a shiver down her spine and shooting a promise between her legs. “I need to go run over a few closing details with Fred. Wait for me?”
She nodded, feeling a little dizzy, a lot girlie, and remarkably like she had the night that Tommy Blake—her teenage crush—had kissed her under the bleachers for the very first time.
Lost in her thoughts, she pulled a cherry out of one of the bar dishes and started to suck on it, her gaze sweeping casually over the room. She saw Joe and Bonita heading for the door, and quickly turned away, not wanting to meet their eyes. When she did, she found Alyssa, hidden with Chris in a throng that was moving for the far door. Alyssa whispered something to Chris, who shot Claire a friendly wave as Alyssa headed in her direction.
“I was going to fire off a text message,” Alyssa said, “but since you’re alone now…” She trailed off, then bit her lower lip. “Are you alone now?”
“Only temporarily,” Claire said, feeling slightly giddy.
“He’s gorgeous,” Alyssa said, taking Ty’s seat. “See? What did I tell you about sticking around? What’s he like? What’s his name?”
“He’s great,” Claire said. “So far, anyway. And his name’s Ty.” She paused a bit, to see if Alyssa would react. “Ty Coleman.”
“Great name,” her friend said, and Claire wasn’t sure if she should be impressed with herself for having more pop culture knowledge than Alyssa, or ashamed.
“Does he work here?” She nodded to something over Claire’s shoulder, and when she turned, she saw Ty talking with the tall man who’d counted down to the New Year. He looked over while he was speaking, caught her eye and smiled.
“Bang and pop,” Alyssa said.
“What?”
“The way you two are looking at each other. It’s not just lust. It’s a connection.”
Claire laughed, brushing aside her friend’s words. “You only want me to be a couple now that you are. I just met the man.”
Alyssa shrugged. “Believe what you want,” she said in a voice that suggested she knew what she was talking about and Claire was hopelessly ignorant. “But you definitely owe me for convincing you to stay. I was coming over to tell you that you better not be planning on driving tonight, but since it looks like you’ve got an escort home, I’m not going to worry about it. But,” she added, as she leaned in to give Claire a hug, “don’t you dare drive.”
“I’ll consider it a stellar excuse to go home with the man. If he wants me to,” she added, the possibility that he wouldn’t disturbing her more than it probably should.
“Trust me,” Alyssa said, with a decidedly mischievous grin, “I’m certain he does.” She wiggled her fingers and backed away before Claire could get another word out, and it was only when she felt the soft press of Ty’s hand on her shoulder that she realized why Alyssa had departed so abruptly.
“Sorry about that. Technically, I’m on the clock.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I—”
“No, no,” he said, taking her hand before she could do something stupid like hop off the stool and—what? Because she wasn’t leaving. Not without this man. Not if she could help it. “One of the benefits of being the man in charge—I get to play by my own rules. But one of my rules is to work when work needs to be done.”
“And what work needed to be done at twelve-thirty on New Year’s Day?”
“More than you might think,” he said, sliding back on the bar stool and leaning back, looking for all the world as if he owned the place. Actually, maybe he did own the place. “For one thing, people drink more tonight.”
“So they do,” she said, lifting her glass. She rarely drank champagne—primarily because it went to her head and made her sleep like the dead—but she’d been indulging wildly this evening. And now she was enjoying the effects—and the courage—that came with the nice little buzz she had going on.
“Exactly,” he said, with a chuckle. “So we have to make sure that we’ve made arrangements with local taxi services, shuttles, whatever it takes. I’ve even been known to put people up at a hotel if I was afraid they’d get into their car. It’s an expense, but it’s worth it, and it’s paid off in goodwill, particularly among the college crowd.
“And, then, of course, there’s the problem of the till,” he continued. “Not that an increased cash drawer is a problem, but I don’t want the manager going alone to make the night deposit. Then you have the logistical issues of how to coordinate with your neighbors tomorrow morning, because inevitably someone has knocked over a corporate sign or left cigarette butts on the sidewalk. We’re located in a mixed-use area, so the club is next to restaurants and retail, and they’ll both be open tomorrow morning and wanting their grounds to be pristine. And then you have to deal with—”
He cut himself off with a quick shake of his head. “I’m getting a bit carried away.”
“A little. Maybe. But it’s interesting. I had no idea so much went into closing a club for the night. To be honest, my experience with the nightclub environment was more or less limited to a night at the symphony with my parents. At least until college, but even then I tended to—”
“Study more than you went out?” he said.
“That obvious?”
“I’m
