she quite liked that giant block of wood between them. She’d thought herself well over that teen crush, but all it had taken was that one look from him and she was all saucy inside. But there was a compelling glint in his eyes, and somehow she didn’t manage to refuse.
As he shepherded her through the crowd, she steeled herself against the light brush of his hand on her back. She was not feeling remotely feminine next to his tall, muscled frame. She was not enjoying the bulldozer effect and seeing everyone clear out of his path and him guiding her through as if she were some princess to be protected. Surely she couldn’t be that pathetic?
The balcony was darker and quieter. Of course he’d know where to find the most intimate place in an overcrowded venue. She pressed her back against the cold wall. She preferred to be able to keep an eye on the punters, and it gave her unreliable muscles some support. But in a second she realised it was a bad idea because Brad now towered in front of her. Yeah, he was all she could see and there was no way of getting around him easily.
The loud rhythm of the music was nothing on the frantic beat of her pulse in her ears. But he must be used to it—women blushing and going breathless in his company. She hoped he didn’t think it was anything out of the ordinary.
‘Will you excuse me a sec?’ she said briskly. ‘I just need to check a couple of messages.’
‘Sure.’
She slipped her hand into her pocket, needing to fill in a few of her fifteen minutes and catch her breath. Besides, the imp in her wanted to know Lauren’s reaction to the photo she’d sent. But there were no messages at all—which was odd given Lauren’s tech-addiction. She frowned at the phone.
‘Did you need to make a call?’ he asked quietly.
‘Do you mind? It won’t take a second.’ And it would fill in a few more of the fifteen minutes.
‘Go for it.’ Brad lifted his glass and sipped.
Mya turned slightly towards the wall and made the call.
‘What did you think?’ she quietly asked as soon as Lauren answered.
‘Think of what?’
‘The pic,’ Mya mumbled into the phone, turning further away so Lauren’s big, bad brother couldn’t hear. ‘I sent it a couple of hours ago.’
‘What picture?’
‘The pic.’ Mya’s heart drummed faster. She glanced at Brad. Standing straight in front of her—a little too close. His eyes flicked up from her body to her face. She didn’t want him listening, but now she’d looked at him, she couldn’t look away. Not when she’d seen that look in his eyes. It wasn’t just maple syrup now. It was alight with something else.
‘I haven’t received any pic. What was it of?’ Lauren laughed.
‘But I sent it,’ Mya said in confusion. She’d heard that whooshing sound when the message had gone. ‘You must have got it.’
‘Nup, nada.’
Mya’s blood pounded round her body. Sweltering, she tried to think. Because if that message hadn’t gone to Lauren, then to whom had it gone?
She stared up at the guy standing closer than he ought and gradually became aware of a change in him. His eyes weren’t just alive with the maple-syrup effect; no, now they were lit with unholy amusement. Why—?
Impossible.
The heat of anticipation within Mya transformed to horror in less than a heartbeat. And to make it worse, Brad suddenly smiled, hell, his shoulders actually shook—was the guy laughing at her?
‘I definitely haven’t got it,’ Lauren warbled on. ‘But I’m glad you rang because I haven’t seen you in …’
Mya zoned out from Lauren, remembering the rush in the change room, the way she’d been giggling and not concentrating, the way her fingers had slipped over the screen …
No. Please no.
Lauren’s voice and the noise from the bar all but disappeared, as if she’d dived into a swimming pool and could hear only muted, warped sound. Her stunned brain slowly cranked through the facts while the rest of her remained locked in the heat of his gaze.
Her contacts list automatically defaulted to alphabetical order. She’d never deleted all the contacts already on it either—and it was an old phone of Lauren’s. No doubt her brother’s number had been programmed in a long, long time ago. And B came before L. So first in the phone list?
Davenport. Brad Davenport.
CHAPTER TWO
MYA ignored the fact that Lauren was still babbling in her ear and jabbed the phone, shutting it down. She shoved it back in her pocket and tossed her head to get her fringe out of her eyes. ‘It seems my phone’s died,’ she said with exaggerated effervescence. ‘Can I borrow yours?’
Brad’s silent chuckle became a quick, audible burst before he summoned the control to answer. ‘Really?’
She nodded vehemently, pretending she couldn’t feel the rhythmic vibrating against her thigh.
‘But your phone is ringing.’
Yeah, there was no pretending she couldn’t hear the shrill squawks over the beat of the bar music.
‘What is that?’
‘It’s a recording of dolphins talking to each other,’ she answered brightly before hitting him with a bald-faced lie. ‘But while my ringer is working, the person on the other end can’t hear me.’
‘Maybe you hit mute.’
‘Look, can I use it?’ She dropped all pretence at perky and spoke flatly. Oh, she wanted to curl into a ball and roll behind a rock. Now. This was why he was here tonight. What had he thought? Surely he hadn’t thought the picture was meant for him and he’d come to her? As if she’d called him?
Mya bit back hysterical laughter. Teen Mya would have loved Brad Davenport to hunt her down for a hookup. Adult Mya had learned to avoid sharks. And of all the people she had to mistakenly send a picture to, it had to be her best friend’s brother? Her best friend’s completely gorgeous, speed-through-a-million-sexual-partners brother?
Brad held her gaze captive with his warm, amused one. ‘But my phone cost a lot of money and I don’t like the way you’re holding that glass of water. I don’t think my phone can survive the depths.’
Was the guy a mind-reader? Of course she wanted to drown the thing—she’d drown Brad himself if she could. Or better still, herself.
How could she have made such a mistake? This ranked as the most mortifying moment of her life. Why had she gone with the scarlet bikini with the see-through sides?
‘How come you have my number anyway?’ he asked lazily, confirming the worst.
‘This was an old phone of Lauren’s.’
