Kirk finished his beer then visited the restroom. When he
returned, a man was talking to Cassie. The stranger stood
next to her bar stool, one arm propped up on the counter,
leaning over her. He was well-groomed, probably in his
thirties, and the way he was blocking Cassie off from the
rest of the crowd indicated he was definitely interested
in her.
Kirk stopped dead in his tracks. A strange, barbed
feeling twisted in his gut as he stared at Cassie, trying
to gauge her reaction to the dude. She sat straight, legs
crossed, looking up at the guy hitting on her, and the
small grin on her face said she wasn’t exactly
discouraging him. Why the hell did she have to smile at
him like that?
As he watched, Cassie straightened her Giants T-shirt,
and the movement drew his attention to her breasts. He’d
never studied her breasts before, but now he couldn’t
help noticing they were round and firm and generous. He
found himself noticing other things about her, like the
soft fullness of her lower lip, the thick sweep of hair
brushing her eyes, the curve of her upper thighs encased
in denim.
The prickling in his gut intensified and rippled through
his limbs. His fingers spasmed, and the muscles in his
back contracted. Heat sparked and bloomed in him and
spread to his groin in a hot, inexorable tide.
Shit, what was going on with him? He was staring at
Cassie—leering at her—like a man who’d just gotten out of
prison. Why hadn’t he ever noticed how sexy she was? Not
glaringly sexy, not in a pouty, mincing, cleavage-
thrusting way, but in a subtle, fresh, natural way, a way
that snuck up and hit him on the head like a sledge
hammer.
He rubbed the back of his neck, confused and dismayed by
these novel sensations. How could he be turned on by
Cassie now, after all these years? She was his best
friend, she trusted him, relied on him. She’d never shown
any amorous interest in him, not once in all the years
they’d known each other. If she knew what was going
through his head, if she knew he was sorely tempted to
touch her, kiss her, run his hands all over her, she’d be
horrified. Or frightened.
He couldn’t risk it. He’d already decided that he valued
friendship over sex. Lust was transitory, and Cassie was
too important to him to risk scaring her off. He had to
forget how much he wanted to hold her.
The guy chatting her up let out a braying laugh, at the
same time slipping an arm around her waist.
That does it! Kirk strode up to Cassie’s bar stool,
jostling the man’s arm so it dropped to his side.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked Cassie, acting like the
other man didn’t exist.
“Hey, dude, what’s your problem?”
Kirk kept his focus on Cassie. She glanced between the
two of them, bewildered. “Uh, sure.” As she stood, she
looked at the other guy. “Sorry, we have to go.”
“But I don’t have your number.”
Kirk’s lips tightened. “It’s 1-800-in-your-dreams,” he
snapped before he took Cassie by the arm and ushered her
out the bar.