Broken Heart 10 Some Lycan Hot by Michele Bardsley

her entered the club.
     He'd wait a while.
     Then he'd follow her.
     And she would learn that she belonged only to him.
     
    "EXCUSE ME, SIR."
     Dane Sinclair barely caught the soft-spoken words. Pounding music reverberated through the Paradise Club, pulsing in time with multi-colored lights, and with the throbbing of his headache. He turned and leaned on the bar, coming face-to-glasses with a woman. "What can I get you, sweetheart?"
     Her lips curved upward, exhibiting a nice set of white teeth. For a smile, it wasn't bad...except for the trembling lower lip.
     Dane noticed the fine cut of her clothes, the proper chignon balanced on her head, and the delicate, precise movements as she folded her hands on the slick black counter. An expensive floral scent infiltrated the usual bar smells of sweat, cigarette smoke, and beer.
     What the hell was a society type like her doing in the Paradise Club?
     Dane looked around, knowing from experience that they traveled in packs of four or more. His ex-wife had never gone anywhere without her entourage and she wouldn't have put a pedicured foot in this place. His gaze returned to the woman. She looked young, but he knew she had to be at least twenty-one. His brother, Charlie, owned the club and checked IDs at the door. The father of two teenaged daughters, Charlie took a dim view of underage drinking.
     Dane took a dim view of bluebloods trying to slum it.
     "Lady, I got other customers. You want a drink or not?"
     "Can I have um...oh...champagne?"
     "You don't sound too sure."
     She bit her lower lip. "I'm afraid I don't know too much about drinking."
     Yeah, he just bet she didn't know much about real booze. Her idea of an alcoholic beverage was probably a hoity-toity drink like a Mint Julep or a Cosmopolitan. Needed a little education, did she? Dane grinned. "Forget champagne. You need a Slippery Nipple."
     Her mouth rounded into a perfect O. Her gaze dropped to her shirt then she looked from side to side. She leaned across the counter. "Does it involve disrobing?"
     Dane choked back a laugh. Would she take off her shirt if he said yes? He shook his head. "No. It's made in a shot glass." He picked one up from under the bar and showed it to her. "I use Bailey's Irish Cream and Butterscotch Schnapps, but you can make it with Sambuca and grenadine, too."
     Her shoulders drooped in apparent relief. "Oh. Is it a good drink?"
     He kept a straight face as he answered in a low voice, "I love a good Slippery Nipple."
     Despite the dim lighting in the club, Dane swore he saw a blush stain her cheeks. "Is there something else you'd recommend?"
     "Sex On The Beach? Or maybe I can slide you a Between The Sheets." He snapped his fingers. "How about an Orgasm?"
     She peered at him. "These are sexual innuendoes, correct? Are we flirting?"
     Dane's smile faded. Her blunt query surprised him. He'd been trying to rattle her, not flirt with her. "I'm just making conversation."
     "I should have read a book about alcoholic beverages instead of looking up Kama Sutra positions on the Internet."
     "What?"
     "The Kama Sutra," she shouted. "I was particularly interested in the Snake Trap position. It really is quite interesting how the participants arrange themselves. See, the hands are placed—"
     "Save me the details. I'm an old-fashioned guy."
     Dane watched the shaggy young man on the woman's right touch her shoulder. "Honey, I'll put my hands wherever you want."
     Instead of punching the guy's lights out, she squinted at him. "Are you familiar with the Kama Sutra?"
     "No, but I'm looking for an instructor. Interested?"
     "You interested in keeping your hand attached to your arm?" asked Dane. He looked pointedly at the guy's fingers clutching the woman's green blouse.