Rebel with a Cause by Natalie Anderson Page B

breaking the short silence.
    But the newcomer wasn’t looking at her. He was staring—hard—at Rosanna. And she was positively glaring back. They were squaring off like ancient enemies.
    â€˜Aren’t you too old to still be dressing like a skate board punk?’ Rosanna was all snark.
    â€˜Aren’t you too old to still have an eating disorder?’ Vance answered ten degrees too coolly.
    Sophy’s jaw hit the floor. Rosanna was sleek, utterly sleek and stylish. But she wasn’t sick. At least, Sophy didn’t think so. And this guy so wasn’t her type—she liked them with as much style as her own. Sophisticated style, not street wear. Although Vance had his strengths, to be sure.
    â€˜Do you two know each other already?’ Sophy asked,despite the obviousness of the answer. It wasn’t normal to be trading insults so soon in an acquaintance.
    Rosanna didn’t even glance at her. ‘We met a few years ago.’
    â€˜Come and dance, Sophy.’ Lorenzo grabbed her hand in a death grip, took the glass from her other and ditched it on the bar, marching her away despite her protests.
    â€˜Hey, I’d hardly had any of that.’
    â€˜I’ll get you another later.’
    She pulled to slow him, twisted back to catch another glimpse of Rosanna. ‘Do you think they’re okay? They look like they might kill each other.’
    â€˜I think they’ll be okay. She’s all grown-up.’
    Sophy really wasn’t so sure. She tugged her arm again. ‘She’s not as tough as she makes out.’
    Lorenzo laughed, the glint in his eyes too dangerous for comfort. ‘She’ll be fine. Forget about it.’
    Well, she wasn’t going to do that. ‘She’s my friend.’
    â€˜Just give them five minutes.’ He looked at her, the darkness in him piercing now. ‘Or is it that you don’t want to dance with me?’
    She went cool, despite the thudding in her heart. ‘I like dancing.’
    â€˜Right.’
    The music was loud—if they were to hear each other they’d have to lean close. Sophy opted for silence. But he was too close anyway, moving closer. And she couldn’t cope with the way his big body moved—with surprising grace—or the way he absorbed the beat so naturally.
    She felt increasingly stilted, her pulse skipping—too fast for the rhythm of the music. She couldn’t relax—tried not to look at him at all. Until he grasped her by the upper arms and pulled her to him.
    She gasped as their bodies collided.
    â€˜You’re mad with me for leaving like that,’ he roughly muttered in her ear.
    â€˜No, I’m not.’ She shook head and glared at him. ‘It was good you did, actually.’
    â€˜Oh?’ His eyes glittered in the lights. It looked as if his temper was off the leash now.
    â€˜Saved us from any awkwardness,’ she snapped.
    â€˜And you’re not awkward now?’
    â€˜No.’ She tossed her head, refusing to admit she was basically dying of discomfort. ‘But my shoes are killing me so I’ve had enough dancing, thanks. You don’t need me for anything tonight anyway, right? For the Whistle, I mean.’
    â€˜No.’ His reply was frigid. Hard eyes raked her. ‘Not at all.’ He pushed her away and stalked through the crowd.
    Sophy felt her own anger grow. What did he want—for her to fall at his feet again? To act the desperate female?
    Never.
    She pushed her way back to the bar where Rosanna was standing alone—a fresh cocktail in hand. She handed it out and Sophy gladly took a deep sip and handed it back.
    â€˜Why don’t you just do him and be done with it?’ Rosanna asked as if it were the most logical thing in the world. ‘Honestly, the tension between you two is electric.’
    Sophy didn’t inform her that she already had done him. And that instead of making the tension go away it had