the refreshing summer night air and swiped a shaky hand over my damp forehead. I fumbled for my keys as I hurried across the darkening parking lot, vaguely aware of footsteps following me. My heart raced, and I braced my keys between my fingers in a form of defense.
When I rounded the corner of my car, I risked a glance in the direction of my follower.
“Emme?” Merek called out, but I ignored him. I tried to press the unlock button, but my thumb hit the lock instead and the door gave no response. Flicking to the correct button, the locks clicked upward as Merek wrapped a hand around my upper arm. My fingers clasped the door handle, but his free hand reached around me and held the door shut.
“Emme.” He breathed into my hair. “Why are you always running?” His voice teased against my neck. He gently tugged me against him, and I briefly reveled in the feel of him behind me before I spun on him.
“What difference does it make?” I snapped. His dark eyes sparkled in the dim parking lot light. His grin widened and I wanted to slap him. To see with my own eyes that he was interested in someone younger, sucker-punched my gut. I didn’t need a visual. My imagination was wild enough.
“I wanted to call,” he offered, and I groaned. Did men still say this excuse, too? There could be no reason not to call in the modern age. I used that line a hundred times with my daughters. You have a cell phone, so you can call me anytime, from anywhere . It wasn’t acceptable.
“But I had to work,” he said. Exhaling hard, I read his black t-shirt: Security. My eyes flicked up to his. His lips tipped upward as the truth registered with me, and he twisted that seductive mouth to hold in a laugh.
“You work here?” I choked.
“Every Thursday night. Ladies Night,” he answered.
“How convenient for you,” I bit out, not appreciating his teasing tone. His face grew serious.
“Why would you say that?” His brows arched. His eyes opened wide.
“I saw you with that girl,” I stated. “Very pretty. Very young.”
“That girl?” His forehead wrinkled. “She’s…wait a minute, I saw you with that man on the dance floor.”
“You can’t be serious?” I laughed without humor. “He was old.”
“Oh, Henry’s harmless.” His twisting lips struggled against another laugh. I didn’t let his familiarity with said Henry deter me.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” My voice lowered as did my eyes and he loosened his grasp enough I pulled my arm free.
“She’s too young to be here. I was escorting her out.” It seemed plausible based on the average age of the clientele. The Square was clearly for the over thirty crowd, if not even older. But someone twenty-something might find that age interesting, even financially beneficial.
“Oh my God, was she a prostitute?” Merek’s fists clenched at his side in response as he hissed: “She better not be.” The determination in his tone frightened me. His anger instant. His eyes flitted toward the exit door, out of sight from my car.
“I guess you should get back to work,” I said, as the silence fell between us.
“Why are you leaving?”
“This isn’t for me.” I flipped my hand in the direction of the club. Without warning, his arms enveloped me and I fumbled against his chest. My hands awkwardly reached for his waist as his broad biceps crushed me. His nose found my neck and he placed a tender kiss under my ear.
“Is this your car?” His voice rolled seductively across my skin. “You drive a mini-van?”
I was ready to defend the mini-van. The convenience of this vehicle was purposeful. I could cart carloads of kids and haul large items. I didn’t have time to answer when the hand on my back opened the side door.
“Get in,” he said, twisting me. He wasn’t pushing, but he was definitely guiding me as I climbed into the second row. I sat with a thud as he climbed in, then slid the door hard enough it slammed.
“What are you…” I
When I rounded the corner of my car, I risked a glance in the direction of my follower.
“Emme?” Merek called out, but I ignored him. I tried to press the unlock button, but my thumb hit the lock instead and the door gave no response. Flicking to the correct button, the locks clicked upward as Merek wrapped a hand around my upper arm. My fingers clasped the door handle, but his free hand reached around me and held the door shut.
“Emme.” He breathed into my hair. “Why are you always running?” His voice teased against my neck. He gently tugged me against him, and I briefly reveled in the feel of him behind me before I spun on him.
“What difference does it make?” I snapped. His dark eyes sparkled in the dim parking lot light. His grin widened and I wanted to slap him. To see with my own eyes that he was interested in someone younger, sucker-punched my gut. I didn’t need a visual. My imagination was wild enough.
“I wanted to call,” he offered, and I groaned. Did men still say this excuse, too? There could be no reason not to call in the modern age. I used that line a hundred times with my daughters. You have a cell phone, so you can call me anytime, from anywhere . It wasn’t acceptable.
“But I had to work,” he said. Exhaling hard, I read his black t-shirt: Security. My eyes flicked up to his. His lips tipped upward as the truth registered with me, and he twisted that seductive mouth to hold in a laugh.
“You work here?” I choked.
“Every Thursday night. Ladies Night,” he answered.
“How convenient for you,” I bit out, not appreciating his teasing tone. His face grew serious.
“Why would you say that?” His brows arched. His eyes opened wide.
“I saw you with that girl,” I stated. “Very pretty. Very young.”
“That girl?” His forehead wrinkled. “She’s…wait a minute, I saw you with that man on the dance floor.”
“You can’t be serious?” I laughed without humor. “He was old.”
“Oh, Henry’s harmless.” His twisting lips struggled against another laugh. I didn’t let his familiarity with said Henry deter me.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” My voice lowered as did my eyes and he loosened his grasp enough I pulled my arm free.
“She’s too young to be here. I was escorting her out.” It seemed plausible based on the average age of the clientele. The Square was clearly for the over thirty crowd, if not even older. But someone twenty-something might find that age interesting, even financially beneficial.
“Oh my God, was she a prostitute?” Merek’s fists clenched at his side in response as he hissed: “She better not be.” The determination in his tone frightened me. His anger instant. His eyes flitted toward the exit door, out of sight from my car.
“I guess you should get back to work,” I said, as the silence fell between us.
“Why are you leaving?”
“This isn’t for me.” I flipped my hand in the direction of the club. Without warning, his arms enveloped me and I fumbled against his chest. My hands awkwardly reached for his waist as his broad biceps crushed me. His nose found my neck and he placed a tender kiss under my ear.
“Is this your car?” His voice rolled seductively across my skin. “You drive a mini-van?”
I was ready to defend the mini-van. The convenience of this vehicle was purposeful. I could cart carloads of kids and haul large items. I didn’t have time to answer when the hand on my back opened the side door.
“Get in,” he said, twisting me. He wasn’t pushing, but he was definitely guiding me as I climbed into the second row. I sat with a thud as he climbed in, then slid the door hard enough it slammed.
“What are you…” I
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