“Now, sugar, I—” Nik stopped. Stopped and stared. How could he not? She wore her long hair swept up off her shoulders, curly tendrils teasingly touching her shoulders and neck. The dress, an expensive number he remembered rolling his eyes at when informed of the price, slid over her curves like someone designed it specifically for her delicious frame. Yup. Definitely the best fifteen hundred dollars he’d ever spent.
She walked over to him. Already a good five-ten, she still had the nerve to wear four-inch heels. He liked that. Her cool fingers brushed against his jaw. Gently, she closed his mouth. “Catching flies, sugar?”
They stared at each other, everyone silent until Reena cleared her throat. “Um…why don’t we wait out in the car for you.”
Reena grabbed Ban’s arm, yanking him out of the room. A firm hand in his back by Kisa, propelled Aleksei out the door as well.
Angie smiled. “Get that look off your face, hillbilly.”
“What look?”
“The one that says I’m suddenly Ned Beatty in Deliverance.” She took a step back. “And the food at this thing better be good. I’m starving. The cheese and crackers wore off.”
She effortlessly turned on those impossible heels and Nik almost dropped to his knees. The dress, completely backless, revealed her tattoo. A Celtic-Mayan design radiating power and protection magick that clearly showed a cat. A big one. His claws tearing across her flesh. The artist even added some red to show blood. One of the nicest pieces Nik had seen in a very long time, but on her…
Add in the way her hips moved, and he was seconds from coming in his pants like a thirteen-year-old.
“Well, come on, hillbilly. I don’t have all goddamn night.”
Of course, she really had to stop calling him hillbilly.
Angie leaned against the bar. Her eyes on her lemon martini, but her ears completely tuned to the older couple next to her. In their mid-fifties, they’d been arguing since they came up to the bar.
She felt bad for the man. The woman wasn’t giving him an inch. In a way, she reminded Angie of Miki. Blunt, brutal, and to the point.
“Go away,” the woman hissed again.
“Why? You know we look wonderful together.”
“We do not…” The woman took a breath. She towered over the man, her black hair streaked with grey, white, and red swept up off her shoulders and held by a platinum hair clip. “Stay away from me or I’ll make you regret that no one’s killed you yet.”
She turned to walk away and he slapped her on the ass. The tigress—and really what else could you call this particular female?—stopped, growled, then stomped off.
“She hates when I do that.”
Angie didn’t answer him, since she really wasn’t supposed to be listening.
“I know you’re listening.”
Damn. She glanced at him. “Sorry.”
He shook his head and moved closer to her. “Not a problem. We’re quite a fascinatin’ pair.”
Angie realized if she took off her shoes, they’d be the same height. Compared to all the men in the room, he was damn-near tiny.
He motioned to the bartender for another scotch. “You ain’t from around here.”
“And what gave that away?”
“That accent of yours.”
She blinked. Being the darkest one in the room, she simply assumed that would be his problem.
“Texas.”
“Good. I’d hate to think anybody brought a Yankee to my party.” Angie laughed and he returned her smile. “Damn, girl. That is the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen…next to hers, of course.”
She glanced at the woman he seemed completely lost to. “She doesn’t seem too interested.”
“She’s a stubborn woman. Won’t just admit she loves me. Always has.”
“I have a friend like that.”
“So what’s your name, darlin’?”
“Angelina.”
“That’s a gorgeous name. I’m Boris.”
“Boris, huh? That’s a very Russian name.” They shook hands. “Have you even been to Russia?”
“What for? It gets really cold there. Besides, I’m an American, darlin’. Born and bred. Just like my daddy and my granddaddy before him. Everything I need is right here in the U-S-of-A.”
He stood right next to her now, but not close enough to have her backing away. Good. He understood personal space. That seemed to be a problem the hillbilly hadn’t quite grasped yet.
“So, this is your party?”
“Yup. It’s the only way I can get money out of these rich snots.”
“Money for what?”
“Poor families from where I used to live. Up in the holler, not far from here.”
Dear God, I’m near a “holler”.
“You haven’t always had money?”
“Oh, heck no. Lived up in the holler until I turned seventeen. Then my daddy made me join the army.”
Based on his age now that meant only one thing. “Vietnam?”
“Yup. Worst nightmare of my life, too. But it made me a man. When I got back, I put myself through school and got into computers real early on.”
“And now you’re here.”
“Now I’m here.”
“I like that story, Boris. That’s a good story.”
He took a sip of his scotch. “So what exactly is a full-human doing here anyhow?”
“Got kidnapped by hillbillies.”
“Did ya now?”
“Yup. It’s a long sordid tale I’m not sure I’m in the mood to discuss right now.”
“You don’t need me to rescue you or nothing, do ya?”
Angie smiled and shook her head. “No. I can handle them fine.”
“Which ones are they?”
Angie glanced over her shoulder and nodded in Nik’s direction. He stood with his two brothers, a throng of gorgeous women surrounding them. Not that she blamed the females. All three men were gorgeous, but Nik outshone them all. He must have personal contacts with all the great designers. She didn’t know Armani, Gucci, and all the rest made clothes big enough to fit a man his size. And fit him they did. He didn’t wear a tux like some of the other males. Instead he wore black shoes, black slacks, and a black silk Tee. He threw a black leather mid-length jacket on over that and, if she were the drooling kind…
“Them.”
“Ah. I see.” Boris’s face suddenly went stern. “They are bein’ nice to you?”
“They bring me elk and deer.”
His big grin returned. He had to be the happiest man she’d ever met. “The woo-in’! They must like you.”
“So it would seem.”
“Not that I blame ’em. You’re a charmin’ girl.”
“As are you.”
“Yes, I am a charming girl.”
Angie snorted and went back to her martini. She liked this hick. He made her laugh.
“So, you interested in any of ’em?” Boris asked lightly.
“No.”
“Why not? Is it ’cause you think they’re hillbillies?”
“They are hillbillies. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why are you women so difficult?”
“We’re not difficult. We just don’t take shit anymore.”
Boris looked at the current object of his lust. “She sure don’t. That’s one of the things I love about her. She’d rip your throat out as soon as look at ya.”
“That’s lovely, Boris. You should have that printed on a greeting card.”
She felt Nik behind her even before she saw his big hands brace against the bar on either side of her body. Why the hell did he insist on doing that?
“Back off, country.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not touchin’ ya.”
“No. But you’re invading my personal space.”
“Of course I am. It’s as big as Montana, so I really don’t have room to go anywhere else.”