Best Of My Love (Home to Green Valley Book 4) (7 page)

“What’s wrong?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence. Some girls would have played games just then, acting as though they didn’t know the effect they had. It wasn’t a game with her. She was genuinely confused. It was touching.

And made him harder than an iron spike.

“Why don’t we sit down?” he asked, feeling a little woozy.
Probably all the blood flow to my groin
, he thought, clenching his jaw. “I need a breather. It’s been a long time since I’ve danced.” She looked amiable enough, so he took her hand to lead her back to their booth.

He ordered a water for Erica, hoping that the drink and the dancing would help her sober up. No way she was in any condition to screw around with—despite the fact she’d been able to feel embarrassment earlier, she was definitely past tipsy. Conversation might sober her up, too.

“What do you plan to do with your business degree?” Riley asked, leaning in to be heard.

She pulled away with a look of surprise. “I didn’t expect you to want to talk about that tonight,” she admitted.

“Why not? We’re here together. How often do we get to find out more about each other?”

She shrugged, though still didn’t look convinced. “Honestly? Gosh, this is going to sound so dorky, but I want to get into the wine making business.” She winced, like she expected him to laugh at her.

“What’s dorky about that? I think that’s a great idea!”

“You do?”

“Hello, look around you. You’re in wine country. Why wouldn’t you want to make wine? It’s natural.”

She beamed. “I know it takes skill, obviously. Once I get my business degree, I want to go to school to learn about wine.”

“That’s great. Really. You’re setting yourself up for success by planning in advance. I couldn’t be more impressed.” He wasn’t buttering her up, either. She had goals. How many people thought they could get into the wine business without a shred of experience? He’d already heard of a few who went bust in the short time he’d been in America. It was easy to look in from the outside and think a certain job or vocation was easy, until you stepped in and got your hands dirty and saw that it was no joke. Riley knew that all too well from running the pub. Not that they were hurting—far from it. But even with the experience they’d had with his parents’ restaurant in Ireland,
The Crazy Yankee
, the months he and his brothers had spent running
The Stylish Irish
on their own had taught them that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared.

He told her that, too. “When we were growing up, it wasn’t uncommon to find youngsters in the pub. Not drinking, mind you, but just sitting around with their dads or their brothers, watching a game. Teenagers, you know. And it always looked like so much fun. The barkeep would joke with the customers, share a drink with them, share stories. They were everybody’s favorite person, and for their part, they always knew the names and families of their best customers. It was like a big family. I fell in love with that more romantic image when I was a boy, you might say. And that only grew when my parents opened up their place back in Ireland,
The Crazy Yankee
.”

“Are you disillusioned now?” she asked.

“Not hardly. You’ve seen the way we all are at the restaurant. It’s not so different from what I described, is it?”

“No, now that you mention it. You have just as much fun.”

“Exactly. But there’s a fuck ton of hard work behind that, yeah? It just so happens none of us is a stranger to hard work. We were raised on it. Others might not have been so lucky. They might have looked at all the long hours and the fighting over budgets and hiring workers and negotiating with suppliers and given up already. You’re doing the smart thing, learning the business beforehand. When things get tough, you’ll be armed with knowledge and you won’t give up.”

“To not giving up.” Erica raised her glass of water, and he happily touch his own glass to it. Their eyes met as they drank, and he found himself smiling. She was the sort of person he could open up to. What other woman would he have talked to like that? Normally, women were fun. He enjoyed them. But Lucy was the only one he’d ever seriously talked to…until meeting Erica.

“You told me something you weren’t comfortable sharing. So I’ll tell you something to make it fair. How’s that sound?”

“Ooh! Ooh! Yes!” She clapped her hands, making him laugh.

“Okay. You can’t laugh. I swear, I’ll never tell you anything again.”

“Oh, this sounds very serious.” Erica’s face went stony.

He chuckled. Then confided, “I do know how to dance.”

She waited with an obvious look of suspense. “And?”

“My mam made us all take lessons, growing up. Now you know my deepest secret,” he said, shrugging.

Her eyes lit up. “Come on,” she said, tugging his hand. “Dance with me again. Show me what you’ve got.”

“Why don’t you dance for me, instead?” He leaned back against the cushions of the booth, arms stretched across the top. “I want to watch you dance.”

She blushed. “I don’t know…”

“What, all talk and no action? Come on. Where’s that swagger I saw at the pub?”

Her eyes narrowed and her chin tiled up, a sure indication she was about to accept the challenge. His pulse picked up speed, wondering what she had in store for him.

Chapter Eight

He wants a show, does he? Well. I’ll give him a show, all right. He’ll learn not to challenge me.

Erica walked back out to the floor, where her friends danced together, drinks in their hands. Marissa and Trinity, from school, and her roommate, Jenna. The three of them were having a great time, pouncing on her when she approached.

“How’s it going with him?” Jenna asked, leaning in. She knew who he was, having let him in the night before. She also knew from the number of times Erica had obsessed over him since the day they met.

“Not sure,” Erica answered. “Good, I think, but he’s a little standoffish. He wants me to dance for him.”

Jenna pulled away, eyes lighting up. “That doesn’t sound standoffish to me, girl. Get to it.” She gave Erica a thumbs up. Erica felt a little weak-kneed, but didn’t want to punk out when she had Riley on the hook.

The song changed, and she recognized it immediately. She couldn’t believe her luck. It was too perfect. Prince’s
Darling Nikki.
The slow, driving beat filled the club, and Erica began to move in time.

“Give me your drinks!” she said to her friends, who obediently held them out to her. One by one, she drained the glasses. In the back of her mind, she knew it wasn’t a good idea, mixing alcohol, but she needed some liquid courage if she was going to do this. Sure enough, the warmth of the spirits settled in her chest and stomach and below, filling her with a bold sense of resolve. She threw a casual glance back over her shoulder and saw Riley watching.
Good. Let him watch
. She told herself she never had to see any of the people there ever again if she didn’t want to, then got started.

She slowly swiveled her hips in a figure-8, then snapped at the waist and bent down to the floor, flipping her hair upside down as she did. Starting at her ankles, she moved her hands slowly up the outsides of her legs, then snapped her head back once she reached her hips.

She ran one hand up her side and over her neck, pulling her hair to the side. The other she ran across my stomach, then wrapped it around her hip. She spun around to face Riley with her eyes closed, then dragged the hand in her hair down the other side of her face, catching her fingers on her slightly-opened mouth as she traveled down. She grazed her breasts before crossing it over to the other hip, hugging herself. Her eyes opened to find Riley still watching. He sat back, his arms stretched out across the top of the bench, facing her. His eyes stared into hers.

She started moving her hips in slow circles to the beat, turning as she did. She rolled her head on her shoulders as if she were in ecstasy.

Once again her back was turned to him. She started bumping and grinding as if she were in front of a pole. They may as well have been the only two people in the room as Erica put a special little show on for him. Just for him.

Marissa and Trinity stared at her, shocked by the total one-eighty in her demeanor. Jenna pulled them aside.

Meanwhile, Erica’s legs were spread shoulder-width. She moved her hips back and forth as she made her way down to the floor, then grabbed her ankles and straightened her legs out.
He wants a peek at my ass? Here it is
, she thought. She glanced at him through open legs to confirm she still had his attention, and she did.
Thank God.
If he hadn’t been watching anymore, she thought she might have dug a hole in the middle of the floor and thrown herself into it. Instead, she slowly ran her hands up the backs of her legs as she straightened up.

Erica turned back around to face him, and by now his mouth was curled up at the corner into a sexy smirk that sent arrows of heat straight between her legs. She alternated between popping her hips from one side to the other and undulating like a wave from her breasts to her pelvis and back again, thrusting her hips toward him, biting her lower lip, never breaking eye contact. In her head, she said all the things she wanted to say to him, pictured everything she’d ever thought about him while touching herself. She knew it came through in the way she was moving, and she wanted him to see it in her eyes.

She was starting to attract attention from other guys—it was pretty clear. They were watching, edging closer to her. They weren’t dancing, but she got the feeling they all wanted the chance to break in on her. The song was going to end, and she suddenly wondered what the heck she was going to do. Erica looked around to find the girls had blended back into the crowd, nowhere to be seen.

She threw a desperate look back at the booth—only to find a complete stranger eating the face off another complete stranger. That was
not
what she expected to see, to put it mildly. Her eyes searched the room frantically.
Where the hell did Riley go?
Her heart sank, caught between feeling too exposed and despairing over her dance going to waste. If he was willing to walk away like that, she couldn’t have been too effective.

The next song started, some sexy Latin song Erica didn’t know the name of but definitely recognized.
Oh, balls.
She felt like a minnow about to be descended upon by sharks as two random guys started to approach, one from either side.

Suddenly, she felt a presence close behind her. A hand closed over her right hand and carried it to her opposite hip. She panicked, until she caught a glimpse of a crisp white shirt sleeve and a whiff of familiar cologne mixed with the smell of whiskey, one which she’d come to associate with the O’Neill boys.
Thank God
, she thought, relaxing into him and letting him lead her.

They started swaying back and forth, their hips moving in time, his hand guiding her movement. She was so glad she knew how to follow. And once the relief of being saved from Lord only knew what on the dance floor passed, Erica became all too aware of the sheer force of the man pressed against her—but she trusted him, with all her heart.

And so her body followed the lines of his body as they moved. Her backside was pressed against his crotch as their hips undulated. His left hand traveled down her left arm, and once it found her hand, his fingers entwined with hers. He brought the hand up to his neck, then stroked his way down the length her arm and torso—a total “Dirty Dancing” move that made her catch her breath and turned her knees to jelly.

She could have stayed like that forever, but Riley suddenly spun her out, then pulled her back in, this time facing him. They started dancing, her hand on his shoulder, his hand on the middle of her back.

He moved like liquid sex, fluidly, effortlessly, and he made her look good just by being such a strong lead. Still, she struggled to keep up with him. She paid attention to the pressure he put on her back, letting him guide her.

He pressed close to her—whether it was closer than he needed to be, she didn’t know, but she was okay with it. She called on her own long-ago dance training, back in high school, and moved her hips and butt as smoothly and seductively as she could, feeling his hand glide over the skin of her back. It dropped down to her waist and dug in. Erica’s breath caught in her throat, while warmth spread between her legs.

He let go of her back and reached up to take her hand from his shoulder. He stepped back a pace or two and kept dancing, his waist twisting, his hips swaying while the top part of his body stayed perfectly still. She followed suit, the way she felt about him flowing through her movements. It may as well have been just the two of them all over again, the way it had felt in the pub—only while dancing they dared each other to take action.

He spun her once, twice, then grabbed her free wrist and pinned it behind her, bending her backward while leaning his own body over hers. Slowly, they both straightened up, and his mouth brushed over her cleavage, then moved over her throat before finally hovering over her mouth. For a split second they froze like that, then he spun her away again.

He pulled her back to him, this time with the other arm pinned behind her, causing her to suck breath in through her teeth.
Hiss
. The whole world at that moment consisted of him holding on to her wrist with one hand, while the other held her hip as they rocked from side to side. She shivered at the turn of events. Her face was against the opening of the top buttons on his shirt. She could see perspiration standing out on his skin, and fought hard against the urge to lick it off.