Stone In Love

Chapter 2

Living a freelancer's life taught me to prep in record time. Twenty minutes after my chat with Monica, my cheeks and eyes were suitably enhanced, and I had arranged my honey blonde hair into a side French braid. Simple yet classy. Just the way I liked it.

Choosing the appropriate gear, however, took a little longer. I knew Psychotic wasn't picky about dress code if one made an effort, and since I preferred men to notice my face before my boobs, I opted for a white Gucci tee that left my cleavage out of it and paired it with my least worn-out jeans.

My phone read eleven thirty-five when I left my apartment building, which meant the clubs would just be heating up, while the temp outside was steadily dropping. Fortunately, I had never been bothered by the cold, and I didn't have to wait long before a cab appeared to take me to another night of greatness. Of course, I fully expected shit to hit the fan, but those were usually the nights I remembered most.

There was a significant line outside the club when I arrived. No surprise there, and I took my place at the back of the queue, feeling awkward about being without an escort. I called Monica to let her know where I was, and she apologized for not having any clout at Psychotic, which left me cursing my decision not to wear a shamelessly revealing top. It might have given me a chance with the bouncer.

As I waited, a black Porsche 911 pulled up to the valet stand and three guys climbed out, each one well-dressed and well-built. The kind of guys you'd expect to step out of a Porsche. The driver was a definite cutie, with dark, wavy hair that contrasted nicely against his fair skin, and almond-shaped eyes the color of black coffee. Definitely my idea of a hottie, and I gave myself license to gawk at him from my anonymous position in line. What I didn't expect was to have Mr. 911 single me out and shoot me a smile.

I also didn't expect him to wave his buddies into the club and walk toward me. On his way over, I continued my assessment. The guy was a good amount taller than me, but that wasn't difficult since I had only made it to five foot six, and his dark jeans and gray tee hugged his muscular body like a diving suit. I didn't mind that he was making the same assessment of me. Maybe I wouldn't have to wait that long, after all.

"Hi, I'm Colin." As he introduced himself, I caught a subtle twitch of his nose. Was he offended by my white musk body spray? It was the most subtle of all my fragrances.

"Reese," I offered back.

"Are you here alone, Reese?"

"I'm meeting a couple of girlfriends. They're already inside." I swallowed past the dryness in my throat. Although I couldn't explain why my tongue suddenly felt like sandpaper. Was it the fact that his eyes had not stopped dissecting me, or was I suspicious about why he had targeted me among the plethora of women in the queue? Was he trying to improve his odds of taking someone home with him? I was no stranger to that tactic, having used it myself on several occasions. Did I give off that vibe? Ugh.

"I can get you in without the wait. I know the doorman. Do you like to dance?" Colin's voice sounded like the open throttle of a motorcycle, and I imagined what his throttle might feel like against my gears. Geez. Would I ever stop thinking with my vagina?

"Yeah, I love to dance."

"Great. How about I pay your cover and buy your first drink in exchange for a dance?"

"Actually, I don't drink. Alcohol, that is. But I'd love to dance with you."

"Deal." He offered a crooked smile that came across a bit too calculating, but I'd never been intimidated by bad boys, and I accepted his extended arm, allowing him to walk me to the front of the line. "I'm not much of a drinker myself," he said. "What's your pleasure?"