Resisting the Musician (a Head Over Heels Novel) (Entangled Indulgence) by Ally Blake Page A

Marilyn said.”
    “What’s that?” Lori leaned into her sister, unable to remember the last time they’d stood like this, arm in arm against the world.
    “She said, ‘A career is wonderful but you can’t curl up with it on a cold night’.”
    And then Callie was gone, floating across the room to find Jake, leaving Lori alone to face Dash who was now heading her way.
    Without preamble, he closed in, a proprietary hand on her waist as he whispered against her ear, “Want to get out of here?”
    Her breath trembled out of her lungs. “It’s my party.”
    “It’s Callie and Jake’s party,” he murmured as he moved around behind her, his hand sliding around her back to land on the opposite hip. “You were in charge of catering.”
    Coughing out a laugh, she glanced once again at Jake sitting sprawled out in the chair in the corner, Callie on his lap, the rest of the guests in a circle around them.
    Jake saw them watching, lifted his glass in question. Lori and Dash raised imaginary glasses in perfect tandem. Jake’s mouth twitched at one corner before Callie grabbed his attention and the crowd surged to hide them.
    “Do you think they’d even notice if I left?” Lori asked, sounding more despondent than she’d meant.
    “Only when it’s time to clean up.”
    She laughed, despite herself. “Have you not heard of sugar-coating?”
    “Never had the knack.”
    Lori turned, putting Callie and Jake and the whole exhausting night behind her. And looking into Dash’s deep brown eyes asked, “Too straight?”
    His mouth hooked into the delicious smile that turned her knees to butter. That mouth had kissed her. That mouth she’d struggled to stop thinking about since.
    “Would you rather I was less? Straight?”
    “Don’t go changing on my account.”
    His gaze sank to her mouth, and she couldn’t deny she loved it when that happened. No evasion, no games, only cocksure intent.
    “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his voice barely a murmur. “We need to talk. How about some fresh air?”
    He took her hand and, as usual, drew her on as if he simply expected her to follow. Which, as she only ever seemed to do with him, she did.
    When they spilled into the hall outside her apartment, she leant against the elegant matte-black wallpaper, tilting her face to find him leaning a big shoulder against the wall. The arms crossed over his big chest close enough that if she breathed in deep he’d brush her shoulder. So she barely breathed at all.
    “Well, that was hell on earth,” he said.
    “Thanks so much,” Lori scoffed.
    “I meant trying to make anyone in the room believe you and I had never met.”
    Oh.
    “Jake might play the clown, but he’s a sharp guy.”
    “You think he thinks something’s going on?”
    “Depends what you mean by going on.”
    Stumped as to how to answer that without giving away more than she dared admit to herself, Lori licked her lips.
    And then faster than a man of his size ought to be able, Dash moved, trapping her with hands on either side of her head. Her fingernails scraped the wallpaper at her sides as she pressed back for dear life.
    “Tell me, Lorelei, slayer of wayward seamen, what would you suggest is going on between you and me?”
    Thoughts of Callie’s wishful future barbeques collided with frustrating guitar lessons. And the coil of discomfort in her core when she thought of this man’s best friend taking her sister away twisted into her fierce attraction to the man filling up her vision.
    “While you think on that,” he said, a thumb sliding down the side of her neck, “I’m going to kiss you. And this time you’re not going to run away.”
    “I didn’t run,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “I had plans.”
    “What you had was second thoughts. Got them still?”
    Second. And third. And many many more. Thoughts of hard muscle, and hot skin, and kisses that turned her inside out. Thoughts of naked bodies and soft sheets. Of sweet, slow-building