Playing to Win

and the way it hiked up on her legs whenever she raised her arms over her head and swiveled around in a fast circle. She got his blood pumping, and when the next songslowed things down, he couldn’t resist sliding his arm around her and drawing her close.
    She narrowed her gaze at him and gave him a wary look, but he figured she must like dancing because she didn’t walk away. Instead, she flung an arm around his neck and slid close, but still kept her distance. It made him want to grab her and feel her body touching his.
    “You are dangerous, Peaches.”
    “We’re just dancing here, Cole. Don’t read anything into it.”
    “Not reading anything. This is just business.”
    “Of course it is.”
    They were both lying. She shifted her hips, her body inches from his crotch.
    Tempting. Oh so tempting. And his dick was getting hard.
    Savannah was a smart woman. She had to notice, so he put his hands on her hips and swung her out, this time making sure when he pulled her back, he tugged her close.
    She immediately pulled away, creating that inch or so of space between them.
    It didn’t help, because she knew how to move, and when she turned her back to him and swayed her hips to the music, he broke into a sweat.
    She might not be grinding against him, but he still felt her.
    Christ. Maybe she was deliberately torturing him, or maybe this was her way of telling all his friends to fuck off by the way she danced with him. Either way, he was hard as steel and his balls were throbbing.
    If they were alone he’d know exactly what to do. He’d wrap his arm around her waist and pull her against him, then slide his hands up to her sweet, full breasts, cup them until her nipples hardened, pull the top of her dress down, then turn her around so he could taste her sweet mouth. When he had his fill of kissing her, he’d move down and suck on her nipples until she moaned. He’d stripher down and lay her on his bed so he could lick her pussy and make her come. And then—
    Yeah. The direction of his thoughts wasn’t helping his erection. Fortunately, the song ended and another one started up.
    “Mind if I take over?”
    One of his club friends—Sheila—stepped in front of Savannah.
    Savannah half turned and met Cole’s gaze for a fraction of a second before she turned to Sheila and smiled. “He’s all yours. I need a breather anyway.”
    “Hey, wait,” Cole said. But Savannah had already disappeared into the crowd.
    So maybe the signals he’d gotten had been all in his head, because she’d sure walked away easily enough.
    SAVANNAH WATCHED THE WOMEN SQUEAL WITH JOY AS Cole was swallowed up by sequins, spandex, miles of legs, and a lot of hair.
    She could tell from the look on his face when she’d walked away that he’d been confused, then angry. With her. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong. She’d told him from the outset that she wanted to observe and nothing more, but he’d acted affronted when she’d wandered off to sit and watch instead of interacting with him.
    It wasn’t her fault she didn’t want to act like his date. She wasn’t his date.
    He’d wanted to dance. She’d danced. And maybe the dance might have gotten a little hot—maybe she’d been more than affected by being so close to him, but she’d kept her distance.
    And okay, that whole distance thing had been difficult, especially when he’d tugged her against him, and she’d felt how hard he was—everywhere. It had been tempting to stay there, to run her hands over his broad shoulders, to test his abs and see if they were as real as the photos she’d seen.
    But she’d been good. She’d walked away. And when another woman had wanted to cut in, it had been fine with her. She wasn’t the least bit interested in Cole Riley. That other girl could have him.
    So could those other six women with skinny bodies and big boobs. And from the way they were all playing grab-ass on the dance floor, they certainly all wanted him. He hadn’t even bothered to look back at her. For all he knew, she could have left by now.
    Not that she was jealous. She was here to watch his behavior—to do her job.
    Yeah, you did a fine job ogling his erection on the dance floor, Savannah.
    Ignoring her thoughts, she watched Cole in the middle of the half-dozen-girl sandwich. Really, were some of them even old enough to be in this club? Cole was…hmm…close to thirty? If that brassy redhead was twenty-one, then Savannah was a Yankee. And even if the girl