Ryan Hunter

someone else in my garden?”
    Tony sucked in an uneasy breath through his teeth. “No.”
    Yeah, that was to be foreseen. “Where is she?”
    “Somewhere back there.” He nodded over his shoulder toward the entrance door. “A friend held her up. Look, I won’t be out with Cloey long. Just a minute. Don’t tell Liza when you see her, okay?”
    Cloey impatiently blew a strand of her blonde hair out of her eyes, but I made a point of not letting go of Mitchell’s arm just yet. “You will have to tell her at some point.”
    “I know.” He grimaced. “I will.”
    “All right. Get along with you,” I growled. “I have you covered for tonight. But make sure to come clean with her soon. I hate lying.”
    “Thanks, man.” We bumped fists before the two of them slipped out into the garden through the back door.
    I wondered how he’d gotten Cloey to agree to hiding their relationship for now. She wasn’t usually one to keep a low profile and it must annoy the hell out of her. But then, our garden was a perfectly romantic place for some kissing under the moonlight, and she would probably get her money’s worth with Mitchell tonight.
    A little frustrated at how Tony messed with Liza’s feelings, I slumped against the wall inside the arch, dragged a hand over my face, and took a long sip from my beer. Gaze skating over the crowd, I wondered where she was. There were close to three hundred people in this house. Looking for her might turn out to be a problem. But then there was no need to. The little hairs at the back of my neck bristled when she emerged from the mass, glancing around like a shy little doe.
    Her super short, black pants took a millisecond to make my eyes go wide and my mouth water. A moment after her gaze met mine, I turned toward her fully and only leaned with one shoulder against the wall. She fumbled with the hem of her gray tank top as she glanced to one side and back at me. From years of charming girls, I knew what I was doing. Since she had my direct attention now, she had no other choice than come over and say hello. I took another swig as I watched my plan work out.
    Near enough to grant me a close-up of the pendant on her necklace dipping into the valley between her breasts, she stopped and lifted a greeting hand instead of speaking.
    I cocked my head and gave her the lightest smile I could manage. “Hi.”
    “Yo u have a nice place. So full of—”
    Testosterone ?
    “—people.”
    “Yeah. Thanks.” Hm, was that the right thing to say? I pushed away from the wall and leaned in a little closer, because I hated to shout over the music. Okay, the music wasn’t as loud back here, so it might not only have been that, but I really liked to breathe in the sweet scent of her shampoo. Her hair tickled my cheek when I lowered my head even more to speak into her ear. “It was about time that Mitchell brought you here. He kept you away from this place long enough.”
    Her nose brushed the underside of my jaw, giving me a really good feeling in my stomach. “Do you know where he is?”
    Sorry, baby, but I can’t tell you that. Looking down, I only saw her perfect, apple-shaped boobs and a waist that begged to be hugged against mine. The bottle of beer in my hand gave me a chance to hold onto something as I fought against the urge to grab what I already had determined was mine. “Nope,” I answered her question then washed away the bitter aftertaste of the lie with a swig of Corona.
    Liza had her own bottle of beer and drank when I did, but she looked like it was the nastiest stuff one could have given her. I wondered if she’d gotten it from Tony, but I was pretty sure he made a point at keeping this girl sober.
    Our fridge was stocked with things that tasted better than Corona, and I didn’t like the thought of her getting tipsy at my party, anyway. At least no one had given her a glass of the strawberry wine cooler. That stuff would have knocked her out of her shoes.
    With her wrist in my hand, I pulled her away from the hall and into the kitchen to trade her beer for a soda . Touching her actually felt so good, that I couldn’t bring myself to let her go immediately, so I put my bottle on the counter and worked one-handed to pop a can of Sprite for her. Replacing the bottle with the can, I made an effort to gently close her fingers around it.
    “You shouldn’t drink beer,” I told her and hoped I didn’t sound like her dad or something . “Especially not in this