guy with his head shaved, walked toward her. Strutted was more like it. He was attractive, and he knew it, but it was the twinkle in his eyes that made her smile back. That, and his dark goatee. It suited him perfectly.
“I’m Mason,” he said in a gravelly voice. He sounded like a rock star after a concert.
“Hi, I’m Daisy.”
“You are the most beautiful thing to walk through those doors tonight,” he told her, his eyes still on her face. “How about I buy you a drink?”
She started to nod. She liked this man, liked the fun dancing in his gaze and the way he was focused on her face and not her boobs. She wouldn’t mind having a drink with him until Dack showed up. Then she remembered the blond guy, who was going to be coming back, expecting to have a drink with her.
She opened her mouth. Mason lifted his hand and laid one forefinger over her lips. It was warm and calloused against her skin. She stared at him over it, shocked. He was certainly the bossy type. Was he a dom?
“You like margaritas?” he asked. “It’s margarita night.”
Daisy nodded slowly. He took his finger from her lips. “Good. Have a seat over there, and I’ll bring you one.”
Daisy looked in the direction he pointed. The lights in the room were mainly discreet wall mounts over the bar and colored lights pulsing around the DJ. The back of the room was wreathed in shadows, but Daisy could make out a sitting area with big leather sofas and chairs.
“Here.” Looking back at Mason, she found him holding a key out to her. It was black.
A petite, curvy blonde in a tight blue leather dress was walking toward them. She paused, looking from Daisy to Mason to his key. Her full mouth sliding into a disappointed pout, she turned and walked away.
The key thing again. Daisy took it with a shrug, since he didn’t seem to want her to talk, and he winked at her. “Go on. I’ll be right over.”
Daisy put Mason’s key in her small purse and skirted the dance floor, looking for Dack. He wasn’t on the dance floor or among the people seated at the small tables beside it.
She wandered back, passing two more of the condom stands. She sank onto one end of the sofa facing the back wall, since a couple was making out on the other. She looked at them and then away. She’d seen worse than that at college parties. She tugged at her short skirt, which had ridden up nearly to her crotch when she sat down. Not much give to leather, and although she was wearing undies—sort of, under the skirt—she really didn’t want to flash everyone.
The pretty blonde sat in one of the chairs, swinging one of her crossed legs. She looked bored. She gave Daisy a halfhearted smile, and Daisy returned it. She wondered if the other woman would answer some questions, like what the deal was with the keys.
But she heard a deep laugh behind her, and her heart thumped with excitement. Dack. She turned, her leather skirt swishing on the leather sofa. He was walking toward her through the tables and swirling lights on the dance floor, listening to a younger man in jeans and a leather jacket, who was gesturing and speaking quickly, telling some story.
Dack wore leathers too. Daisy looked him over, excitement flooding her. He looked dangerous in a way that thrilled her clear to her core. Tight pants hugged his muscular thighs and outlined his impressive package in a way baggy shorts and T-shirts never did. He wore a leather vest, this one hugging his impressive torso and highlighting his huge shoulders and arms. His long hair was tied back.
Daisy waited for Dack to see her, acknowledge her presence. But he was wearing another pair of those damn sunglasses, and she couldn’t see his eyes in the dim light. Still talking, he stopped beside her sofa, and then turned and perched his ass on the broad arm of the sofa, right at her elbow.
He was ignoring her. Hurt and pissed, she scowled at his long back. She wanted to elbow him right in the kidneys. Catching the blonde’s
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