"Rogan Duran." Rogan shook his hand and studied the man.
"Glad you could make it," Lake said.
"Um." He turned his attention back to Lake. "Yeah, me too. It's nice to meet everyone. And the birthday boy seems to be having fun."
She laughed, a full rich and throaty sound. Simon put his arm around her waist and narrowed his gaze on Rogan. Rogan only shook his head. Though the redhead was undeniably sexy, Rogan was more into subtle beauty. This woman was full of life and energy. Not a bad thing, but he found the anxiety flutter inside him when he was around her. Where as Cora... He looked over his shoulder to see some young man talking to her and a tight smile on her face. Cora was peaceful. "If you'll excuse me."
He walked back to his table and wondered who the young man was and why Cora was tense, as if ready to spring out of the chair.
Cora saw Rogan coming from across the room and couldn't hold in the sigh of relief. Chris wasn't threatening in any way, but she couldn't be comfortable around him.
"So?" Chris asked her. "Will you? I know you're not seeing anyone and-"
Rogan walked directly to her, and sat in the chair against the wall that was right against hers. "Sorry I was so long, babe." He set the water bottle in front of her and offered his hand to Chris. "Rogan Duran."
Chris looked at the hand, then up to Rogan and stood without a word. He slammed the chair under the table and stormed off towards the back. Rogan watched him go. Cora saw Lake watching them and noticed that Monte followed Chris.
She released the breath she'd been holding.
"He bother you a lot?" Rogan opened her water bottle and then his own.
His brow was furrowed and he finally looked from where Chris disappeared to her. His expression didn't lighten. "Does he?"
She shook her head. "No. He watches me a lot, but he's never asked me out. I don't like to hurt people's feelings, but didn't see a way out of that one. And he just ditched his date earlier. Saw them get into it when I went to the back for something. Anyway, I was asked out, I declined." She patted his hand. "Thanks for coming over."
"You're welcome." He tilted his head. He frowned again at his water bottle and opened his mouth as if to say something.
A shrill whistle split the air. "Time to cut the cake!" Monte held a lighter. Cora stood and Rogan followed her, his hand at the small of her back. She shivered and wondered if he felt it. The man was...something. He made her feel strangely safe and yet not. She had no real idea what the hell to think. She knew next to nothing about him. One thing she did know, she was glad he'd interrupted Chris's demand for a date. It hadn't been a simple request. He'd demanded they start seeing each other.
She shivered again, and this time, it had nothing to do with the warm hand resting almost passively, guiding her.
They watched as Kyle cut part of the cake and passed pieces around. She finally shooed him out of the way, cut the rest of the cake and finished serving the chocolate confection. Rogan stood beside her, holding the plates as she set large wedges of chocolate cake on them. When everyone else had some, she cut both of them a piece. Rogan grabbed them both cups of coffee and they stood at the long coffee bar.
"So you're a chocolate girl?" he asked. "Dark or milk?"
"Is this twenty questions?"
He grinned as he tried the cake. "Why not?"
She nodded. "Why not. Okay. Sure. Dark. Milk's okay on occasion, but I have a weakness for fudge and for truffles. Not cheap ones either, unfortunately."
"A chocolate snob. How sad." He shook his head.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
Men. "Do you like chocolate? Vanilla?"
He thought about it, the corners of his eyes crinkling. She wondered how he got the scar through his eyebrow. "Depends. Ice cream, I like vanilla. Cake, chocolate. Nothing beats the perfect chocolate cake." Then he picked up his mug of coffee. "With the perfect cup of coffee."
Laughter danced in his eyes.
"Nothing?" Did she just ask that?
A chuckle rumbled up from his chest. "Oh, there's a couple of things that beat the perfect chocolate cake and coffee."
His grin was too sexy for her peace of mind. The dark growth along his jaw and upper lip made her want to run her hands over his cheeks for some absurd reason.
Maybe Lake was right and she just needed to get laid.
"I'd love to know what you're thinking," he said, leaning closer and offering her a bite of cake.
She took it and licked the icing off his fork. "Too bad."
His eyes dropped to her mouth. "Will I ever find out?"
An arm slung around her shoulders and she jumped. Kyle leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Bess, birthday, sweets. The very bess."
She looked into Kyle's glazed eyes. Hanson was beside him. "I'm taking him home." He nodded to her. "Thanks for all the help here." Hanson glanced from her to Rogan. "You need a ride back to the apartment? We can wait. I'll drop you off."
"No, I've got my bicycle."
"You need a car. Cycles are fine, but late at night, they're just not smart."
"He's vury, right. Hanson's right ahlot," Kyle confided, swaying slightly. "You know what? I am drunk!"
Cora laughed. "Yeah, I caught that I think." Looking at Hanson, she shook her head. "I'll be fine."
Holding onto Kyle he narrowed his dark gaze on her. "You call when you get home so I know you got there safely."
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're as bad as Kyle. Go home. I'll be fine."
Again he glanced from her to Rogan then back to her. "I mean it, you call."
"Yes, yes, fine."
Hanson nodded once more. Thanked Rogan and then led Kyle out the door.
Rogan watched them go. "How long have they been together?"
She thought for a minute, counted the years. "Almost four years I think...three? No it's going on four." Then she shrugged. "A while."
He motioned to the coffee shop. "We need to help clean up?"
Monte, walking by with a tray answered. "No you do not. You're guests. Get out of here. Go dancing. Go stargazing. Go to the river."
Cora gave Monte a pointed look. What was with everyone trying to set her up? Yet worried about who she was with?
"You sure, Monte? It won't take long?" People were shuffling out, thanking her, thanking Monte.
He waved them on. "Go."
Rogan tugged on her hand. "Come on."
At the door she grabbed her minipack, which she'd dropped her keys, wallet and phone in earlier. Outside the temps had dropped. "I should go over to the shop and grab my jacket." She shivered and started across the street, pulling her keys out.
The shop was dark and she flipped on the lights to dim. From the hook behind the counter, she grabbed her jacket and turned to Rogan. Her bike was in the back hallway with the storage boxes. He looked back there. "You know, he's right. It's not real safe to ride after dark."
She raised a brow. "Really?"
"Really." He looked back at her, walked until he was standing closer to her. "I could give you a ride."
She glanced from him to his Harley out front of her store. "Yours is a bike too."
"It's not just a bike. It's a Harley." His hand reached out and held hers. "Plus, mine goes faster," he said, his voice low.
Cora looked at their joined hands. His long, dark fingers were nicked with small scars. Strong hands, she thought. The black shirt he had on under his jacket was pulled tight across his chest. His neck was corded. He'd fought in Afghanistan. Maybe that was the darkness that seemed to surround him.
Yet, when those who hurt were near her, she found herself wanting to ease them. She was no empath. But she still wanted to help.
She followed the corded muscles of his neck up to cup his nape. "You're very tall," she whispered.
His lips smiled. "Yeah. I'm going to make sure you get home okay," he answered, his voice just as low.
Then he was leaning down. His other hand moved to the base of her back, pulling her closer. She tilted her head back. "This is probably a bad idea." She licked her lips.
"Probably," he agreed, watching her mouth before raising his eyes to hers. Then kissed her.
His lips were warm, firm and as possessive as the man himself.
He licked her lips, his stubble rubbing against her chin, scratchy and strangely arousing.
Cora moved her hand to cradle his cheek. She opened her mouth, welcoming him. His tongue grazed over her lips before delving inside. The man could kiss.
He angled his head to the side, and she moved to allow him better access. The kiss was hot and awakened long buried, usually battery operated desires. She breathed deep and smelled his cologne. A deep spice scent, which reminded her of shadowed lands and ancient secrets. She stood on her toes and shivered as his hand opened, his fingers curling back towards his palm across the small of her back. His other hand rested against her jaw, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck. Rogan grazed her nape and she shivered again. The kiss shifted and deepened.
His hunger poured off him, swirled around them, then dove into her as his tongue tasted and promised.
She moaned.
He abruptly pulled away, breathing harder than he had been.
The loss of his mouth on hers, the quickness of his withdrawal left her unbalanced. She stumbled and he caught her.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean. That is..."
"No problem." God, talk about mortified. Maybe she didn't kiss well. Or maybe he just wasn't interested. Though he'd sure as hell seemed interested. She tried to pull her hand from his.
He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "I need to think," he whispered.
She smiled and looked up at him. "Don't worry about it."
His eyes narrowed on hers, shadows moving in their depths. She wondered what haunted him.
"I'm seeing you home."
Chapter Nine.
Rogan watched the way her eyes seemed to darken. This close he could see they were really nothing like Ginger's-thank goodness.
Cora's were that same pale shade of blue as Ginger's. There was no disputing that fact. But Cora's were a purer blue. Where both had the same paleness, Ginger had tiny green striations in her irises, and Cora's pale depths held dark midnight blue lines. They were twinkling in the low light as if she couldn't figure out if she wanted to smile or frown.
Confusion.
He knew the feeling well. It had been his locked hell for the better part of three years.
She still smelled good enough to lick-a vanilla cone. He now knew she tasted as good. Rogan wanted another taste, but something warned him this was a bit too soon. Maybe he was rushing things.
He sure as hell hadn't come here to get involved. He had nothing left to get involved with, even if he had wanted to.
Which he didn't.
No matter how interesting, how fresh. "You're very pretty," he said softly.
The raise of fair brows told him she thought he must be joking.
"Seriously," he said. He grazed a finger down her nose. "You've got freckles."
Now she frowned. "So?"
He grinned and looked into those incredible eyes. "So, I've always had a soft spot for freckles."
She didn't say anything. He inhaled, caught the faint scent of vanilla, and stepped back again from her. Time to put a bit of distance from her. "You know you want a ride."
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. A blush stole up her cheeks.
He chuckled. "On the Harley."