If she thought anyone would have heard her over the thrumming bass, she would have groaned. As it was, she could only glare at the gloriously-maned man in front of her as he tugged her through the throbbing lights and gyrating crowd. Honestly, it made her stomach a little queasy, catching glimpses of moves that she wouldn't have even dreamed of, drunk or sober.
They reached the bar and Felicity hastily claimed a bar stool, feeling extremely self-conscious. As soon as they had gotten to the house Shawn shared with Juliet, Shawn had started pawing through the bag she'd bribed Gus to go and pick up from Lassie's, a bribe that was going to cost her three throw pillows and a silk comforter. When Shawn had looked up from his inspection of her clothes, he'd tsked at her, shaking his head woefully.
"You can't go dancing in any of these clothes, Flick. Don't you have anything you can party in?"
The stare she'd leveled at him would have been enough to have chilled wine, but he seemed impervious, tilting his head at her curiously. Noting that her intimidation needed a little work, Felicity had sighed and snatched the bag from him, calling over her shoulder that she would be out his bedroom in a few minutes while he decided just where he wanted to go. If she had learned anything about the overgrown man-child, it was that it was best to let him have his way for a time. If she was going to be spending any lengthy amount of time with him, then it was something she would need to get used to.
Just as she'd had to with Lassiter. Except…there was no mistaking him for anything other than a man.
She'd scowled so fiercely at that traitorous thought that she'd heard her jaw crack. Her mood souring by the minute, Felicity had then picked up her cell phone and made a discreet call to Juliet, who hadn't yet made it home. After a quick conversation, they'd hung up and the brunette had made her way into the master bathroom, a small make-up bag in hand. Rummaging through the various tubes of loaned cosmetics, she had crowed victoriously when her fingers curled around her objective. She'd tugged out a few more pieces, then proceeded to apply the necessary powders and paints.
The completed effect even took her aback a little. With a little smoky darkening around her lids and lashes, her eyes became luminous. Her cheeks bones were now charmingly defined, her lips touched with an elegant crimson. With her hair down and loosely curling, framing her features, the woman who had stared back at her appeared to be at once innocent and sophisticated. It had struck her as odd.
After Juliet had arrived with a black clothes bag slung over one arm and entered the room, she'd finished. Felicity had to admit, that she'd been pleased with the result and once she'd unzipped the bag, a smile had actually tugged at the corner of her lips.
The dress itself had cost her nearly every cent in her savings account, but when she'd seen it on a trip to Los Angeles last summer, she'd had to have it. That was probably because it reminded her so strongly of Ginger Roger's gorgeous gown from when she danced with Fred to Smoke Gets in Your Eyes. The fabric was a shimmering silk, and dyed a soft lilac, bringing out the bright grey of her eyes. It flowed over her in a straight A-line, snug enough to accentuate her figure, as if a pitcher had tipped to pour the material down her body. Thin straps curved over her shoulders to blend seamlessly with the fabric that fell away from her shoulder blades. The back was daringly low, but considering that her cleavage was relatively obscured, she supposed the boldness of the design thus became tempered.
She had stepped into a pair of borrowed heels, inspected herself in the mirror and had promptly walked out the door. Gus and Shawn's reaction when she'd stepped out of the bedroom had been worth the effort, providing a sorely needed boost to her ego. She felt classy, yet seductive.
At least, she had until they'd walked into this stupid club.
As soon as her feet had past the entrance, her shoulders had tensed, the confidence that had radiated from her demeanor vanishing like frost in the sun.
"Damn Shawn," she cursed under her breath, lifting her hand to signal the bartender, whose easy smile only served to irk her further.
He was an older guy, short and bald, with a blonde goatee and dark brown eyes.
"What can I get for ya?" he asked loudly and she leaned an elbow on the bar as Shawn leaned back on his elbows to watch the crowd.
They'd asked Juliet to go with them, but she'd pleaded out, since she had to be up earlier than normal, since she always had an extra-long shift on Saturdays. Shawn had been plainly disappointed, but she'd kissed his cheek and whispered something in his ear that had cheered him up immensely, enough that he'd grabbed both Gus and Felicity by the wrists and hauled them out the door.
"Whiskey and coke," she replied, grey eyes sliding away as he winked at her.
"Anything for a class act, doll."
Her opinion of the little man was less than favorable after that; she'd had enough of easy compliments and endearments from Shawn tonight. The entire ride to the club had been one accolade after the other, and while she had initially appreciated the attention, and also somewhat amused by his creativity, the praise had worn thin. Perhaps that was why she was so self-conscious now. Yes, she could blame him for that; it was easier than acknowledging the butterflies fluttering in her stomach at every glance in her direction.
Felicity glanced around as she waited for her drink, her gaze lingering on many of the women in the club. She certainly wasn't the prettiest woman here. Maybe the most conservatively dressed, she thought with a wry twist of her lips. Suddenly, a gentle touch was on her shoulder and she twisted around on the stool a little to tell the guy that she was less than interested when the words died in her throat.
Warm hazel irises were roaming across her features with a charming smile playing around his lips. Blonde hair hung in his eyes and he absently brushed them back, tilting his head. He wore loose fitting slacks and a creme button down dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose tanned, muscular forearms. The hand that had landed on her shoulder was large, the pads of his fingers calloused and a pleasant, tactile contrast to her own soft skin.
"E-Eddie!?" she peeped, eyes wide.
Eddie was the last person she had expected to see tonight.
"Hey, Felicity."
She was too stunned to speak, her lips parting and then closing again with a confused frown. Eddie's smile faded a little around the edges. He leaned closer to her to be heard over the music.
"I'm glad you remembered me," he said in a low voice close to her ear, making goose bumps prickle across her skin, right down to her curled toes.
The sensation snapped her out of her stupor.
"O-of course, Eddie, the play-dough guy," she replied with a nervous laugh, cupping her chin in her hand and throwing one leg over the other casually. At least, she hoped it looked casual.
That hope made her internally wince. Why the hell was she trying to flirt with this guy? Hadn't her experience with Lassiter taught her anything?
"Yeah, exactly!" Eddie returned her smile with a blinding grin of his own and any memories of Lassie were roughly shoved aside.
The transition of her attention eased when he was looking at her as if she were the only woman in the room. His eyes shamelessly drifted over her, drinking her in from the flow of her dress over her hips to the tightened clasp of it against her breasts as she sat on the stool to the exposed curve of her back. Her cheeks flushed at the undisguised appreciation in his look as he pulled his gaze back up to her face after a long, long moment.
"That's an amazing dress," he murmured, still close to her ear. "You must be beating them off with a stick."
Easy compliments had unexpectedly become easier to accept.
"Not really, but thank you," Felicity said shyly, feeling like a teen at prom.
Her face became even warmer as he moved his hand from her shoulder, his fingertips lightly sweeping against her neck, to lean a narrow hip against the bar, folding his arms across his broad chest. Self-assurance and sex appeal were rolling off him in waves, a heady, almost irresistible combination. Honestly, dressed like that and looking good enough to eat, she was surprised women hadn't already been flocking to him like moths to an electric light.
He glanced towards Shawn, who was still angling his gaze over the dance floor and nodded towards him.
"Well, if I were with you, I would be," he teased her and Felicity was certain that her poor heart couldn't take one more of those perfect smiles.
She felt something cold appear at her elbow and, once again aware of her surroundings, quickly turned around and took a deep, grateful gulp of her drink. The sweet burn steadied her nerves, a calming sensation she both appreciated and hated the alcohol for. At that moment, she became conscious of the thrumming music around her, the discordant chatter that was scattered intermittently just beneath the pulsing notes.
His breath was at her ear again, a gentle brushing of warmth that made her want to shiver.
"Would the lady like to dance?"
She started to say no. The word was on the very tip of her tongue. This was silly and unnecessary. Shawn had brought her here to unwind and maybe have a little fun, but she in no way wanted or expected a potentially romantic encounter.
What makes you think this is romantic, Sawyer? The question pierced the pleasant fog her mind had shrouded itself with like a horn blast. What even made it an encounter? The man had come to a club and asked a woman to dance, so how did that make it anything other than exactly what it looked like? Why did she want to make it into anything more?
Why did she hope for it to be something more?
Perhaps because, Lassiter hadn't made her feel like that. And she'd tried. God knows, she'd tried. Climbing into the man's bed and letting him have his way with little to no protest…
She squashed that memory before it could crystallize in her mind's eye. Which led her to wonder if her frustration with the blue-eyed detective was causing her to see things that weren't there, to want things that wouldn't normally have crossed her mind. Eddie was irrefutably good looking, but that spark of energy that swirled every time Lassiter touched her wasn't there. Eddie wasn't even her type, if she were going to be completely honest.
If you were totally honest, you've only met one man that would qualify.
She viciously snapped at her inner voice to stuff itself in a broom closet, preferably outside of her head.
All the same, she admitted to herself as her finger skimmed the rim of her glass in thought, that little voice was right. She might have gotten the distance she wanted from the hard-headed bastard, but she couldn't deny that he hadn't wandered far from her thoughts. Not even an eye-catching, younger man paying attention to her had managed that.
So when she looked up at him from her drink, the rejection slipping from her lips, imagine her surprise when her answer turned out to be just the opposite.
And all because she saw hauntingly familiar baby blues glaring at her from across the room.
Lassiter stood with a lean hip propped against a dark wall, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, the pose an almost perfect mirror of Eddie's at her side. Their gazes locked for the space of a heartbeat and Felicity felt a wall of anger slam into her. Her cheeks were hot again, but this time it had nothing to do with alcohol or sexual attraction.
The son of a bitch was spying on her.
And the urge to be plainly, deliciously spiteful was just too strong to resist.
So she fluidly rose to her feet and, staring up into Eddie's hazel eyes, slipped her hand into his boldly.
"I'd love to dance," she answered him finally, her crooked smile wicked.
Smirking at her confidently, he tugged on her hand with a gentle force and led her out into the crowd. She noticed him make a gesture towards the booth at the far end of the club and she watched the hulking DJ give him a thumbs up.
Eddie brought her to the very center of the floor, turning and pulling her body close to his. His chest brushed against hers as a new, different beat started to pound from the massive, surrounding speakers that were mounted on the walls. She couldn't quite understand the lyrics, so she assumed it must have been in another language, but it sounded like French. The tempo was quick, but steady and before she had time to rethink her hasty decision, he began to move, a hand possesively low on her back while the other grasped hers loosely.
When she had been much younger, her grandfather had indulged her and allowed her to attend dance classes. For several years, she'd learned the steps to the Charleston, the Foxtrot, Waltz, Tango, too many to count and all delightful to a young girl with few permitted outlets for creativity and expression. She'd adored her teacher and had actually excelled, her shy exterior falling away as soon as she laced the ties to her borrowed dancing shoes. But that had been years ago and she'd been forced to quit the classes before her thirteenth birthday on account of her family's less than ideal finanical situation. After that, her life had become farming and bootlegging, southern traditions that, while not the most proud professions, kept food on the table and blankets on the beds.
So to say that she was hesitant as Eddie began to lead her in the first tentative steps of a cha cha was a gross understatement. It was such a cliche, cheesy move on his part that she very nearly walked off, content to leave him and his flirtatious undertones alone on the dance floor.
But then she recalled that she had an unwelcomed audience and her desire to get under the detective's skin, by giving him a show to damn well remember, beat the living daylights out of her nervousness.
Felicity followed him, matching his movements and kicking up her heels as the beat thrummed through her body. Her hips swayed in time with the pulsing music. Seeing that she was easily keeping up, Eddie quickened his pace, people moving from around them to give them room. Her dress was a pool of lilac fluid around her legs as they moved, her body arching against his as she felt eyes on her. She knew that he was watching her in Eddie's arms and she could almost feel his wrath crawling up her spine.
Her partner spun her and she threw her head back, hair wildly flying as he moved around her before pulling her towards him once again sharply. Then he was spinning her in and out rapidly as they made a sweeping circuit as the crowd started to watch, their feet slipping between one another's. Her hand returned to his shoulder as he held her tightly against him in a lull, her body molded to his from chest to thigh.
Her eyes were hooded, lips parted in a sensuous expression as they spiraled, then stopped as the singer's voice hit a crescendo, Eddie dipping her low as her leg drew up to his hip, her foot sliding along his calf in a erotic display of the feminine power that was now coursing through her. Male eyes from all corners of the room were on her, Eddie's included as he pulled her up and turned her in his arms, the contours of her back and buttocks fitting against him like a glove. Her heart was hammering in her chest as his hands slid up her thighs to her hips, rocking them together and stepping rhythmically. Felicity lifted an arm over her shoulder to bury her fingers in his hair, bringing his face down to her neck.
She could feel his breath on her neck, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin just below her ear and she closed her eyes, imagining for a brief moment that it was another man that was holding her. Then she was twirled again, thrusting her arm out and he did the same, their free hands lightly gripping the other's waists as they whirled around the floor one more time. He caught her hand as she spun free of him, dragging her back to him and slipping his hand down her spine to dip her for the last time.
Felicity was gulping air as the last beat abruptly stopped, droplets of sweat gathering at her hairline.
He's good, she thought to herself with a slight smirk, more pleased with herself than her partner's dance ability. Eddie helped her straighten to smatterings of applause and she inclined her head politely to their audience, content for the moment to let Eddie guide her back to the bar. Winded, she collapsed back onto her stool, not even waiting for an inhale before she downed the watered down remnants of her drink.
Eddie was grinning at her as he signaled to the bartender for two more whiskey and cokes.
"Where'd you learn to dance like that?" she asked curiously and he shrugged.
"Doesn't everyone take dancing lessons when they're kids?" he replied amicably and she let out a breathy laugh.
"I'd hope so," she admitted with a smile before adding, "Excuse me."
She stood up just as their drinks were delivered and started for the ladies room, hoping to dab away some of the sweat that was threatening to drop uncomfortably down her neck. Her make-up could probably use a little help to by now, but she wasn't worried about it. She'd impressed who she'd wanted to.
Did you now? And who was that? that little voice asked her snidely, obviously not finding the broom closet like she'd hoped.
Felicity ignored it, reaching out to grab the restroom door knob.
A large hand gripped her wrist tightly and jerked her to the side, into a darkened corner. Without warning her back slammed into the wall and the hand moved to brace against the side of her head. It's mate joined it on the other side, effectively trapping her once a leanly muscled body was pressing into her own. Grey eyes wide, she stared up into bright eyes.
Eyes that were bright blue and murderous.
"Having a good time, Sawyer?" a voice, tone dripping with acid, growled at her.
Not especially, but she was wise enough to keep that opinion to herself. That was the problem with spite work.
No matter how much fun you had while doing it, eventually it was coming back to bite you in the ass.
A/N: I really, really would loooove some feedback on this chapter because it was just too much fun to write. I've been picturing this chapter for months and I'm insanely pleased with how it turned out! So please, leave a review in de little box. Pretty please? :)
The song that Eddie and Flick danced to was Hall Om Mig Nu by Nanne Gronvall. Check it out if you get a chance. Cheers and on to the next chapter! :D