When I look up and meet his eyes, the intensity of his stare penetrates my entire body. “Sorry,” I mouth.
But I don’t even finish before he gives a smooth shake of his head and murmurs, “Don’t worry about it.”
He turns his attention back to the windshield, but I don’t take mine off him. With a strong jaw, smooth skin, and the perfect amount of stubble, Theo is certainly easy on the eyes.
“La-la-la-Lena!” Pippa breaks my Theo-induced trance, and I turn my eyes to meet hers.
She’s a bold combination of smeared mascara, messy hair, and a lazy gaze.
“Yeah, Pip?”
“I liked that club. It was so fun. Everything but the dodgy DJ.”
I laugh out loud. “Dodgy DJ, Pip! You almost got into a fistfight with him, for shit’s sake.”
She laughs like it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever said. “I did not get into a fistfight with the DJ.”
“I said almost, Pip. You almost got into one.”
“Eh, I didn’t do bugger all. I just wanted to see his mic.”
“Yeah. DJs generally get mad about shit like that.”
“I wonder if he’s still mad about it,” she mutters to herself, and before I can look away from her slouched form beside me, she pulls something out of her purse. “You think he’s still mad?”
I squint my eyes to see what she has and gasp.
“Pippa!” I exclaim, yanking it from her hands. “Did you steal the DJ’s mic?”
She shrugs.
“Christ.” I stare down at the mic that’s now in my hands. “I can’t believe you stole the fucking microphone from the club!”
Was she a pickpocket in a past life?
She rummages through her purse some more, and before I know it, she’s pulling out a whole loot of illegally procured goods—a shot glass, a pint glass, a bottle of hand soap, and a fedora.
“Holy hell, Pip! What is wrong with you?”
Theo’s eyes move over Pippa’s haul, and a slow smirk spreads across his perfect mouth. “It’s like Mary Poppins’s bag of theft back there.”
Oh God, he’s hot and funny. I’m in trouble.
Pippa, apparently, notices him for the first time and drops her voice to a comically loud whisper. “Lena, who is the bloody fuckable gentleman in the front seat?”
A laugh that I can’t hold back escapes my lips.
“I don’t know, Pip,” I say with a sly smile aimed right at the man in question. “I’m really starting to wonder that too.”
Theo
“Pippa, for the love of God, hold still,” Lena mutters as she wrestles her friend’s Frankenstein arms that are swinging wildly in front of her. She’s been forced to perform athletic skills worthy of the contestants on American Ninja Warrior just to unbuckle her friend’s seat belt, and frankly, it’s remarkable to watch.
One long, tanned leg draped up and over a tangled rope made of their arms, Lena breaks her friend’s hold on the seat in front of her and huffs a breath. I bite my lip to withhold a smirk and do my part by holding the car door open and out of the way.
“I can’t,” the drunken thief by the name of Pippa says, eyes closed, her arms doing some kind of rhythmic movement to whatever beat is playing inside her head. “I’m doing an interpretive dance. I’m calling it…coitus prepa-redness. It loosens the body and clears the mind for a very complicated sex-you-all position called the Flying Eagle.”
I grin and Lena growls.
“You should try it, Leenie Bean,” Pippa snorts through a laugh. “Don’t you Americans love eagles?”
I have to cover my mouth with a hand as Lena passes her small black handbag to me over her shoulder and manhandles her friend’s arms. “Goddammit, Pip. You’re still in the car.”
“I am?”
“Yes,” Lena almost shouts. “I’m trying to get you out of the car, but for the love of God, you have to stop moving your fucking arms.”
“I can’t help it, Lena! It’s the dance of your people!” she shouts and then proceeds to dive straight into a rendition of “Wind Beneath My Wings.” “I can fly high-errrr than an eeee-gulll, Lee-naaaa!”
“You need a little help?” I ask finally when Lena puts her hands to her hips and heaves a deep breath.
I didn’t want to intrude or, worse yet, offend Lena by insinuating she couldn’t handle the situation on her own, but it’s becoming alarmingly clear that even Hulk Hogan wouldn’t be able to move this woman before she’s ready.
Lena looks over her shoulder to meet my eyes, her cheeks brushed delicately with a crimson smudge as a result of all her effort. Her eyes sparkle with both determination and desperation, and all of it combined makes her look alive.
It’s so uncharacteristically caveman of me, but I can’t help but wonder how impressive a showing her features make when she comes. I don’t know if it’s her eyes or her smile or the perfectly curved lines of her body, but she is, hands down, the most erotically beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
She blows an errant strand of blond hair out of her face and smiles sardonically. “I’m not sure there’s any amount of help that could get her out of this damn car.”
I laugh. She’s probably right, but I have a lot of things I’d rather be doing than standing here. Namely, finding out if my fantasy of Lena is even close to the real thing. “Mind if I give it a go?”
Lena shrugs and backs away, leaving me room to step up to the opened door, so I don’t hesitate. I lean down into the open space, close enough to the dancing queen to be heard but out of range of her arms. “Pippa, is it?”
She jerks the motion of her arms to a stop and stares up into my face. She’s looking me directly in the eyes, but with the way she’s squinting, I’d say she’s having a hard time focusing.
“Who’s asking?”
“Theo,” I say simply, letting a friendly smile curl the edges of my mouth. “How about I carry you upstairs so you can get some rest?”
A lazy smile consumes her lips, and her eyes fall closed. “Rest? I don’t need bloody rest,” she counters, the irony thickened by her eyes’ failure to open again.
“I know,” I assure her. “You’re fine. But your friend Lena really needs it.”
“Ohhh. S’tired, huh?”
Lena scoffs behind me, but I don’t turn around. I’m too close to getting Pippa out of the damn car to lose focus now. “Yes. I’ll bring you upstairs, and you can see that she gets to bed okay. Does that sound like a plan?”
“You betcha,” she says with a smack of her lips as she melts into the leather seat.
I reach in to unbuckle her seat belt, and she laughs, grabbing my hand before I can pull it away. “Feel free to unbutton my pants too.”
Lena lets out a strangled squeak behind me, and I have to bite my lip to fight my laughter. “Let’s keep the pants on until we get upstairs,” I suggest.
“A bloody gentleman,” Pippa remarks and then purses her lips dramatically. “Pity.”
I pull her out of the car and swing her to her feet gently. She looks a little like a newborn foal trying to get her legs underneath herself, but I make quick work of shuffling her away from the car and into the lobby.