“It’s damn good to be back with you guys,” Ghost announced, holding up his beer. Bottles clinked as they toasted.

“I’m just damn glad to have you back at the parlor.” Brian grinned, sporting two dimples that belied the image conveyed by all the ink and piercings and longish, unkempt black hair. Unkempt mainly because Candace couldn’t keep her fingers out of it.

“Oh, is that all I am to you? Your f**kin’ workhorse?”

“Whatever else you are, the fact remains that we’ve been busting ass since you left. And now Connor is gone, so it’s not going to get much easier, but at least it won’t get any worse.”

“I can’t wait to get back at it. But I can’t help you out Saturday.”

Brian’s bottle thunked down. “What?”

“Can’t do it. I need to practice with the guys.”

“But dude. Saturday.”

“I’m picking up what you’re puttin’ down, honey bunch, but they’ve been panicking, and they’re going to end up kicking me out of the band if I can’t make the next gig.”

Macy grinned at the endearment he tossed in. Brian shook his head wearily, sitting back in his booth. “You son of a bitch.”

“Look at him pout. Don’t pout, dude. Ross the boss will get the job done.”

“A helluva lot easier if I had the Ghost with the most at my side.”

“Aw. Is that a proposal? See how he loves me? Candace, you don’t stand a chance.”

“Oh, will you stop? Macy’s going to get jealous.” Candace winked and jumped in her seat as Macy kicked her in the shin.

But Ghost didn’t miss a beat in his exchange with his friend, shaking out his right hand. “I might be a little rusty, Bri. Can I practice on you?”

“Hell no.”

He leaned his shoulder into Macy. “How ’bout you, sweetness?”

“Um, no. No ink for me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Candace said. “She would shriek and run if that needle came anywhere near her.”

“It’s not the needle. It’s the thought of being permanently…marked.” The very idea gave her the heebie-jeebies.

She nearly leaped out of her skin when Ghost’s pinky finger traced the edge of her denim mini under the table, coming dangerously close to her flesh. “Maybe it’s all about who’s doing the marking.”

“No, it’s definitely…” His fingertip grazed the top of her thigh. She tugged the collar of her shirt. “Ahem. Definitely not something I’d be interested in, no matter who’s doing it.”

“But I do it so well.”

Macy narrowed her eyes at him, pouring all the will she had left into her gaze. He did a lot of things well. That didn’t mean she had to let him do them to her. “I know you do. But it’s still not happening.”

His hand left her leg, and he faced forward again, his grin as infuriating as she’d ever seen it. “All right.”

Dammit! When she realized her words hadn’t held a double meaning like his, she hated herself. She hadn’t meant for him to stop touching her.

His long fingers curled around his beer bottle, when they could’ve been on her. She watched in helpless fascination as he lifted it to his mouth…one of the best mouths she’d ever seen. Full, sensuous and defined, yet devastatingly masculine. She could apply that description to every part of him, really.

“Macy!” A familiar voice yanked her from her greedy perusal. Her heart sank as she looked up and saw Jared passing by their table, a big grin on his handsome face that clearly said he’d had a few too many.

Forcing a smile, she gave him a wave she hoped was a good balance between friendly and dismissive. “Oh, hey. Good seeing you.”

“You’d better dance with me before you leave here, girl!” And the crowd swallowed him back up.

Brian and Candace exchanged a glance and although Ghost didn’t comment, she could sense the tension that seeped into his body.

Really, though, what did he care if she danced with someone else? They’d had sex in his car once. Very, very good sex, but still. Big freaking whoop.

She drained her beer and waved for another.

Somewhere in the steady stream of alcohol the waitress—God bless her—kept bringing Macy, she found Ghost’s hand back on her upper thigh. She might have even grabbed it and put it there herself. Who knew? All she cared about was that his palm was big and warm and possessive, and she liked it being on her skin. But damn if she was going to let him get between her legs—

Oh. Crap. He was going there. And she was letting him. The heat coming from her sex wouldn’t allow for anything less. She squirmed in her seat, the tiny motion making her skirt ride up more. His fingertips followed, feathering higher up her leg. He was almost to the edge of her panties, which had gone incredibly damp since—

“Are you all right, Macy? You look a little flushed.”

Just as Macy began to nod quickly, Ghost swigged his beer and jerked his head in her direction. “She looks that way because I have my hand up her skirt.”

He did not just say that. She went ramrod straight and snapped her legs closed as everyone at the table laughed. Candace said, “Oh, you wish.”

All Macy had succeeded in doing was trapping his hand between her thighs.

His thumb stroked across her skin, coaxing her to open to him again. She wanted to. But if he was only going to embarrass her in front of everyone…

She gave the back of his wrist a little warning smack. Beside her, his lip quirked, and he gave her a see what I did there? wink.

For the hundredth time, she thought about how she should stop this. She should. But his fingers curled into her flesh and pulled her leg against the side of his and dammit, she didn’t stop him, couldn’t stop him. Once he had a little room to work with, he slid his hand up, bunching her skirt again.

She killed her drink and ordered another. His pinky finger grazed the silk of her panties, silk he’d find wet and little barrier to the throbbing flesh beneath. Thankfully, the waitress plunked her refreshed drink in front of her, so she had something to hold on to instead of clenching her fists on the tabletop. With the side of his finger, he was drawing tantalizing circles around her aching clit through the damp fabric.

The conversation still went on among her friends. Ghost even took part, laughing and wisecracking while her freaking toes curled and she resisted the urge to…bite him. Or grab his head and kiss him wildly. Or fling herself back in the booth and have a heaving orgasm. Or at least help him pull her panties aside so he could sink his fingers into her.

But she knew he couldn’t. Crammed together in the booth, he didn’t have the range of mobility for such a feat without giving them away. She couldn’t let him make her come or—

“I think you should slow down,” Candace said, and it took a moment for Macy to realize she was talking to her.

“What?” she asked, cursing the husky breathlessness of her own voice.

Candace chuckled. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Enough…no, not nearly enough. Her gaze alighted on her empty drink. Shit. She meant alcohol. How many had she had, trying to squelch the heat and keep her hands busy so she didn’t yank Ghost on top of her right in front of everyone?