The bar was crowded and, at 10pm on a Saturday night it was likely going to get worse. Mark stood at the bar hunched over his beer. A beer he'd been sipping on for the past thirty minutes. He wasn't here to drink. He cursed himself for his weakness, for seeking her out again. He could see her from the corner of his eye. She was on the dance floor with her friends, laughing and dancing, completely unaware of the male attention that was focused on her. Half of the men in the bar were watching her too, waiting for an opening to approach her. A man, a boy really, finished off his beer and swaggered over to where she was dancing with her friends. He looked to be 21, Mark guessed, barely old enough to drink. That was her age, Mark reminded himself. She had turned 21 two months ago. Jealousy roared through him as he watched her smile at something the boy said to her. He wanted to be the one flirting with her. He didn't want any other man touching her. Steeling himself against the urge to go over and stake his claim, he took another sip of his now warm beer and watched.
Heather felt his presence before she saw him. He was here again. Butterflies danced nervously in her belly. She wasn't sure why she reacted this way every time she saw the dark, solitary man at the bar. He was there often, a regular patron of the bar the she herself favored. She knew who he was, recognized him from before, but wasn't sure if he recognized her. Heather had never seen him speak to anyone other than the bartender. His body language warned people off and most of the time that was enough incentive for people to give him a wide berth. Every once in a while she saw a woman who was brave enough to approach him, but they usually scurried away shortly after in defeat.
The approach of a young man dressed smartly in a button down shirt and dark jeans jolted her from her reverie. She had been staring at him! An embarrassed flush colored her cheeks. Thank goodness he hadn't seen her staring. The boy was talking to her and Heather had to force herself to pay attention to what he was saying. A dance, he wanted to dance. Smiling at him, accepted his invitation. She loved to dance. As she moved to the music her gaze wandered over to the dark corner of the bar where the man usually sat. The space was empty. Refusing to acknowledge the disappointment she felt to find that he was gone, Heather turned her attention to the boy who had asked her to dance. She thought he said his name was Dan. He was a pretty good dancer. Heather lost herself in the thumping rhythm of the music and tried to banish thoughts of dark, brooding men from her mind.
The hours flew by as Heather danced with Dan, then with two more guys who had found the courage to approach. She liked dancing, but wasn't really attracted to any of her dance partners. If they started to get too handsy she could usually send them on their way. Her current partner was fast approaching that point, she realized with a grimace. He tried to pull her hips close to his own, his hands sliding down to cup her ass. Yep. Definitely time to get rid of this guy. Smiling to lessen the sting of rejection, she firmly removed his hands, stepped back, and told him she wasn't interested. Unfortunately he didn't take no for an answer. He tried to grab her and pull her close again. Lord he must have been drunker than she realized. Either that or he was just a complete jerk. Looking for her friends for help, Heather realized that they were halfway across the room and weren't paying any attention to her predicament. Knowing that she was going to have to take care of this herself, she took a deep breath to prepare herself. Before she had the chance to do anything, she felt a large presence against her back.
"Hey baby, there you are!"
The voice was low and gravely and sinfully sexy. Like its owner. Heather glanced behind her and was shocked to find her mystery man. He looked at her expectantly, then at her overly ardent admirer and back to Heather. Oh! He was helping her. The drunken Romeo wanna be was still trying to dance. He hadn't noticed that Heather had stopped moving, nor had he heard the other man approach.
The mystery man didn't say anything else. He just wrapped his arm around Heather's waist and tugged her away and into his embrace. Heather went willingly, surprised that her legs were functioning. They felt like jelly. Her reaction to being this close to him made her faintly embarrassed. He smelled amazing. She had to restrain herself from pushing her face into his chest and just breathing in his scent. Vaguely she was aware that he was saying something to the drunk man she had been dancing with, who had finally realized that they were no longer alone. Heather didn't hear what they were saying, but was relieved when the other man stalked off moments later.
"You can probably let go of me now that he's gone."
OH! He was looking down at her with a hint of a grin on his face. Flushing, she realized that she was still clutching his waist and was basically plastered against his side. She stepped back, flustered. He nodded politely at her, and started to move away. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to stop him. With uncharacteristic boldness that shocked her, Heather reached out and grabbed his hand. His eyes dropped to where her hand gripped his then moved up to meet hers.
"Dance with me."