Page 30 of A Game of Deception

“Looking for someone?”

Ben appeared at my elbow with a knowing smile on his face.

“Just getting some air,” I lied.

Ben’s smile widened. “She’s at the bar. Alone for once. Diego got called away to deal with an issue at the door. One of his buddies couldn’t get in.”

I glanced toward the bar, and sure enough, there she was. Standing alone, her red dress a beacon in the dim light, her fingers wrapped around a glass of something clear.

“Thanks,” I said to Ben, already moving.

“Watch yourself,” he called after me. “Diego’s got a temper.”

I weaved through the crowd, my heart pounding in my ears louder than the bass that shook the floor. She saw me coming, her eyes tracking my approach in the mirror behind the bar. She didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge me, but I felt her awareness like a physical touch.

I took the empty spot beside her, not looking at her directly, just watching her reflection as she watched mine.

“You didn’t wear the green dress,” I said, my voice low but clear over the music.

Her lips curved into a small smile. “I told you I’d wear whatever I wanted.”

“The red suits you.”

“I didn’t ask for your approval.”

The bartender approached, and I ordered a whisky neat. In the mirror, I could see Diego re-entering the club, his eyes scanning the crowd. It wouldn’t be long before he spotted us.

“Your boyfriend’s back,” I said, nodding toward the entrance.

Tara’s smile tightened. “Diego is not my boyfriend.”

“Does he know that?”

“What I do or don’t do with Diego Mano is none of your business.” She turned to face me fully now, her eyes challenging. “Just like what I do or don’t do with you is none of his.”

The bartender set my whisky in front of me. I took a sip, letting the liquor coat my tongue before I spoke again.

“So, what exactly are we doing, Tara?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” I set my glass down, turning to face her. “The PT session. The texts. Whatever happened in that room…that wasn’t just doctor and patient.”

Her eyes flashed with something that might have been anger, or desire, or both. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” I stepped closer, close enough to smell her perfume, and the light floral scent made my head spin. “Tell me you didn’t feelit. Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it all day, just like I have.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but her eyes suddenly widened, looking past me. I turned to see Diego approaching, his face dark with fury.

“Game over, McCrae,” he barked. “She doesn’t want your bullshit.”

I glanced at Tara, watching emotions battle across her face. Want versus fear. Risk versus reason. We stood on the edge of something dangerous. One more move and we’d both crash with no safety nets.

But I’d had enough of caution. Enough of the hints, the unsaid things, the near misses.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, loud enough to cut through the bass.

No dark corners. No private moment. Right there, with Diego and half the team gawking, I took her face in my hands and kissed her.