I feign indignation. “Are you suggesting I take too long to get ready?”
“No,” he growls, grabbing my ass. “I’m saying that you naked is a huge fucking distraction, and I want to take you out to dinner.”
My face heats, and I bite my lip. “Well, I’ll be dressed, but it will take me twenty minutes to dry this mane.” I flick the ends of my hair.
He kisses me again and flashes me a wink. “As long as this sexy body is covered, I’ll be okay.” He stalks toward the shower and pulls off his clothes. I take a few beats to admire his muscular back before I force myself to leave the room, knowing if I stare at him any longer, I’ll join him in that shower.
“This place is beautiful, Nate.” I shrug off my coat and glance around the restaurant. Although it’s entirely indoors, it’s decorated like a Spanish garden, and the soft flamenco music is interspersed with faint birdsong.
He pulls out my chair. “My mom used to love coming here. She brought us here all the time as kids.”
I smile up at him, grateful for the piece of insight. He doesn’t talk about his mom often, and I know it’s a painful subject for him. A waiter comes to get our order, and without looking at the menu, Nathan orders a bottle of wine and food for both of us.
“Melanie Edison!” a loud voice calls out as soon as the waiter drops off our wine, and I look up to see an old college classmate heading my way, a goofy grin on his face.
I don’t even have time to look at Nathan before Craig grabs my hand and pulls me up into a hug. “What the hell, Melanie. I haven’t seen you since—”
“It’s great to see you,” I cut him off before he can go any further.
He squeezes me tighter, and the strong smell of beer nearly knocks me out.
“Do you mind taking your hands off my fucking wife?” Nathan growls possessively.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I try to take a step back so I can untangle myself from Craig’s embrace, but he holds tight. “Craig, this is my husband, Nathan.”
“Your husband, huh?” He looks down, flashing me a grin while still holding onto me before he looks over my shoulder at Nathan.
I glance behind me just in time to see my irate husband stand up, his shoulders rolled back and his jaw clenched. Again, I attempt to wriggle out of Craig’s embrace, but he’s so drunk that he hangs on like a limpet.
“If you don’t take your hand off my wife’s ass right now, I will break every bone in both goddamn hands.”
I wrench myself out of my old college buddy’s grip, and his eyes widen in shock. “It was nice to see you, Craig. You should go.”
He blinks at me, then at Nathan.
“Craig, dude! We’re leaving!” someone shouts from across the restaurant.
He glances in their direction before turning back to Nathan and me. “Nice to meet you too,” he huffs, and goes to join his friend.
I sit back down, my neck and chest hot. “Why did you behave like that?”
Nathan sits too, a heavy scowl furrowing his brow. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Yes. He was just some guy from college.”
“He had his hand on your fucking ass.”
I roll my eyes. “It was my back.”
His narrowed eyes pierce mine, and he shifts forward in his seat. “Pretty sure I know the difference between your back and your ass, Mel.”
Tilting my jaw, I glare at him. So it’s okay for him to have beautiful women hugging him, but when I meet an old friend there’s an issue? What a hypocrite. “Pretty sure I know my own body better than you do.”
He leans closer, his scowl deepening. “I wouldn’t bet on that, corazón.”
I swallow, my skin burning under the intensity of his glare. “He was drunk, that’s all. I’m sure he didn’t know what he was doing.”
“So he did have a hand on your ass?”
I shake my head. “I never said that. He was an old friend, and you acted like a possessive jerkwad because he hugged me. Yet women are allowed to hug you, and when I question that, you …” I suck in a ragged breath as I recall the night at the charity gala last month. Wet heat sears between my thighs.
Nathan circles his hand around my wrist. “I what?”
“If I recall correctly, you said something about curbing my bad attitude.”
His expression darkens, like he’s remembering that night too. “And I’ll do it again if I need to. Right here at this table.”
My lip trembles, but I glare defiantly. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I’d love nothing more than to put you over my knee and spank the attitude out of you, corazón.”
“So do it,” I challenge.
He holds my gaze for a few seconds, his lips twitching, before he releases my wrist and calls the restaurant manager to our table. I can only watch as they have a brief but animated exchange in Spanish, and I’m starting to worry it’s becoming heated when the manager smiles and pats Nathan on the shoulder. With a polite nod in my direction, he walks to the nearest table of diners.
“What was that about?” I ask.
