Lara flushed as she reached the table of men in question, setting their drinks down. “One Copa Verde, one Bermuda Black, and one Cold Shower,” she announced. “Enjoy, boys.”
The ‛boys’ were men, really, probably fresh from the office and ready to enjoy a wild Friday night. They’d loosened their ties and lost their jackets, and already stank of alcohol. As Lara moved away from the table, one of them slapped her rear—hard.
“Hey, babe, how about a Screaming Orgasm over here?” He leered at her, tone annoyingly assured, as if he was entitled to anything from her.
Lara whirled round to glare at him, a growl working up her throat. “Back off.”
His friends laughed. “Watch it, Greg, she’s got claws!” one crowed, winking at Lara.
They didn’t know the half of it. She started to walk away again, but Greg leapt up, catching her arm and yanking her towards him. “Hey, chill out,” he told her, leaning in way too close. She could smell the nose-wrinkling odor of vodka on his breath, not to mention the distinctive musk of an aroused male. “I’m just being friendly, you know?”
Revolted, she shook him off. “No manhandling the staff, pal, unless you want to be barred.” God, she wished she could shapeshift right now. It would be so satisfying to bite his groping fingers off.
“Come on,” he whined. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so uptight. I bet I could loosen you up…”
Alchemy’s front doors flew open and the cool scent of mountain rain and cats flooded Lara’s senses. She gasped, whirling away from Gropey Greg to see Zane Walker stride through the door.
Oh God. Her knees went weak. He looked just like she remembered—tanned and strong, dark blonde hair ruffled, big hands clenched into bigger fists. His amber eyes widened with surprise, and then narrowed with anger as he scanned the bar and saw her. He stormed towards her, those lush lips she’d never stopped dreaming about pressed together in a thin, angry line.