Free The Anchor by B.N. Toler Page B

“Sounds good. I’m empty.” If I’m going to survive this night with Nikki, I need to get shitfaced.
     

 

     
    Well, other than the completely awkward moment between Dierk and John, the party has gone smoothly. I’ve just finished dancing with the mayor and my feet are killing me, but to keep up appearances for the sake of my father, who couldn’t make it tonight, I suffered through it and danced with him. There’s a table in the back toward the corner of the tent and I beeline for it, praying to have a moment to sit and rest my feet. Why do my feet hurt so badly? I’ve never had a problem wearing heels. Do children really just completely suck the sexiness out of a woman from day one?
    I’m just about to step off of the dance floor when a strong arm bands around my waist and pulls me back.
    “How about a dance with your friend?” Parker murmurs in my ear. My body tenses as my heart races. I’ve been avoiding him all evening, afraid if we made eye contact he’d somehow know my secret. That’s silly, I know, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Turning to him, I glance up to find his dark eyes fixed on me, his mouth curved in a sexy half smile. Something in my belly flutters. He’s dressed in a black suit, the tie he wore earlier gone, and the top buttons of his white dress shirt are undone. He is a walking, talking sex on a stick. Pure sex in a suit.
    “I would, but my feet are killing me.” Not a complete lie. My feet hurt like hell, but I need to get away from him. Just looking at him makes me feel weak. Parker drops to the floor in front of me, one firm hand gently seizing my left calf and pulling my leg toward him.
    “What are you doing?” I hiss as I dart my eyes around frantically, looking to see if anyone is watching us. And of course, they are. “People are staring,” I whisper-yell to him. But he ignores me and slips off my strappy heel. Then he tenderly proceeds to pull at my other leg and removes that shoe as well. Tossing my shoes to the side, he stands and takes my hand and tries to lead me to the dance floor, but I resist.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    He gives me a smile that says, It’s cute you’re trying to resist me, but you should stop now, then yanks me a little harder, causing me to almost trip as the gaining momentum pulls me forward. I slam into him and his arms wrap around me, lifting me until my feet are off the floor and he carries me to the center. Placing me on the ground, he smirks. “Step on my feet.”
    I look at him like he’s gone mad. “What?”
    “Step. On. My. Feet.”
    I’m looking around again, just knowing people are staring. “Do you really give a fuck what these people think?”
    “Actually, I do,” I snap, my lethal glare meeting his eyes. He’s grinning now.
    “Good. Then step on my feet and dance with me or I’ll go grab that mic from the singer and really embarrass the shit out of you.”
    I snort and roll my eyes as I cross my arms. I don’t believe him for a second, and if he thinks I’ll fall victim to this little . . . oh, shit! He’s heading toward the stage. I nearly fly to catch him and stop him. “Okay! I’ll dance with you,” I say, through gritted teeth. God only knows what he’d say to this group of people.
    “Thought you’d see it my way,” he grins cockily as he takes me in his arms again. It takes all of my strength to keep my eyelids from fluttering as I take in the scent of his cologne. Damn, he smells good.
    Pulling my shoulders back, indicating my defiance, I ask, “Is this how you get all of your women? Manipulation?”
    “Manipulation?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t call it that.”
    “What would you call it then?” I ask dryly.
    “Coercion.” He shrugs and winks at me. I hate him and his stupid sexy wink. “Now, put your tiny feet on mine,” he orders again.
    “I’m not a toddler,” I point out. His eyes flex a fraction with humor, almost like he wants to say, “You’re