The wide hallway teemed with people. Some of the dresses bordered on spectacular, and Amery wanted a closer peek, but it’d be a faux pas to gawk, so she feigned aloofness.

He slid his arm around her back and settled his hand on her hip. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, I’d like five drinks.”

“How about we start with one?” Ronin steered her out of the room and down the opposite hallway. He nodded to several people but didn’t stop to speak to anyone. A waiter held a tray of champagne.

“Ooh, I’d like some of that.”

He snagged two glasses and handed one to her. “May tonight be full of welcome surprises.”

Amery clinked the crystal flute against his and drank. Okay, that was really good. “This is not Brut champagne.”

“No, but don’t ask me what it is because I’m not a wine connoisseur.” His molten gaze drifted over her. “But looking at you, I know I have the absolute finest taste in women.”

Amery blushed.

“I’d like nothing better than to taste you right now. Suck the champagne from your tongue. Lick it from your lips. Pour it down the center of your body and lap it from between your thighs.”

Her belly swooped.

“I like that all I have to do is look in your eyes and I see what you’re feeling.”

“So you know what I’m feeling right now?” she countered.

Ronin let his knuckles follow the curve of her jaw. “You’re turned on but you don’t want to be. You’re trying hard to fit in, but you outshine them all. And you’re wondering why I’m saying all this now when we’re in public. Maybe someone will overhear. But I don’t give a good goddamn if that happens.”

“Does that drummer in your head always do his own thing?”

“Always.”

She drained her champagne and grabbed another glass before hooking her arm through his. “Let’s mingle. I want to spot some celebrities.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“The only mover and shaker I know in Denver is Alexis Carrington.”

He shook his head. “Fictional TV character. Try again.”

“I was so hoping for a catfight between her and Krystle—a hair-pulling, clothes-ripping, shoe-throwing beat-down.”

“Aren’t you a little young to have grown up watching Dynasty?”

“I watched reruns every day after school. My mother, for being a self-professed happy homemaker, wasn’t happy when school dismissed for the day. She let me and my brother watch whatever we wanted. Yes, we did make fun of it, but it was an eye-opener as to how the really rich lived. Not a lot of billionaires in North Dakota.” She laughed. “I wouldn’t know how to act if I ever met a billionaire anyway.”

“I’m sure you’d do just fine. Nothing special about them, trust me.”

They’d almost crossed into the banquet hall when a voice boomed, “Ronin Black.” Then an African-American guy about six foot five and three hundred and fifty pounds blocked their path. “I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Sensei Black. In the flesh. At a party. But here you are.” He offered a formal bow, which Ronin returned. Then he thrust out his hand. “Man, it’s good to see you.”

“Same goes.” Ronin drew her forward. “Tegs Green, meet Amery Hardwick.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Amery said.

“You too.” Tegs grinned. “Got you a real foxy one, eh? She know about the time I whipped up on the unbeatable Master Black?”

“You sitting on me and squashing me like a bug hardly qualifies as a true victory, Tegs. And I choked you out after you let me up, so no whipping up on me there either.”

“I always forget that you wrapped those lethal fingers around my throat until I passed the motherfuck out.”

“Which is why I always remind you.”

“Such a hardass.” Tegs addressed Amery. “This psycho f**ker made me run three miles on a treadmill. Three miles,” he repeated. “Look at this body. Do you think it f**king enjoys running? Hell no. But I did it. Puked like a frat boy on the first weekend of college afterward, but I goddamn did it.”

Amery had heard Ronin acted as a personal trainer, but this was the first evidence she’d seen of it. “Good for you. I keep trying to convince him to teach me a shoulder throw.”

Tegs laughed. “Little-bitty sprite like you throwing grown men around? You go, sister.” He held out his knuckles for a fist bump. “I hope the first guy you throw on his ass is that sadistic f**ker Deacon, ’cause I’d pay good money to see that.”

“Deacon didn’t like it any better than I did when you sat on him,” Ronin said.

“Don’t matter. S’what I get paid to do.” He clapped Ronin on back. “Really great to see you out and about, old-timer.”

After Tegs left, Amery said, “He’s some kind of sports guy, right?”

“Tegs plays offensive tackle for the Broncos.”

“Should I have recognized him?”

“Only if you’re a football fan.”

“Are you a die-hard sports fan?”

He shrugged. “I’ll watch a game if it’s on. I try to keep up with what’s going on locally. But I’m not a fanatic.”

A shadow fell over them again.

Ronin faced Tegs. “What now?”

Tegs’s hands came up in surrender. “Whoa. Don’t shoot the messenger. Krueger wants to talk to you.”