It worked as Micah had hoped, and Damon laughed.

Even as the sexual tension between them dissipated, Micah couldn’t bring himself to regret it – not when he was treated so rarely to the sound.

“No,” Damon assured as his laughter trailed off, “definitely not.” And then more seriously: “I really am sorry about Renata. If I knew it bothered you, I would have told her to stop. I didn’t even know she was going to be here.”

“She just acts so familiar with you,” Micah said, feeling the need to explain his discomfort with her behavior even though Damon hadn’t asked for an explanation. “Not even your sisters are so touchy-feely… well, maybe Joelle,” Micah mollified. He tilted his head to the side. “I mean, is Renata an ex or something?” He realized it was a personal question as soon as he’d asked it, but before he could open his mouth to backtrack-

Damon sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. “Renata isn’t an ex. More like… a mistake.”

As annoyed as he was with the woman, Micah still winced. “Ouch.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… she’s one of Caprice’s best friends – a model and influencer she met while traveling after university.” Of course, the hot, leggy brunette was a model. “She’s had a thing for me as long as I can remember-”

“Yeah, she doesn’t exactly hide it, does she?”

Damon quirked an eyebrow. “Anyway, one night, shortly after my parents died, I was in a bad place, and well… I slept with her. It should have never happened,” he rushed to add. “I used her, basically, and I feel terrible about it. And ever since, well… her infatuation hasn’t exactly ebbed, has it?”

Wow. That explained a lot, actually. He’d probably be acting just as thirsty for Damon as Renata if he’d gotten a taste of the man and had to let him go afterwards.

Micah shrugged. “Okay.”

Damon seemed disbelieving. “Okay?”

“Well, it’s not like I agree with using people for sex, but you were both consenting adults – and it was long before we met, obviously – so why would I be mad?”

“So… you’ll dance with me then?”

Micah snorted. “Renata had nothing to do with why I said no to dancing.” (Although, admittedly, it had had a lot to do with his bratty attitude.)

Damon crossed his arms over his chest, sizing Micah up. “So you’d rather stay here at the table and talk then?”

Micah shrugged. “Sure.”

But before he could pull out his chair, Damon was intercepting his hand. “Okay, maybe you can tell me how you happen to know what kind of Glocks the NYPD uses then.”