Okay, that was enough. Rock was being an ass, as usual. I stood, but clumsily lost my balance. Rock’s strong arms steadied me.

Damn that spark that hurtled through me at his touch.

“Easy, baby,” he said. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Just three bourbons.” Or did we have four?

“And a couple glasses of wine at dinner, if I remember correctly.”

Fox stood then. “You had dinner with him?”

I opened my mouth, but only a squeak came out.

“Easy, pretty boy,” Rock said. “It was just happenstance. But I’ll tell you one thing that’s for certain. Only one person is taking this lady home, and it isn’t you.”

Again I tried to speak but couldn’t. I hadn’t been planning to go anywhere with Fox. He was way too young for me and not my type at all. I didn’t go for the fine-featured handsome types. No. I was much more interested in rugged handsome, strong handsome—kind of like the man who was ushering me out of the bar.

I didn’t plan on going anywhere with him, either.

“Rock, I’m fine. Let me go. I’ll get a cab.”

“You’re not going anywhere alone. You’re completely obliterated.”

“I don’t get obliterated on three drinks.” Or was it four? Even as I said the words, I was having trouble walking, and my vision was a little blurry. Good thing I hadn’t driven.

Oh, wait. I didn’t own a car.

“Are you used to bourbon?”

“Well…not really.”

“Then why were you drinking it?”

“I don’t know.” But I did. I drank it because he drank it. Because Rock Wolfe had taken over my mind and apparently my body. I’d said the exact thing he’d said to the server at dinner.

Now I was paying for it.

And poor Fox was paying a— “How much is that bourbon, anyway?” I asked Rock, as he flagged down a cab.

“Sixty-five dollars a shot.”

“Sixty-five dollars!” Nausea edged up my throat. I was going to be sick. Really sick. Fox and I had each had three, possibly four. And Paul and the others had joined us on the last round after we both sang its praises.

“Oh my God…”

“He’ll get over it, Lace.”

“But that’s…” My mind wasn’t calculating rapidly. Too much booze. “Over six hundred dollars for what we drank. Plus the other drinks.” I rubbed my temples. Already a headache was forming. From the bourbon or leaving Fox with such a bill, I wasn’t sure.

All because I’d mimicked Rock’s words.

“Easy.” Rock helped me into a cab and then slid in beside me. “Are you going to throw up?”

I rubbed my forehead. “No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Not in my cab,” the driver said.