“Nick,” he said, turning back to me and holding out his hand.
“Carmen.” I shook the offered hand, and almost wished I hadn’t; his hands were so warm and welcoming, so electric, that I instantly imagined them trailing all over my body. Breaking the hold, I cleared my throat.
He looked at me expectantly for a moment, and I smiled uncertainly. He pursed his lips, then seemed to come to a decision. Settling more comfortably on the barstool, he shot me a wicked glance from beneath his strong brow. “So…come here often?”
“Really? That’s your opening line?” I cocked an eyebrow at him, silently daring him to do better.
He grinned, and it lit up the whole room, stealing my breath away. “Okay, do-over,” he said, chuckling. “Excuse me, miss. I couldn’t help but notice the way you put up your hair. That braided knot makes you look absolutely regal. And your eyes! God strike me dead if the eyeshadow you chose doesn’t just make them pop.”
I giggled, delighted. “You, sir, have quite the talent for compliments,” I told him, sitting up a little straighter. I felt like an absolute queen.
“Thank you, but I can’t take all the credit. I was schooled in the ways of compliment-giving by a very forceful but dear friend of mine.”
“Oh? And what lessons did your friend teach you?”
“The first, last, and most important lesson was this: that you only compliment an attractive woman on the things over which she has control. A woman hears about her shape, her eyes, and her smile often enough to make her want to tear her pretty hair out.”
“Truth,” I said, raising my water glass in salute. “It’s far more interesting to be applauded for one’s skills.”
“It’s my own shame that I never thought about that before. As a man, I’d been complimented on the things I did and chose my entire life. Comments about my appearance never made or broke my day, but then I never got many.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe.” I allowed my eyes to trail from his thick, dark hair down his chiseled jaw and cheekbones, over his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He was the very ideal of masculine beauty. I wondered if he knew how to use his body as well as he knew how to use his charm.
“Oh, there have been some,” he said with a grin and a wink. “Proportionally, however, I have definitely received more compliments on my skills.”
“And what skills would those be?” I asked, failing to keep the suggestiveness out of my tone.
He touched his lower lip with his tongue before scraping his teeth along the thin skin and breaking once more into that devilish grin. The gesture nearly made me groan; cocky, but full of vibrant feeling. “Guessing favorite drinks. Not my best skill, but the one best suited to our current location. What’ll it be, a strawberry margarita with sugar and lime?”
“How did you know?”
“I’m that good.” He grinned at me again, and my heart just about fluttered right out of my chest.
I scanned the bar as Nick was ordering, looking for Tyra again. She was a solid half hour late at this point, and I didn’t see her anywhere. For a moment, I worried that she had come in, seen me talking to the man, and decided to leave us to it; but that wasn’t really how she worked. She was far more likely to saunter over and introduce herself, making it known that she was my best friend and would throw down to protect my heart if need be.
I let it go with a shrug. She probably got in a fight with Donovan as she was getting ready to leave; either that or they had made up and were spending their time in a much more pleasant way. Either way, she was probably fine. I decided to give her another hour or so before calling to check on her.
“Shall we?” Nick asked, gesturing toward an empty booth with the pink drink in his hand. “Not that I don’t love quick service, but if we’re going to be here a while, it might be more comfortable.” And more private, his eyes seemed to say.
“Good idea.” I followed him to the booth and slid into it before I realized that he was holding two identical drinks. “A fan of strawberry margaritas?” I asked, trying not to sound too surprised.
“Never tried one,” he confessed. “But somebody was raving about them last weekend, so I figured I’d give them a try.”
“That person has good taste in drinks.” I sipped mine and immediately felt the last string of tension from the insane week unwind off of my spine.
“She does indeed,” he said after sipping the drink. “This is like dessert.”
“Dessert that’ll get you twisted.” I laughed. “The best kind of dessert.”
“Getting tipsy is good once in a while,” he said with a curious reassurance in his tone. “Especially if you have a hard time relaxing in other ways.”
“That is certainly true,” I said with a sigh. “I swear, the older I get, the fewer things I have to relax me. Can’t smoke. Can’t drink. It’s like I wasted all of my relaxation on the years when I didn’t need to relax.” I laughed, and he chuckled sympathetically along with me.
“I would tell you that you aren’t old, but I think you know that. You’re not really the kind of woman who fishes for compliments either, I wouldn’t think.”
“I’m glad you see that,” I said, relieved. “A lot of people don’t. I’m not very good at diplomacy or social games. I really just say what I mean, and it’s been a struggle finding a group of people who don’t read too far into it, you know? Sometimes, a vent is just a vent and a compliment is just a compliment.”
“And sometimes a problem is just an invitation for a solution,” he added. “Take the problem of relaxation, for example. Yeah, you don’t want to kill yourself unwinding…so you get in touch with someone who knows how to relax you without hurting anything.”
“Do those people exist?” I asked lightly.
He merely grinned at me secretively and took one last swallow of his drink. “I’m going to get another. You want one?”
“Yes, please.”
I watched him walk away, appreciating the way he moved. It was a graceful sort of masculinity; as though he would be equally successful on the dance floor or in a bar fight. I realized that the hour I had given Tyra had passed without a sign of her, and was about to call her when he returned, drinks in hand.
“Everything okay?” he asked, glancing at the phone.
“Yeah, I’m sure everything’s fine,” I said as I slipped the phone back into my purse. She and Donovan did tend to lose track of time when the two of them were together, so I wasn’t really worried.
“I’m glad.” His eyes softened as he smiled at me. “The first date in a while is always nerve-wracking.”
“Don’t you date much?” I asked. I didn’t believe it for a second. Young, single, handsome, male…there was no reason I could see why he wouldn’t be out every night of the week, stamina allowing.
“I get by,” he said with a half-shrug. “Just know that you call the shots, Carmen. Your comfort is the most important thing in the world to me tonight.”
With a shock, I realized that he had been talking about my dating history, not his own. Was it that obvious? My cheeks flushed, and he touched my hand.
“So, what do you do for work?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
His eyes glittered mischievously as he ran a finger back and forth over my knuckles. “Officially? I’m a bartender.”
“Oh. Do you enjoy it?” I asked. More disappointment seeped into my voice than I had intended, and I washed it down with a drink.
“Yes, I do. The people, the stories, the tips…don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to retire on it, but I enjoy it for the moment.”
“What about when the moment ends?”
I swear his smile was making impossible things happen in my belly. I’m pretty sure organs aren’t actually allowed to do somersaults.
“Sky’s the limit. I’m chock full of aspirations, beautiful.” His wink was like lightning to my nerves, and the way the light reflected off of his black hair made me want to bury my fingers in it.
“So I’ve heard,” he said with a nod. “I wish I could say you were the first woman I’d met who had come to that conclusion, but it seems to be a widespread problem. Second only to men who can’t satisfy their lady friends in the bedroom.”
“Hurray, I’m two for two,” I said, laughing. To be fair, I thought, I’m not much better at satisfying myself.
The thought must have shown on my face, because his eyes darkened and he touched my cheek, biting his lip in that sexy, sexy way.
“Sometimes all it takes is one success to open up a world of possibilities,” he said huskily. He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Trust me. I’ve watched women blossom like flowers after a particularly earth-shattering success. Suddenly, they know they can do anything. All of their broken dreams stitch themselves back together like magic. No more washing them away with alcohol.”
Oh, God. I suddenly knew where I’d seen him before, and my heart plunged into my gut.
Chapter 4
Nick
Her face fell as her eyes widened in horror. Confused, I drew back. “What’s wrong, Carmen? Are you all right?”
“I—I canceled this meeting.” It came out in a hiss between her teeth, and her eyes began glittering with embarrassment.
Crap. I searched my memory in an instant, searching for any recollection of any cancellations this week, and coming up empty.
“I didn’t get a cancellation, Carmen.”
“But I did. I canceled, I swear.”
“You sent the cancellation request tonight?” I could have missed it if she sent it after I left. I pulled out my phone and opened my email; lots of new appointment requests, but nothing from her.
“No, a week ago! Look…” She took her own phone out of her purse and frantically tapped the screen. There was a long silence as she searched for the phantom email, then she blushed a deep red. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?”
“I—I wrote it, but it didn’t send. Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.” She buried her face in her hands, looking adorable in her distress. Linda, my boss at the escort service, would tell me that the patriarchy had brainwashed me into finding a woman’s distress attractive; I chose to believe that this woman, in particular, was simply that adorable, no matter her state.
Carmen pulled her hands away, eyes blazing with an intensity which rocked me where I sat. “Why didn’t you introduce yourself as Nick Steel from the beginning?”
“I always defer to my client’s wishes,” I told her. “When you didn’t seem to recognize me, I assumed you wanted to scope me out casually, play up the chance meeting without blowing your cover. But…I’m confused. If you wanted to cancel, why are you here?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and downed the rest of her drink in a gulp. “I was supposed to meet my friend here, but she never showed. Her idea, not mine. Same time, same place. A ridiculous coincidence.”
“That is pretty coincidental,” I agreed. I wanted to ask her why she had wanted to cancel, but I could see it all over her face. Shame. Layers upon layers of shame. I’d seen it before, but it had never twisted my heart like this. There was a kind of purity to her—not a childish purity, or even a sexual purity—but a sort of undefinable guilelessness which was tarnished by that shame. I wanted to polish it away.
“Tell you what,” I said, touching her hand. “Since we’re both here anyway, would you like to adjust the parameters?” Don’t do it, Nick, you’re blurring lines here… I hesitated as the thought crossed my mind.
“What do you mean?” She still looked frazzled. I touched her hand once more, gently, letting the sexual tension between us grow quietly. I didn’t want to walk away from her over a silly mix-up. Hell, I didn’t want to walk away from her at all. I’d never had so much fun with a client before…not outside of the bedroom, anyway. It was a very welcome change of pace.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a real date. What do you say we turn this into one? No pressure, no pay, just you and me, hanging out.” I heard the words come out of my mouth, and I was almost as surprised as she was; my internal conflict had sorted itself out, and I hadn’t even noticed. My inner accountant wasn’t too happy—I never dated for free. But my bank account was healthy and I was having fun, so why the hell not?
“But you do this for a living,” she whispered, unknowingly echoing my own thoughts.
She glanced around as if to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping. Completely adorable.
“So I’ll take a night off,” I said with a shrug. “It won’t kill me, I promise. I really would love to keep talking to you, Carmen. You’re smart, you’re funny, and let’s be honest, you’re gorgeous. If this were a rom-com, that’s all it would take to get me thinking like a respectable guy.”
She laughed at that, and I breathed a hidden sigh of relief.
“Gorgeous is a stretch, but I’ll accept it. Let me guess, the trope isn’t enough in real life?”
“Nah. Nothing respectable about me, darlin’. I’m just fun with a side of adventure, that’s all.”
She bit her lip, peering at me from beneath her lashes. “All right,” she said slowly. “It’s a date.”
The atmosphere over the table relaxed. Now that all the cards were on the table and I didn’t have a part to play, I started really looking at her. I generally didn’t evaluate my clients based on my own personal preferences—it would only get in the way. Now that she wasn’t a client, I found myself even more interested than I had anticipated.
“Have you always been a bartender?”
“I’ve always had a knack for mixing drinks, but no. I served in the Marines.”
“Oh! Wow. What made you decide to start…” She trailed off and blushed.
I laughed. “My dad always told me if you’re good at something, never do it for free.”
“Oh,” she said as her breath hitched, her big eyes widening. “A little cocksure, I see.”
“Well, if you’re gonna be sure of something…”
She paused for a moment before bursting into laughter, and I grinned. Something about her made me want to make her laugh; the way her eyes glittered, the carefree way she tossed her head back; but mostly the impression I had that she didn’t laugh nearly enough in her day-to-day life. I wasn’t looking to hang up my stirrups, mind you, but I had every intention of making this date a pleasurable memory for her. And, if I was honest, for me.
“So data entry? Sounds…fascinating.”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Oh yeah, utterly fascinating. This week especially. Nothing more thrilling than transferring an entire year of records, one by one…by hand.”
I winced. “That sounds terrible.”
She shrugged. “It’s repetitive, for sure, but I kind of like it that way. I can get into the zone, rock out to some music, and knock ten hours off the clock before I even notice. I mean, it’s not always like that. When I’m not clearing the backlog, I’m entering info in real time, but even then the days go by quickly because I have to keep on top of it.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
She paused, twirling the plastic skewer around in her empty glass. I caught the bartender’s eye and gestured for two refills.
“I actually kind of do,” she said. “And I guess it makes me a bit of a hypocrite.”
“How so?”
“Well…I don’t like to date men who aren’t actively ambitious—which, frankly, is why I haven’t dated in so long—but here I am, content to be stuck in a job with little to no upward trajectory. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it, but that’s actually part of the problem I think. I like typing, boring as that sounds. I like organizing information into spreadsheets. I like putting things in their places and finding the clear data in a cluster of chaos.”
&nbs
p; “Well if you enjoy it and it pays the bills, I don’t see the problem.”
“It’s just kind of a nowhere job, you know? I don’t even have career aspirations for myself beyond what I’m already doing, seems foolish to expect my dates to have them.”
“Not at all.” I shook my head definitively, then switched to a nod when the bartender delivered our drinks. “You’ve found a job that you’re happy with, you’re good at it, and it covers what you need it to cover. Why mess that up with arbitrary expectations?”
She thought about that for a moment, then smiled. “You’re right. I should cut myself some slack, it’s not like everybody has to be a rock star.”
“Is that what you wanted to be?”
“Oh gosh, no,” she said, laughing. “I’m not a huge fan of being the center of attention. I actually kind of hate it. I definitely prefer being in the background of something big; knowing that I worked on it and made it shine is just as rewarding to me whether anybody knows my name or not.”
“I can certainly relate to that,” I told her. The old injury in my shoulder twanged, reminding me just how much I understood her sentiment. I shook it off, refocusing on her pretty face.
“Music’s getting better,” I noticed out loud. “Wanna dance?”
“I’d love to.” She took my hand and led me to the dance floor.
Not generally one to be led, I was surprised to find myself enjoying the change of pace. The view was better, for one; and it also sent home the point that this date was different. Spontaneous. Real. I wondered for a moment how many times I could allow myself to take this woman out before I came dangerously close to getting tangled up in her—and not just her sheets.
Chapter 5
Nick
Carmen was a much more expressive dancer than I had anticipated. Her body flowed against mine like a river, sometimes raging, sometimes tentative. The way she looked at me made my blood run hot, and the way she bit her lip told me that she felt the same. Holding her close, feeling her gyrate against me, I knew the night was going to go my way.
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