by Zante, Lily
She stole another look at the bartender who was still at the other end of the bar, serving most people. Her gaze lingered over his tattooed arms, and she admired his defined biceps as he lifted his arms to sweep the hair away from his eyes.
The more she looked at him, the more she found herself unable to look away.
“What are you doing sitting here all by yourself?”
She turned around to see Briony, Savannah’s friend from work, standing beside her. “Taking some time out,” she replied, cheering up in an instant. She had come to know Briony and her girlfriend Max well, and enjoyed their company.
“From what?” Briony asked, then excused herself while she placed an order for her cocktails.
“From people asking me when I’m going to settle down.”
“Ouch.” Briony made a sympathetic face. “You’ll need another drink, then. What can I get you?”
Kay held up her half-empty cocktail glass. “I’m fine for now, thanks.” Besides, she would rather ask Luke for another drink, herself. No point in wasting an opportunity like that.
“Who’s hassling you?” Briony asked, as she waited for her drink.
“My mother.”
“Ugh.” A drawn out sigh told her that Briony suffered the same. “You too?”
“Is your mom here?” Kay asked, lifting her cocktail glass to her lips.
“God, no!” Briony looked horrified, as the server placed two drinks in front of her. “What’s your mom more worried about?” she asked, slipping her fingers around the stems of the cocktail glasses. “Your vagina, or your ovaries?”
Kay almost spat out her drink in shock. She wiped her lips with a napkin. “Huh?”
“Is she worried that your ovaries might be getting old and shriveled, or that you’re allergic to men?”
“I think it’s both, although I’m not a … a … a…”
“Lesbian, I think, is the word you’re looking for,” offered Briony, helpfully.
Kay faked a smile, feeling foolish, and embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t.” Briony cracked a smile. “Come and join us later if you want.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Another text message appeared, from Dean again:
When are you back? Maybe we should hook up?
She scowled, wishing she hadn’t run into him at that bar a few weeks ago. The time before that, when she had agreed to meet him because he’d wanted to talk, it had ended up being a booty call. Of course, it hadn’t helped that she was useless at resisting the affections of a good-looking, well-built man.
And of course, she hated being alone. It didn’t help now that Savannah was paired up. Her singleness could not have been more starkly contrasted.
And sometimes, she needed comfort. Comfort interspersed with some tender, and some downright dirty moments, too.
It felt good to be wanted.
Savannah had warned her then but she had ignored her. Her problem was that she never learned, and she wished she could. If only she could exercise restraint.
Maybe Savannah had a point when she had advised her not to come across and look so desperate. ‘You’ll earn more respect if you play hard to get.’
She looked up, and caught the bartender’s eye. Her lips automatically flashed him a slow, provocative smile, and pushed her cell phone away. Maybe she would take Briony up on her offer, and go and sit with her and her girlfriend; at least she wouldn’t be in any danger of being tempted by Dean. A culmination of pink champagne and too many cocktails was making her feel light-headed and the last thing she wanted to do was sext Dean something stupid while slightly tipsy.
She lifted her head, sensing that she was being watched, and found herself staring directly into the bartender’s sparkling eyes.
“Trouble?” he asked.
Adrenaline flooded her brain, and she momentarily forgot how to think, or speak. Freaking hell, this man with his broad, broad shoulders, now held her transfixed with his pointed stare. Her heart did a funny jig inside her chest.
“Something wrong?” he asked, when she didn’t reply.
She swallowed, and managed to compose herself. “A nuisance, more like.”
“A nuisance?”
“An ex-boyfriend.”
“An ex-boyfriend?” His question, the way he asked it, suddenly made her feel warm and tingly.
He was making small-talk, and bartenders were good at that kind of stuff, but it didn’t hurt to have someone to listen to her, least of all, someone who looked like he did. How had she failed to notice him before? “He’s bugging me.”
“He’s here?”
“No, he’s back home.”
“And he’s bugging you all the way from there?”
“He wants to know how the wedding went.”
The bartender snorted. “I didn’t think it was such a big deal for a guy to want to know that kind of stuff. My sister’s curious about it, which is to be expected. Girls are nosier.”
“Curious, I think, is the word you’re looking for.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth,” he replied, “I’d go with nosey.” He was making her heart fill up with his soft, low voice. Because even though he was saying normal words, his eyes…freaking hell, those glittering blue eyes, they were looking and making her skin prickle with excitement.
Unable to resist, she answered, “I wouldn’t dream of putting words in your mouth.” Something else, maybe. Freaking hell. Either he’d doubled up on the alcohol shot in the cocktail he’d made for her, or he was flirting like crazy. For a moment his cool expression seemed to slip, and she didn’t miss the jolt of surprise in his features.
She smiled, enjoying the power she had in that moment. Savoring the effect her words had on him. He coughed, than ran his hand through his hair, moving the longish hair away from his face. It settled back in place, for a while but sooner or later was going to fall over his face again, and he’s lift his arms and do that whole movement all over again. And it would give her another shot of his glorious flexed bicep. “If you knew my sister, you’d go with nosey.”
She smiled at his quick recovery. Usually, she’d have a good retort, some flirty-dirty words to volley back at him, but he hadn’t reciprocated. He hadn’t flirted back. Maybe this one was going to take some extra work, after all, he wasn’t Xavier. The thought of taking up the challenge excited her. “Your sister’s already called you for an update?” she asked, deciding to take a teeny weeny bit of Savannah’s advice and holding back on the innuendo. Although this probably wasn’t what Savannah had in mind when she’d advised her to not come across so desperate, but as far as Kay was concerned, this was a good alternative.
“She’s super-nosey, wanted pictures and all. I didn’t take any, on account of Tobias’s NDA. The reason she’s interested is because she’d getting married soon,” he explained.
“She is? Awww, that’s nice. When?”
“In the new year, sometime.”
“Awesome.” She finished her cocktail, felt her head slightly spinning, though she wasn’t sure if it was the cocktail, or the effect of having this man’s total attention, and basking in it. “Is she older or—”
“How comes your ex is calling you?”
She smiled again, a fluttery feeling dancing in her chest at the presumption that he might be interested. It didn’t matter that he’d cut off her question.
“Why’s he still calling me?” she asked, provocatively, laying a hand on her chest and watching his gaze lower. Because he knows I’ll come running. That was the obvious answer. Instead she said, “He’s obviously not over me.”
“I can see that. Someone like you probably wouldn’t be so easy to get over.”
A guy wouldn’t say anything like that if he wasn’t interested. She widened her smile and held it there, waiting for him to mirror it and confirm his interest. “You’re saying all the right things,” she told him when the smile didn’t materialize. She leaned forwards sli
ghtly, forcing her breathing to calm down.
This man was interested, but he seemed to be fighting it. He was holding back, and given that he wasn’t coupled, unless he’d lied to her earlier, or that he was gay—something which her gut told her he wasn’t, there was no reason for him to hold back.
He was also holy freaking gorgeous.
How the hell had she not noticed him before? Piercing blue eyes, broad shoulders, and tattoos on muscled arms. He filled out his black t-shirt well. She would go to bed with happy thoughts tonight, recalling it.
“It’s my job.”
“Oh.” His answer yanked her back to reality. “I mean,” he placed his forearms down on the bar top again. “You get to know people.” This time his head was once again level with hers. With his face so near, she forgot to breathe. He stared at her, his cool, unhurried gaze, raking over her, playing with her. Flirting and teasing, yet without words.
Freaking hell.
“I bet you get to know a lot of people,” she murmured, forgetting how to breathe just then. She was vaguely conscious that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that her pebbled nipples might give her excitement away.
“Maybe.” He cupped his chin as if he was thinking it over. “It becomes second nature, being able to read people, and get a vibe from them.”
She nodded, only because the fog in her brain prevented her from saying anything. He gave her the once over and she instinctively sat up taller, straightening her posture and thrusting her chest out just enough to pull his attention there. His penetrating gaze set off a chain reaction—and the beating of her heart competed with the throbbing between her legs for the most beats per minute.
“What’s your read on me?” she asked, “Seeing that you’ve been eyeing me up all night.” Her boldness pushed Savannah’s sensible advice into the gutter.
He covered his mouth with his finger, and she couldn’t work out if he was laughing at her, or with her. But at least he hadn’t denied that he’d been eyeing her up.
“You sure you can take it?” he asked, those cool blue eyes burning into her.
“I can take anything you give me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he replied. His response, with its subtle challenge, sent shivers scampering along her chest and stomach. She let out a breathless, “Try me.”
She wished he would.
“You’re not a wallflower, I would say.”
“I shouldn’t tell you this but my nickname used to be Good-Time-Kay.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“I like to party,” she said, dismissing any other notions he might have. He had no idea how stressful her job was, and therefore would never understand her need to have fun when she was out. “Go on,” she said, eager to hear more. “What else?”
“You dress to …impress.”
“To impress?” she grinned. “You’re being polite. You should say what you mean. I can take it.”
“For attention, then,” he replied, accepting her challenge, yet his gaze didn’t lower, as she had hoped. Their gazes locked for a long, sexy, unspoken moment that stretched out into the night. It was a million times sexier than him looking her up and down.
“Maybe,” she conceded.
“And tonight, you seem sad.” He lifted his head, looked over her shoulder, towards the dance floor, then back at her again. “Because you’re alone, and you’re happy for Savannah, but seeing it all in your face is too much.”
“You’re freaking good,” she breathed, unaccustomed to a man who she had barely known, being able to see right through her.
“And this ex is hassling you because he knows he can have you at his beck and call.”
“Uh, well,” she murmured, taken aback because she hadn’t yet met a man who could see past her outer exterior, and this man she barely knew, seemed to reach inside and know all there was to know about her. The sadness over Xavier's treatment of her, and her irritation over her mother's comments flew right out of her head.
Her eyes swept over his face, and over his god-like body, and she knew she had to have him. Every part of her was reacting to him and he had done nothing more than look at her. Desire engulfed her, and her mind raced with thoughts of what it would be like to be in his bed.
He stood up, folding his arms, breaking that magic moment in which the two of them had been bound. When he abruptly moved away, yanking that intimately shared moment, she felt as if her oxygen supply had been cut.
She suddenly missed that closeness. “You might be right,” she managed to say.
“Is he a recent ex?” he asked, his voice louder, direct, returning to a more casual tone.
Was Dean a recent ex? The question wasn’t an easy one to answer. Although they’d broken up before she’d gone to Hong Kong, since her return, twice he’d asked her to meet for drink and to talk about things, and twice she’d ended up in his bed. “Sort of,” she replied, vaguely. She weighed up pouring her heart out to him, versus being coy and trying to win him over through the art of subtle flirtation. Though she didn’t do subtle the way Savannah probably did.
Still, the bartender didn’t need to know all the details.
“Sort of?” he asked, giving her a disbelieving grin.
“He dumped me over a year ago.”
“Over a year ago, and he’s still trying to worm his way back to you.” The bartender looked at her, and she flinched, wondering what he was thinking. “A girl like you shouldn’t have to go running back to a guy who dumped you,” he said, making her smile.
He understood her, and right now she needed to be with someone who understood her. She sat up, taking notice. Liking the cornflower blue of his eyes, even in the lamp-lit golden light, those eyes were hard not to be drawn into. Like a spell, a hazy, lazy, hypnotic spell, he was reeling her in, and she was sure he had no idea of the effect he was having on her.
“I’m not so lucky when it comes to meeting good men,” she told him, allowing herself to open up.
“Maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong place.”
“Maybe.”
“Another cocktail?”
Was he asking her because he was interested? Her heart rate sped up and she decided that Max and Briony could wait. She would stay here for a while longer.
“Same again, if you don’t mind.” She was about to say something flirty, and dirty, but decided against it and watched as he rustled up another cocktail. She examined him slowly, her eyes raking over his body. “Where did you learn these skills?”
He snorted. “Making cocktails is hardly rocket science.”
“But, still,” she pressed. “Is there a place you all go to learn? Like a school for mixologists?”
“Please do not ever call me that.”
“You don’t like being called a mixologist?” she asked, amused.
“No.”
“It sounds more upscale than bartender.”
“What do you do for a living?”
She fiddled around with the cocktail umbrella. “I’m a secretary.” Most guys could handle that. If she told them she was in investment banker, they probably wouldn’t believe her, and then they’d worry she earned more than them. She didn’t want to risk scaring this guy off.
“A secretary,” he said, slowly, almost as if he didn’t believe her.
“Did you not have me down for a secretary?” she asked, curious, and afraid that his x-ray intuition might reveal her lie.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. That’s an expensive bag, high-end, as is that dress. And you obviously take good care of yourself. A PA to some big guy?”
She swallowed, and wondered if she’d got it wrong about him not being gay, since he had obviously noticed every detail about her wardrobe, grooming and accessories. But he had a sister, and maybe that was why he seemed more switched on.
Intrigued, she propped her elbow on the counter, and looked up at him through her lashes. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Kay,” she said, “Savannah’s cousi
n.”
He snorted with laughter. “I know. It’s my business to know who everyone is the moment they set foot on the island.”
She raised an eyebrow. He was chatting her up. He was interested.
“It’s my job to know who most of the guests are. Four days, one island. It’s easy enough to do.”
Her hopes deflated as quickly as they’d risen.
“And, you are?”
“Luke.”
“So, Luke,” she said, sitting back. This time, she caught his gaze traveling south, and hoped he enjoyed the view, but quick as a flash his gaze moved back up to her face again. “How is it that Tobias Stone got you over here for his wedding?”
“Contacts,” he said, sliding his sexy forearms across the top and clasping his hands together.
“Contacts.” She nodded. “Tobias Stone is the guy to know.”
“He is.” He swept his hands through his hair, making her heart leap. His hair was long and floppy, long enough that when he ran his hands through it, the locks fell forward, and all she could do was focus on it. It was copper brown with streaks of auburn and for a fleeting moment she imagined her fingers raking through it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Luke.”
Her cell phone pinged again, and out of habit, she checked to see who it was.
Call me.
It was Dean again. She knew what this flurry of texts meant. He was probably feeling extra horny tonight, and she had no time for him. After all, he was back in New York, and the bartender, well, he was here.
“The ex, again?” Luke asked.
She nodded, and deleted the message, and then an idea flashed into her head.
“Would you mind taking a selfie with me?” she asked, “Just so that he can get the message.”
A smile curved his lips slightly. “Sure.”
She turned around on the stool with her back to him, and he leaned down over her shoulder as she held her cell phone at arm’s length, and they positioned themselves.
His hot breath against her cheek was intoxicating. Freaking hell, this man was something else. She turned her face to the side, almost knocking their noses together. “Ready?” she asked, feeling drunk on his closeness.