Both the former and the latter are lies.
I don’t see the point in lying to a woman who is putting herself out there. She’s being straight with me by telling me she wants me. I’m being clear with her by explaining that she’s not what I’m looking for.
“What do you mean you’re not interested?” She arches her back to bring her ample tits into the conversation.
My eyes drop to them briefly because breasts …but I shift back to eye contact immediately. “I’m not interested in fucking you tonight.”
“Ohhhh,” she drags that one-syllable word out to within an inch of its life. “You’re busy tonight, so another night works better? I’m free tomorrow.”
She’s making this harder than it needs to be, and I’m not talking about my dick. It’s still taking it easy. Nothing about her is getting a rise out of me.
“I’ll never be interested.”
Her blue eyes widen in shock. “Why not?”
I imagine if she’d snap her fingers many men would come running, but I’m not one of them. “I know what I’m looking for, and you’re not it.”
“I could be it,” she says hopefully. “I’m not interested in more than one night.”
In my experience, if a woman tells you that, she’s lying. The tan line on her ring finger suggests she was interested in more than a one-night stand at some point in her life; some recent point in her life.
If I take her to bed, she’ll want more.
Again, my ego is not driving this train, but women love good sex. They dream about great sex, and when they get phenomenal sex, they latch on.
I’m a notch above phenomenal.
I pick and choose the women I sleep with very carefully. I vet them if you will, so when we part after we’ve both had our fun, they aren’t going to chase me down looking for more.
My work keeps me too busy for a social life, and my commitment choices keep a lasso wrapped around my heart.
I’m self-aware. I’m not flailing through life avoiding a relationship because I have issues that reach back to my childhood.
To put it simply, I’m happy living alone. I’m happier when I’m fucking different women.
There’s no need to delve deeper than that.
“When was your divorce finalized?” I question.
Her gaze drops to her hand. “What?”
“Your marriage ended when?”
“It’s not officially over.” She rolls her eyes. “We separated last week.”
Nodding, I scan the room. “Is this your first time out since you two called it quits?”
Her shoulders slump forward. “Yes, and it’s hard.”
“What’s your name?” I ask not because I want to know this woman, but because she needs to feel something from me. Outright rejection will put her on a path of destruction.
“Holly.” Her smile brightens. “What’s your name?”
“William.”
“I like that.” She flutters her extra-long eyelashes. “What are you looking for, Will?”
For starters, I’m looking to be called William, not Will .
I let it slide because Holly and I are about to part ways after I give her some sage advice. “Take some time to figure out what you want, Holly. Don’t jump into bed with a random because you’re trying to prove that you’re still able to turn heads. You’re beautiful. You’re also vulnerable right now, so give it a minute to sink in that you’re single.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “My ex told me I’d never find another man.”
“He’s a lying bastard,” I retort. “You’re going to have them lining up to take you out.”
Her brows perk. “You think?”
“I know.” I push away from the bar. “Give it some time and take care of yourself.”
Her eyes scan my face. “I would have slept with you.”
I know.
“It wasn’t meant to be.” I button my tuxedo jacket. “If you excuse me, there’s someone I need to speak with.”
With one last glance over my six-foot frame, Holly sighs. “She’s one lucky lady.”
I can’t agree with that, but that’s not for me to judge. I’m here to do a job, and it’s time I got to work.
Coming soon!
Preview of Plucked
Sneak Preview of PLUCKED, a sexy new standalone romance!
Roman Hawthorne is tall, devastatingly handsome, and has a jawline that is so sharp that it cut could glass. He’s my dream guy on paper but let’s just say, Roman is arrogant with a capital A.
When I meet him in a bar on a random Tuesday, I think I’ll never see him again.
But I do.
Every time I show up at that bar, Roman is there with his perfectly styled hair, his dark brown eyes, and his smile that could charm any woman.
What starts as a flirtation turns into more.
Roman is exactly what I need.
He brings me daisies.
He gifts me with kisses.
And, we do things in my bedroom that make even me blush.
I feel like I’m living a real-life fairytale until I catch Roman in another bar on a Wednesday doing something I never thought he would.
Chapter 1
Bianca
“The world could do with fewer men.” I shove my hand into a plastic bowl filled with peanuts only for it to topple over. “Screw you.”
“Screw me?” A man’s voice growls next to me.
It growls. The type of deep and raw sound that enters your ear, but then it crawls down your body lighting up every nerve ending.
I turn because who wouldn’t want to see what this guy looks like?
The face outdoes the voice tenfold.
He has dark brown hair that’s too long on top to be corporate but stylish enough on the sides to be contemporary.
I look into brown eyes that are a shade lighter than a great espresso.
His nose looks like it was gifted to him courtesy of a Greek God, and his jawline is so sharp that other men must question their masculinity when they’re in his presence.
I may be exaggerating, but I’ve known a guy or two who would hide in a hole after seeing the man sitting on the barstool next to me.
The gray suit he’s wearing is next level, as is the silk tie that has thin lines of lilac thread crisscrossing through it.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I toss back because I’m not single.
What a waste this encounter is going to be.
“I thought I heard an invitation.” He pops a dark brow. He evens that out with a smirk.
Full pink lips and a tongue that I get a hint of when he licks his lower lip only add to his whatever-the-hell-it-is . It trumps charisma by miles, and attractive isn’t even in the ballpark.
This man could charge money for women to sit and stare at him.
I raise a finger when the bartender approaches because, truth be told, this is not my first time in this questionable establishment.
I have to pick and choose where I show my face in this town.
Manhattan is vast, but my stepfather’s reach surpasses that.
I glance at the hands of the man sitting next to me. I tell myself it’s because I want to see what he’s holding. (A glass half-filled with top-shelf bourbon, from the looks of it.) But, size does matter when it comes to doughnuts and dicks.
If you’re going to indulge, satisfaction should be guaranteed.
The suit sitting next to me has large hands.
They are strikingly larger than my current boyfriend’s. Kieran’s hands are average. They do the job, or they used to.
Some say you can’t judge the size of a cock by the owner’s hands. I say you can. My research has proven it.
A glass with a little too much vodka and not enough cranberry juice is set just to the left of me. “Thanks, Rolly.”
Rolly knows what I like down to the two lime wedges he’s propped on the glass’s rim.
“I’ll add it to your tab, Miss Marks.”
; Apparently, Rolly has never seen an episode of Dateline. Identifying information in a bar is a no-no. With a discreet shake of my head, I roll my eyes even though I doubt that Rolly will see it.
I’d estimate that the prescription for his eyeglasses dates back to the nineties. He tosses a kiss in my general direction thrown from his palm because Rolly is a kind soul. He makes a mean drink too and strong. It’s very strong.
“Go ahead and put it on my tab.” The man next to me leans closer, and I get my first scent of him. I can’t tell if it’s cologne or just his skin, but it makes me think of his lips in places other than the rim of his glass.
There’s no harm in letting him buy me a drink, so I smile. Pushing my long brown hair over my shoulder, I look at him. “Thank you.”
He stares into my blue eyes as if I’m going to share my deepest secret with him. “You’re welcome, Miss Marks.”
Thanks a hell of a lot, Rolly.
“I’m Roman Hawthorne.” He extends a hand, and I get a glimpse of an obscenely expensive gold watch peeking out from beneath the arm of his suit jacket.
My stepdad would be jealous, which makes me think this man might be even richer than the Marks brood is.
I take his hand for a brief shake. “Miss Marks.”
He lets out a chuckle that vibrates through him. “Tit-for-tat, Miss Marks.”
My gaze drops to the front of the royal blue blouse I’m wearing. I’m all buttoned up. I’d make a comment about my breasts, but there is no need. Mr. Hawthorne is getting his fill of what they look like, although he can’t see the pretty lace bra they’re bundled up in.
“A first name,” he says as though it’s a question.
I sip on the drink even though I want to down it in one large gulp. I haven’t forgotten why I’m here, although the five o-clock shadow on this guy makes me almost forget I have a boyfriend.
The last time Kieran went down on me, he had a beard.
That was weeks ago.
Lately, it’s been one minute of foreplay in the form of a swipe of his finger over my clit, three minutes of thrusting before Kieran comes, and ten minutes with my vibrator after I get back to my place.
“I have one,” I bounce back.
He laughs, and time in all its infinite wisdom stops. Even Rolly looks in our direction to see where the glorious sound is coming from.
I take another drink.
“Let’s start again,” he says through a lingering chuckle. “You said something about the world needing fewer men. What was that about?”
“That was about one John Smith.”
That is my boss’s name, but Roman can’t track me down based on that. That’s assuming that he’d want to track me down. For all I know, he’s in here drowning his sorrows because his girlfriend left him.
I laugh out loud at that.
What woman in her right mind would leave him?
Roman’s brows pinch together. “Was that a joke?”
“No,” I sigh. “My boss passed me over for a promotion today.”
“Bastard,” Roman snaps the word off his tongue.
I’d call John worse, and I have, but I did that on the trek here in the sweltering New York City heat.
I’m all cursed out, for now.
“He gave the job to one of his cronies.” I edge my manicured, pink-tipped nail around the rim of my glass. “If that’s what you call an old friend who has much less experience than me.”
“I call it favoritism.” Roman finishes his drink. “John Smith made a mistake.”
For someone who has no idea what I do for a living, I admire his commitment to taking my side.
“I think it’s time to look for a new job,” I say half-heartedly.
I’ve been working at Packton Properties for three years. The senior project manager’s job should have been mine. Once John’s BFF was put on staff, my chance for any advancement went up in smoke. You’d think that eighty-year-old men would be ready to hang up their hats and hit the retirement path, but not John and Jim.
“If you have a background in law, I’d consider offering you a position with my firm.”
That has to be the smoothest humble brag I’ve ever heard. I don’t take the bait because my only experience with the law was a warning for crossing against a light when I was seventeen. I’ve stayed on the straight and narrow for the last ten years.
I take another sip of my drink, waiting for Roman, the gorgeous, but not modest attorney, to ask for my number. My ego hopes he will, even though I can’t share it because of Kieran.
I am many things, but I’m not a cheater.
He takes a look at his enviable watch. “It’s been an experience, Miss Marks. I hope the employment situation sorts itself out.”
“I’ll sort it out.” I catch his eye one last time. “Thank you again for the drink, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Roman.” He taps his fingers on the top of the bar. “It’s Roman to you.”
He stands. All six-feet-two-inches of him are breathtaking.
I’ll never see him again after today, so I take one last, very long look at him.
“Until we meet again,” he says, buttoning his suit jacket. “Good day, Miss Marks.”
Taking a deep breath, I turn back to my drink and whisper, “You made it a very good day, Mr. Hawthorne.”
Coming soon!
THANK YOU
Thank you for purchasing and downloading my book. I can’t even begin to put to words what it means to me. If you enjoyed it, please remember to write a review for it. Let me know your thoughts! I want to keep my readers happy.
For more information on new series and standalones, please visit my website, www.deborahbladon.com . There are book trailers and other goodies to check out.
If you want to chat with me personally, please LIKE my page on Facebook. I love connecting with all of my readers because without you, none of this would be possible. www.facebook.com/authordeborahbladon
Thank you, for everything.
JOIN DEBORAH’S MAILING LIST
To receive exclusive updates from Deborah Bladon, please sign up to be on her personal mailing list! Be the first to see cover reveals and win exclusive giveaways reserved for newsletter subscribers only!
Subscribers are the first to receive information on release dates, so if you want to be the first to buy Deborah’s new books, sign up now!
Click here to subscribe now!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.
She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.
Catch Page 21