After a few minutes, Lucas hasn’t returned, so I head toward the restroom to make sure he’s not crying, passed out, or bumping a line of coke. (We see it all here.) I run into him in the corridor outside the restrooms. The beer-slick hair and eau de IPA should really detract from his hotness. It does not.
I lead with, “Sorry?”
“Sounds a little too like a question.”
Still with the drama. “Uh, you set me up. If I had a nickel for every time I heard ‘Do you do private tastings?’ I wouldn’t be working here.”
There’s that lift at the corner of his mouth. I swat him with the bar towel I’m carrying. “That’s what you wanted me to think!”
“No. Okay, maybe. I was having a little fun. Should have realized a woman like you would use the weapons at your disposal.”
“Somehow I don’t think I could ever match you for weaponry.” I narrow my eyes when really all I want to do is keep them wide and soak in his beauty. Life is so unfair sometimes. “You a lawyer like Max?”
“Not like Max. Better than Max.”
It’s not bragging. We muse on this for a moment until I break the silence.
“So you really wanted to throw some business my way?”
“I do, or rather I did before you sprang for the beer-drop option. Aubrey is a lawyer friend of mine who sometimes organizes after-work networking events for my ovary-sporting colleagues. They’re always doing wine tastings, so I thought this might be a fun change for them.”
It wouldn’t hurt and might get some new blood for the Whiskey, Women, and Song events I’m trying to get off the ground.
“That’s kind of you. If you still want to pass on my card…” I lower the zip of my catsuit, extract a card from my bra, and hand it to him.
“Smooth.” His thumb rubs across the card, appearing to absorb the warmth of the skin it was recently next to. He places it in the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pats it once, twice. I shiver at the thought of this sensual connection between us.
“Here, let me give you mine.” His hand brushes the waistband of his pants, then a flick of his finger and thumb unhooks the fastener.
Unhooks. The. Fastener.
Wait, what? He’s not…No, no, no. This cannot be happening.
He inches his zipper down slowly, slowly.
Here? No, no, no, not here.
Finally, I squeal, “That’s where you keep your business cards?”
He laughs, big and bold. “Nah, just a little payback.”
My mouth drops open. He wouldn’t have stopped unless…Would he have? I have no idea. The unpredictability of it—of him—sparks through me, lighting me up. While my life has seen its fair share of events from out of left field, as a rule I crave stability in my day-to-day. I have people relying on me to be their rock, so I can’t afford to…indulge.
But damn and hell, I wouldn’t mind indulging in Lucas Wright.
“Not going to make this easy for you, Trinity.”
“You’re not?” Visions of Lucas not making it easy—in fact, making it very hard—dance through my sex-starved brain.
“Did you really think I’d ask you out?” He waves around. “In a bar? Just like that?” The cliché appears to offend him.
I swallow, once again blindsided. He’s not interested. At all.
I really am losing my touch.
I laugh it off. “Believe me, I’ve heard everything.”
“I figured as much, which is why I’m not going to beg for a date. At least, not yet. You’re not sure about me, Trinity. You think I’m too young or flighty or ridiculous. You think I’m as smooth as slime and a bit of a lad. Well, whatever you think, I have undoubtedly heard, a million times over. Want to know what I think?”
“I suspect you’re going to tell me.”
“I think…that it would be good for us to wait.”
I barely restrain from screaming at him to just do me. I’m pretty confused at the pinging signals not hitting their targets.
He inclines his head, his gaze magnetized to mine. My heart is knocking around my chest like a pinball. Another pat on his breast pocket, like my card is a talisman, and my pulse spikes thinking of it next to his heart. Silly, really.
But his next move isn’t silly. It’s dangerous. One of those long fingers traces its tip along my jaw. His eyes widen, his nostrils flare.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Not sure yet.”
Kiss me.
Do I say it? I have a habit of talking to myself, speaking my innermost thoughts aloud. His lips have not latched on to mine so I’m guessing I didn’t. But something’s happening here. He’s kissing me with his eyes, seducing me with his intensity, with every sharp inhale of breath I see him almost struggling to take.
His hand anchors to my jaw and sneaks around to my nape. My blood runs hot, and I’m hyperaware of everything: his full lips. The eyebrow scar. The wicked cobalt blues. The supermodel cheekbones. A dash of russet in his eleven o’clock shadow.
The fact that we have yet to kiss. Gah!
Yet I am being ravaged. My breasts feel heavy, the spot between my thighs hot and slick. There’s power in the anticipation, though I’m not sure who holds it.
“Trinity?”
“Yes?” I’m basking in the glow of gimme-the-good-stuff.
“Still think we should wait.” The glow dims and flash-freezes. Before I can protest he adds, “Because once we start this, I’ll be going all in.”
“Once we start what?” I can hardly speak the words. I am furious.
“The ride of our lives, Trinity.”
He gives me another smile that leaves me in a daze. I’ve no idea what’s happening here but I feel itchy and very, very dissatisfied with my Lucas-free life.
“See you around, Whiskey Woman.”
And then he’s gone.
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
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Katie's Highlander Page 27