Page 4 of End Game

His mouth curved higher, eyes crinkling along their outer edges. One dimple flashed below his cheek, and I couldn’t help but wonder how often it made an appearance. “What’s your name?”

I angled my head as I considered whether to appease him with an answer or tell him to go ahead and fuck right on off. Normally I had no problem shoving away unwanted attention with a sharp bite . . . but the normal reflex to do so hadn’t yet risen. My defense mechanisms stood down.

If anything, I was more perplexed by my lack of bristling. Something about this man, about the smile on his face that appeared to be reflecting sincere curiosity, didn’t trip up any of my guards. So I decided to go with it, to be nice. “Mara,” I said back.

He nodded, repeating my name in his velvet-like voice: “Mara.” And then another hum vibrated from his chest. Hearing my name that way stirred something awake within me, something that’d been slumbering with such finality that I never thought I’d feel it again: want, in its rawest form. He didn’t avert his gaze as he lifted the brown bag in his hands, the paper crunching from the pressure of his long fingers. “Do you like champagne, Mara?”

A smile rose on my own face, and I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, clearing my throat. The truth was that I wasn’t much of a drinker—being around it so much at work didn’t make it very appealing. But . . . there was a thrumming in my chest as my blood roared to life. “Depends . . .” I trailed off.

His eyes twinkled. “On?”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “What’s the occasion?” His brows cinched together, and he looked at me with confusion. “You just bought Rudy’s top-shelf bottle,” I mused. “Seventeen whole dollars of bubbly.” My eyes traced the length of his suit. “And you’re dressed like that in the middle of the night. There must be an occasion.”

A deep chuckle rumbled out from him, instantly lighting up my nerve endings. My heart pounded hard in my chest in response. He finally broke our eye contact as his eyes dropped to his feet for a moment before raising back to mine. “There’s a celebration to be had, and I find it rather serendipitous to find you here in my pursuit to have it. I’d love it if you’d join me.”

He was already counting me in, as if it were inevitable. It was confident . . . almost cocky of him.

And I was thrilled.

“Hm,” I hummed, smiling so wide an ache pulsed in my cheeks. A handful of heartbeats passed between us. I looked over his shoulder at Rudy, who was standing behind the counter, watching our exchange. “Rudy?”

“Yes, dear?” Though my own defense mechanisms were . . . nowhere to be found, the look on Rudy’s face screamed that he was unsure about this turn of events, that he already didn’t like what I was about to say. And I was thankful for it—I really was. But, there was a shift happening beneath my skin, a vibration that I hadn’t felt in so damn long. I knew I would regret not taking the chance to follow it through, even if it broke almost all of my rules.

Hell, I might even get an orgasm out of it.

So, I gave him my best I’ve got this nod. “Can I have a raincheck on that sandwich?”

He looked at me for a few seconds before saying, “Sure thing, Mara. No problem at all.”

My eyes jumped back to Mystery Man who was practically glowing with amusement. I stood up from my chair, the metal legs scraping against the linoleum floor with effort, and then maneuvered myself back out until I was standing right in front of him. “Well, then?” I teased.

Though he hid it well behind his smile, I heard him suck in a breath. His eyes dropped to my bare legs for a moment, their skin raised from the cool air in the shop, and when they met mine again there was the smallest trace of hunger that zipped down my spine.

And still . . . I didn’t bristle.

I was no stranger to the art of a one-night stand. I’d had plenty with complete strangers over the years—but all of them had been with women. Charlea started out that way before we eventually hooked up again and made it a regular thing. The last new man to ever get inside my pants was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And, until now, I’d been fairly certain he ruined me for all other men—but not in a sexy way. More like a Broken and scared for my life kind of way.

I’d known since high school that I “swung both ways,” as my friends back then liked to call it. But after my last relationship went to absolute hell in a handbasket, I figured my time with men had come to an end. At least for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t that I’d shut the idea down with totality—but I hadn’t had much of a reason to open that door again, either.

Until tonight.

Because this man was looking at me like I could be his late-night meal. And I wanted to serve it to him on a silver platter. Wanted to enjoy the spoils that a man could provide in the bedroom.

He hugged the brown bag into his chest and held the elbow of his free arm out for me to take, grinning when I obliged. As he tucked me close to his body, I could smell his rich, woodsy scent and wondered what he did for a living, why he was dressed so nicely after midnight, and what news could have possibly prompted this errand to Rudy’s for champagne.

As he pushed through the door and led me into the brisk night air, I planted my feet into the ground and stopped walking. “Wait,” I said as he turned around to face me. His blue eyes were as bright and bold as a shooting star in the jet-black sky. “You never told me your name.”

He grinned out the side of his mouth—an expression that was boyish and unwound. The sight of it made my toes curl. “Leo,” he said, gently pulling me forward by the arm still laced into his. “My name is Leo.”

“So, where are you taking me, Leo?” I asked lightly as we continued across the downtown street.

“You’ll see,” was all he responded with.

I laughed, still waiting for fear or discomfort to flare within me, but there was nothing but a crisp buzzing. “Are you always this mysterious?”

His grin widened. “I think you might be the first person to ever call me that, so . . . no.” He chuckled. It was the first time I heard the hint of an accent—something northeastern. Definitely not native to Colorado. “I’ve also never brought a beautiful woman home after only minutes of knowing her, either.”

“Home?” I asked, feeling a flush in my neck. “You’re taking me home?”

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