Page 10 of Remy

“You’ve never been in love,” I say, desperate to make an accurate claim—to find something to knock this deity off his pedestal and send him toppling to mere mortal status.

“True.” He inclines his head. “But I’m creeping closer by the second.”

I bark a laugh and quickly clap a hand over my mouth to obliterate the sound. “Shit. That was loud.”

“It was.” He leans closer, shielding me further from prying eyes as he discreetly glances over his shoulder to the bar. “Nobody is paying us attention. Your cover remains intact.”

Dear Lord, he smells incredible. If flawless confidence had a scent the intoxicating elixir sinking into my lungs would be it.

I want to nuzzle my face against him. To lick the deliciousness right off his skin.

God, I’m turning into Ivy.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you never told me who you’re hiding from,” he murmurs.

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed you never told me your name,” I counter.

Dark eyes return to mine. “Has this become a negotiation?”

“Does it need to be?”

His smile softens, another glimpse of sorrow making my chest ache. “You don’t want to know me, Ollie.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m not a man that women like you want to get acquainted with.”

Aww. What a cute yet ridiculously ill-advised assumption.

“You’re wrong, kind sir.” All thought of my dad vanishes. Poof. Gone. “I want to know everything. Most of all how you would ruin me.”

I attempt to play it cool, marking the end of my declaration with a casual sip of champagne.

I don’t know who this woman is, the one who volleys outrageously flirtatious lines with a straight face. But I like her. She’s far more fun than the hermit with flunking social skills.

He slides one arm along the top of the booth behind my shoulders, his other hand coming to rest on my knee.

I tense at the sizzling contact, my skin erupting in blissful goose bumps.

He leans close, his scotch-sweetened breath warm against my lips. “Tell me what man has claimed so much of your attention and maybe I’ll give you a taste of what it’s like to be ruined.”

I swallow. Lick my lips. Perish.

It takes what little grip I have on my composure to speak without groaning. “It’s my dad.”

“All this time I’ve envied your old man?”

All this time?

I swear I only just met this guy, but it feels like I know him. That I could trust him. Maybe even hand over my beating heart neatly wrapped in a nice little bow.

It’s weird, but after living and breathing death for years, I feel alive.

The switch is euphoric.

His heated palms slides up my inner thigh, scorching my skin. “Tell me, Ollie, why is a gorgeous woman spending her Friday night spying on her father?”

“We had plans.” My breathing turns ragged, his touch driving me wild, his gaze holding me captive. “At least I thought we did. Then he told me he had a business meeting. He wasn’t himself and I thought…” I place my flute back on the table.

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