Page 95 of Tangled Roses

I’m not sure whether to be upset, angry or excited and I choose the latter because this is fun.

“I’m not a whore.” I shrug and sip my drink, staring deeply into his velvet eyes.

“My mistake.” He shrugs and grips the tumbler of whiskey and cocks his brow.

“Forgive me. I’m only used to whores coming onto me in bars. Not attractive women who should know better.”

“Is that right?” I shrug. “Why is it okay for men to do the same but not women? Answer me that.”

I’m putting this all down to the alcohol running freely through my veins and whatever happens next will be down to that. I sense it. I know it’s coming, and he leans closer and whispers, “You make a valid point. So, what’s your plan?”

I swear every part of me is fired up as I sense a wild night to remember and gaze up at him through my lashes and whisper, “I am celebrating my freedom. This was my plan.”

“Drinking alone in a bar?”

“Don’t knock it. This is my last night of freedom and the only night I’ll allow myself to let go and I intend on making the most of it. Do you want to help with that, or should I ask my friend behind the bar to oblige?”

He sets down his glass and frowns at his phone, that is lit like a Christmas tree, and then says with a cheeky smirk, “One night of freedom sounds good. Do you mind if I join you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

James

This is unexpected. A rare treat I’d be a fool to pass up on. One for the road is turning into something far more interesting and as I guide the woman out of the bar, I cast an appreciative eye on her ass. She is stunning. A beautiful woman with a wicked spirit. I don’t meet many like her and I couldn’t resist the invitation.

As we step outside, the fresh night air almost brings me to my senses and I wonder if it’s done the same for her.

If she’s unsteady or slurs her words, I’m putting her in a cab but she turns and her eyes sparkle in the night sky as she whispers, “Let’s take a walk.”

“You want to walk in those?”

I nod toward her high heels and she chuckles softly. “I can walk in heels. I can do a lot of things other women find difficult.”

“I bet you can.”

I laugh softly as she wraps a well-manicured hand around my arm and we head off, strolling through the street as if we are lovers, not strangers.

“May I ask you a favor?”

“Of course.”

I prepare myself for the catch, but all she says is, “No names. Let’s be mysterious strangers tonight. It adds to the excitement.”

“If you insist. Where are we heading?”

“My hotel.” She grins impishly, and it makes me smile.

“I’m booked in there tonight because my apartment isn’t ready. Apparently, the last tenant made a mess of it and they haven’t had time to repair the damage.”

“That’s tough. So, mysterious lady, where are you from?”

She turns and places her finger against my lips and whispers, “Strangers, remember? No strings, no recriminations, just fun.”

“Suits me.”

For some reason, my earlier surly mood has evaporated in a glass of whiskey and as we reach the Connaught Rooms, she stops and nods toward the revolving doors. “Home sweet home.”

“I’m impressed.” I glance at the swanky hotel that costs a month’s salary per night, and she shrugs.

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