Page 7 of The Keeper

“That was fun,” Victoria said with a smile. “When’s the next one due?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I grumbled.

“I am. You’re welcome by the way. You know,” she paused, finishing her martini and signaling for another, “I thought this trip out here was going to be annoying. If the rest of it is anything like this, I might never leave.”

“And where would you go back to, if you did end up leaving?”

“Manhattan.”

“Ah, a city princess.” I grinned. “Looking to see how the other half lives out here in the country?”

“You don’t look like a country prince.”

“No? What do I look like?”

She drummed her nails on the bar and gave me a once over. “The leather jacket and jeans, and rings and tattoos don’t fool me. I’ve seen enough of your type in high school and college.” She twisted a strand of hair. “You went to boarding school. Probably went to Cambridge or Oxford. You definitely have a trendy apartment in London. You’re a certified heartbreaker with that hair and that mouth. And…” her voice trailed “…you play some type of sport. How did I do?”

“That obvious, huh?” I ran a hand through my hair.

A full smile curved her lips. “It’s the way you speak and carry yourself. I saw it the minute you told me you didn’t feel comfortable leaving me stranded on the side of the road. You have this refined, elegant thing with manners going for you. Yes, the bad boy vibe works but I have a feeling you’d be just as hot in a suit and tie.” She sipped her freshly delivered martini. “It’s sexy. All those manners and tattoos.”

She was still smiling at me. I wanted to kiss her smile until she pressed into me and begged for more. I moved closer to her, angling my body so there wasn’t too much space between us.

“So, Victoria is it?” Oh shit. I used that voice. The deeper, more clipped sounding one. The one I didn’t use anymore. The one that led to me saying things like kneel or undress.

A flirtatious spark lit up her eyes. “Depends on who’s asking.”

Careful, careful, careful. I cleared my throat. “The mildly hot mid-life crisis.”

“Aw, did I strike a nerve?”

“Not really. I mean, I wouldn’t exactly call thirty-six mid-life. My ego did take a hit though.”

“Would you rather I be gentle with your fragile ego?” she purred, tilting her head and exposing the smooth skin of her neck.

For. Fuck’s. Sake.

Nothing about me wanted to be gentle about anything with her. I inhaled slow, barely maintaining a grip on the thin line masquerading as my self-control. The visual of her wedged between my body and a wall with her dress hiked up and her legs wrapped around me made the growing ache and tightness in my pants tough to ignore.

“Not too many things about me are fragile.” Again with the tone. What is going on here?

Victoria picked up on my timbre this time. Her lips quirked into a little smile. Then she proceeded to size me up. Her eyes studied me. Devoured me. Penetrated well past the parts I kept hidden.

“Of course not,” she teased, her emerald eyes resting on my neck. When she leaned closer, I could smell faint traces of perfume. Not sweet or floral, but musky and warm. Her fingers traced the neckline of my t-shirt, pulling it down to expose part of my collarbone.

“Can I help you with something?” I inquired, fully intending to pull her into my arms at any second.

“Uh-uh, no.” Her eyes darkened when she pulled the shirt down a little more and found what she’d been looking for. “Nice tattoo.”

“I have more.”

She was close enough for me to kiss her. And from the look on her face, she was thinking the same thing. She glanced at my mouth before settling back on the stool.

“I bet you do. And no, I don’t want to see them right now. Maybe another time.”

Yep. I liked this one. Flirting with a woman hasn’t been this much fun in years.

A wry grin pulled at my lips.

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