Page 3 of One Hot Chase

When he finally reaches my table, our eyes meet and a jolt of electricity shoots through me. His slow, knowing smile shifts my pulse into overdrive and gives me a tingly feeling that spreads downward to settle between my thighs. I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and musk that makes my head spin. As I gaze into his deep blue eyes, I know this guy must be the one I've waited for.

He pushes one hand into his pocket, cocking his hip just enough to accentuate the bulge of his dick. "Darling, please tell me you're alone tonight."

A rush of warmth steals my breath away. That deep voice and his British accent could make me weak in the knees, if I weren't already sitting down. "Yes, I'm by myself. Would you care to join me?"

"I'd love nothing more."

He waits patiently while I adjust my position to make room for him on the bench. Then he settles onto the cushioned seat beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "You, my sweet, are the most delectable creature I've ever met. You're American, aren't you? I noticed your accent when you spoke."

"Yes, I'm American. And you are British."

"Ah, but I'm so much more than merely British." His mouth kinks into a sly smile, and he winks. "Think of me as your erotic tour guide, the only man who can make all your most scandalous fantasies come true tonight."

My inner muscles clench, as if in anticipation of the delights he promises to deliver. I know this guy might be full of it, but I don't give a damn as long as I come like a rocket blasting off into outer space.

A one-night stand? I've never done that before. But I've had enough of always playing by the rules and getting burned.

I gaze directly into the shimmering pools of his blue eyes. "Yes, please, I want that."

"You won't regret it, darling." He leans in closer, and the heady scent of his cologne turns me on even more. "First, a kiss."

He leans in closer until his breaths whisper over our lips, almost touching. Now I can see the faint creases around his blue eyes and the darker rims that surround them. I can't believe I'm actually doing this. When he lightly presses his lips to mine, my jaw slackens and a soft sigh whispers out of me as my lids drift closed.

Suddenly, the intoxicating scent of him fades away.

He clucks his tongue. "Oh, no, pet, that won't do."

My eyes fly open. "What?"

The guy wrinkles his nose, and his lip curls. "Did you have any garlic this evening?"

I pull my head back. "Excuse me?"

He straightens and puckers his lips. "If you mean to seduce someone, at least have the decency to brush your teeth first. Halitosis is not a turn-on."

For a few seconds, I'm confused by his statement. Bad breath? I made sure to brush my teeth before coming to this bar. But I won't bother explaining myself to this jerk. He hasn't earned the right to criticize my personal hygiene.

"I haven't eaten anything yet," I quickly inform him, as if it's any of his business. "You are the rudest man I've ever met."

The jerk studies me for a moment, as if he's trying to assess my intelligence or...something. "Never mind that, pet. I'll overlook your halitosis this time. But for the benefit of your future lovers, remember to use mouthwash too."

"You jackass. I do not have bad breath."

The obnoxious man scoots closer until our thighs brush against each other. "Don't worry, darling, I'll still fuck you."

"No, you will not. I despise you. Out of all the jerks I've ever met, you win the prize for being the most insufferable."

Maybe that isn't entirely true. No one could surpass my ex-husband for the title of Rat Fink of the Century.

The stranger sitting beside me hooks his finger under my chin and kisses my cheek so delicately that my pulse accelerates. I can't deny he smells deliciously good. As he skims his lips up to my jawline, my nipples begin to tingle. It must be the scent of his cologne making me feel this way. I'd bet that in everyday life he smells like garlic---and stinky sweat socks.

He murmurs into my ear, "Let's order a drink first."

"I already have a cocktail."

He glances at my glass, waving at it dismissively. "No, no, no, my sweet, that won't do. Rose-colored cocktails are for cocks who never get any tail. We need a real drink." He flags down a waiter, who quickly makes his way to our table. "Bring us a bottle of Grey Goose vodka."

"I apologize, sir, but we only serve cocktails."

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