Page 2 of My Little Secret

I stared at my almost-empty drink. These mint juleps must have been laced with courage. I should order another one.

Just as I leaned forward to snag the bartender’s attention again, I sensed a warmth at my side. I turned slowly, heat prickling through me. And then I gasped.

Hawk was here.

He leaned against the counter, my whiskey in his hand, grinning at me like a Gap model in the height of summer. At my side, he felt hulking, impossibly beefy, pure angles and muscle swells. His black T-shirt tapered into a slight V-neck, allowing wiry dark chest hair to poke out.

I reached for his arm, my mouth agape.

“Hey there.” He eyed my hand on his arm then looked back up at me. “Do we know each other?”

“No.” I gulped, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe this. Hawk was in front of my face. His skin was oddly smooth, but maybe that was just because he was carved out of pure sex appeal. “We don’t.”

“Seems like you’d like to know me.” He eased onto a stool, and my hand slid away. The air around me felt barren and chilly. The man was a grounding rod.

“Um, yes.” Come on, brain, work. “I’ve been a big fan of yours.” Shit, should you admit that you know him? Oh well, run with it. “You’re, uh…one of my favorite fighters.”

His grin blossomed into an ear-to-ear smile. Cologne wafted toward me, something that made me imagine him spritzing it over a freshly-washed body. Oh my god, he must look amazing naked.

“What’s your name?” He toyed with the tumbler, but it looked full still.

“Sadie.” Don’t you dare say your last name, or this whole thing will end right now. “And you’re Hawk.”

He nodded, his chocolate gaze searing through me. His eyes were so pretty up close, a multi-faceted landscape, like freshly mulled spices. And despite the fact that I’d watched him beat men to a bloody pulp on TV, he had something gentle about him. Like he’d be prone to tucking me into bed and kissing me on the forehead.

Hawk eyed his tumbler. “Thanks for the drink. I can’t remember the last time a girl bought me a drink.”

“I’m not a girl,” I blurted, heat immediately flooding my cheeks. “I’m a woman.”

His gaze raked over me, top to bottom, the corner of his mouth lifting up. Why was I correcting him? I needed to act sultry, alluring, not like I’d rap his knuckles for using punctuation incorrectly.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” His voice came out low, maybe even reverent. “All woman here.”

The seduction in his voice was unmistakable. My thighs clenched involuntarily, and I straightened in my seat, draining the rest of my drink.

“You’re a lot nicer than you come off on television,” I said. Alarm bells were ringing in my head. I was normally blunt, but who knew what would fly out of my mouth with the dangerous combination of alcohol and Hawk. “You always seem like you could snap a guy’s neck, but really you’re pretty sweet.”

That knee-buckling grin came out again. “You think I’m sweet?”

“Well, so far, yeah.” I looked for the bartender. Time for that next drink. “I mean, I’m pretty good at reading people. I can tell you aren’t gonna snap my neck.”

“I would never,” he said, his gaze scorching across my face. “And I’ve only broken one man’s neck. It was an accident.”

I nodded, watching him swirl the whiskey in the tumbler. “You gonna drink that?”

He tilted his head back and forth, like he was considering it. “Maybe a little.”

A fighter two weeks before a match shouldn’t drink alcohol. I felt like I was tempting him. A pleasant moment of silence settled between us. He turned the tumbler back and forth under his fingers. “You from around here?”

A lightning bolt seared through me—indecision at its finest. Lie or give some vague version of the truth? My breath caught in my throat as I considered my options. “Yeah, uh…sorta like that. I’m here for a while.”

“Work?”

“Yep.” That, at least, wasn’t a lie. I was on my brother’s payroll. “Sort of like an extended business trip.”

“Mmm.” Something about his appreciative hum set my skin on fire. “Same here. We’ve got good timing.”

My skin flamed. His sultry words ricocheted through me. Though maybe he wasn’t trying to be seductive. Maybe every single thing he uttered was sexy just because I’d been fantasizing about this man for eons.

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