Page 21 of Heartless Sinner

“Then I’m glad your first taste was mine.” His voice drops again and it makes me think he’s implying something else, something that makes me blush again.

“Me too.”

He quickly pours himself some wine and when he looks back at me, that spark returns to his eyes. “Let’s go sit over there.” He lifts his chin toward the sofa.

“Sure.”

We walk over to the sofa area and sit next to each other. As we do, I can’t help but notice how much bigger he seems sitting next to me. His shoulders are so wide he nearly fills up his half of the sofa.

He raises his glass and cocks his head, keeping his gaze trained on me. “Here’s to this meeting of ours.”

“Hear, hear,” I agree, clinking my glass with his when he holds it out to me.

We drink in unison, pausing our conversation to enjoy our drinks.

Nerves fill me when he sets his glass down and stares at me as if he has a million things he wants to ask me.

I’m sure he’ll have questions. Agreeing to get a drink with someone you don’t know opens the floor for the get-to-know-you part of the meeting. That’s where we are now.

The problem is he can’t know me. Noteverythingabout me—why I shouldn’t be here and that by this time tomorrow, I’ll be a classified thief.

The word—thief—wraps around my insides like thick rope, pulling, tightening, and twisting.

Thinking fast, I mask the inner turmoil brewing within me with a smile, hoping Mr. Dreamy can’t see straight through me. It would be another cruel joke if he could see the devious plans in my mind and alerted the police. Or worse—Micah Delarosa.

“How long are you staying in New York?” he asks, leaning close enough that I catch the undertones of his cologne. It’s a blend of musk, sandalwood, and something darker and alluring that reminds me of burning cedar on a winter night.

“Just until tomorrow night.”

“That’s a shame, bellezza. Are you here for business or pleasure?”

Be creative, Scarlett. I think of the best thing to tell him and settle on a half lie and a half truth. “Business. I’m an actress. My agent/best friend lives here. I’m hoping to find a job soon.”Perfect.And he looks intrigued. That kind of answer can keep us talking for a while without specifics.

“Never met an actress before.” He runs his thumb over his lower lip and gives me a thoughtful stare.

“People say there’s a first time for everything.”

“They were right.” Dimples flash again as he grins. “What kind of job are you hoping to get?”

If I were asked that question a year or so ago, I would have answered with movies, but right now, I’d take anything. Anything that would get my foot back through the door. “Movies are always great, but I like TV shows, too. Or plays. I’m versatile.”

“Sounds that way.”

“What about you? I don’t believe you’re just a bartender.” I allow myself the pleasure of looking him over. Scanning him from the top of his stylish head to the leather Santonis covering his feet.

I know this is a classy hotel. Even so, none of the bartenders I know could afford shoes like that.

An easy grin slides across his face. He picks up his wine again and takes a bigger sip. “Bartending is something I do sometimes on the side.”

“A side hustle.”

“Something like that. Let’s just say I’m working my way up in the world.”

“Me too. Or at least I’m trying to. It’s a struggle sometimes. The acting world changes more and more every year.”

“Sounds like you’ve been in that world for a while. You can’t be older than twenty-one.”

I give him credit for the clever, subtle way he’s asking my age. And for the compliment that he thinks I’m twenty-one, even if it was part and parcel of the ruse.

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