Page 7 of Destined To Fall

I pull out of his embrace seconds before his lips can connect with mine.“Whoa.” My heart skyrockets again.“You got one freebie with the gropage earlier. Don’t push your luck, buddy.” I tease, more to dispel my unease than anything else. He almost… I…shit.

“Hey, you walked into my hands. They can’t be held accountable for that. I couldn’t even tell you if they’re real or not, it was over in a nanosecond.” His eyes widen as he laughs, but it’s pitchy, embarrassed.

“Oh, they’re very real. Do you need to check again?”

His face instantly glows with color.“Uh, I, uh, I believe you.”

I laugh as he stumbles and blushes further.“I’m messing with you.”

He shakes his head and puts an arm around my waist, once again steering me.“Come on. Let’s get that drink.”

“Are you normally so easily flustered?”Because I’m not…

“No.” He chuckles.“But it’s not every day that I feel up a beautiful woman. You’re quite the handful.” He winks.

“You have no idea,”I muse.

“I’m beginning to have some.” His face does that lighting-up thing again as he looks at me a little too long before he clears his throat.“So, um, what happened before?” His tenor is tentative as he removes his hand from my waist to hold the door to the cocktail bar open. The gesture makes me smile.

“Thank you.” I shake my head as I enter.“Honestly, I have no idea. Well, I have some. I’ve never liked revolving doors and always avoid them, but I don’t ever remember having such an adverse reaction to one. I think…”

“What are you doing? You were meant to be right beside me. Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?”

“I didn’t know how to get out. I just kept going around and around…”

“I have this vague memory of getting stuck in one when my mother dragged me on one of her countless shopping trips as a child.” I shrug.

“But you’re all right?”

“Yeah, fine. Nothing a stiff drink can’t cure.”

“The stiffer, the better?” he says with a raised brow.

“I’ve always thought so.” I pull up a stool in front of the bar and grab the bartender’s attention.“Scotch on the rocks, please.”

The bartender looks to my companion as he sits on the stool to my left, so close our thighs brush.

“Make that two.”

The bartender nods and walks off, leaving us alone.

“On the clock?” I bump legs with Mr. Handsie and ever so slightly shift my weight, putting a little more distance between us.“How devious.”

“If you can, I can.”

I almost scoff at that.“I’m off the clock.”

“You are?” I can see the questions forming behind his eyes, the wheels turning in his head, but I cut him off before he can speak.

“You have me at a disadvantage.”

“How do you figure?”

“I don’t know your name. I’m usually on a first-name basis with men who are so touchy-feely with me.”

“Sorry.” He raises his hands in surrender and then offers me one.“Jeremy.” I take his hand, and he shakes it gently but with a firm grip, unlike a lot of men who think less of women and give you the piss-poor version. Nothing worse than a weak man with a feeble handshake.“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance”—he twists my fingers in his, raising my hand up and bringing his lips to my knuckles, kissing them softly—”Vivienne,” he whispers across my skin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Oh, he’s got game.

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