Page 18 of Luck of the Draw

He laughed as he nudged her forward, andGod. She wasadorable. And sexy. And what a fantastic turn for the better his day had taken. He had no idea how long she would be in town, but while she was, he would take everything he could get. A distraction. An escape.

After all, consequences were looming. And if this was going to be Brennan’s last hurrah in the City that Care Forgot, he was going to make it a good one.

5

FRENCH QUARTER, NEW ORLEANS

In Skye’s mind, it was definitely not ideal that Brennan was a local. But that was the only thing about him that was less than ideal. He was sexy as hell—which was never a bad thing. He was nice—which was always a plus. Most importantly of all, he was highly receptive. Although, his niceness, plus the fact that he was a veteran who apparently had some kind of disturbing past, made her feel a twinge of guilt over having to use him like this.

But it wasn’t like she was going to screw him, other than actually screwing him—haha.

Skye smirked to herself while shoveling another forkful of truly incredible Redfish Pontchartrain into her mouth because,hey! The best thing anyone could do when faced with horrific, life-threatening circumstances was to try to find something funny about the situation.

Right?

Right.

And Skye was on her way out of the horrific, life-threatening circumstances, and this was basically an impromptu date. She hadn’t been on a date in a while. Technically, she had never been on arealdate, so that was one more funny-slash-good thing.

“You must have been hungry,” Brennan said, setting his fork down and swirling his pinot noir.

She chewed and swallowed, then dabbed her lips in a dainty manner. “I was so busy today that all I had was the little bag of peanuts from the plane.”

“Oh yeah?” He sipped his wine. “Am I allowed to know what you were busy with, or do you not know me well enough yet to tell me that?”

She smiled. “Let’s just say before I got here…” Not a lie because it was technically before she got to therestaurant. “...I had a lot of sh— uh…stuff to take care of before leaving in preparation for starting my new…um.” She covered her mouth and coughed. “My new job.”

“Ah.” Brennan set the glass down and slid his plate away from him, then rested one wrist on the table’s edge. “So it is a new job. I figured that’s probably what it was.”

Skye swirled the last bite of fish in the sauce and gestured at him with it. “And so you are trying to figure out all my dirty secrets.”

He chuckled as she popped the bite in her mouth, smiling the same warm yet intrigued smile that had graced his handsome, aristocratic features the moment he first looked at her. “Of course I am. You refuse to tell me, so naturally the thing I want more than anything right now is to figure them out.”

She rested her elbows on the table, hands folded under her chin, and offered a coquettish half-smile. “Is that honestly the thing you want more thananythingright now?”

Brennan peered at her through deep, inquisitive pools of mocha. He was clearly reading between the lines, but still clearly receptive. He picked up his glass and took another sip. “Maybe not more than anything. However, mentioning what I really want more than anything right now would be very bad table manners.”

Skye covered her mouth and forced herself to offer another idiot-like giggle. Men loved that. Men were so fucking predictable. Brennan was obviously no different. His lips quirked into a heated smile, albeit a sexy one, and at least this man was total eye-candy. That always made it easier.

“You’re making me blush,” she said in an expertly coy tone.

“Good.” Brennan swallowed the last sip of his wine and set the glass down. “You’re adorable when you blush.”

“I’ve known you all of two hours, and you’re talking like this is our tenth date or something.”

He nonchalantly hitched his shoulders. “In those two hours you’ve blushed several times, and every time, it is completely adorable.”

Yup. Men were predictable. Beadorable. Be ditzy. Fawn over them. Act like they give you the vapors. Stroke their big egos, and definitely don’t act like you have any semblance of a brain because that would intimidate them.

“You’re sweet,” she said.

Definitely call themsweet.

Do all of the above, and they become putty in your hands. Give them what they want, and they will give you what you need.

Those were the rules, and in this life, playing by the rules was the only way you win.

Skye set down her fork and skimmed her gaze over the restaurant. Rich jewel tones flooded the entire space. Funky metal wall art of fish and waves and mermaids hung in various spots, and luxurious fabrics draped around the tall windows. A jazz duo crooned softly in one corner. This place was the perfect mix of classic and contemporary. Like hundreds of restaurants in the city, Skye had passed it a million times while traipsing through the Quarter but knew she’d never come inside. Only women who went on dates came to places like this, and, again, Skye had never been on a real date.

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