Page 8 of Skating the Blue Line
From the pictures that I’ve seen online and the rumors that I’ve heard, Liam isn’t one to attend an event like this alone.
He always has someone at his side.
So seeing him here by himself nursing a drink has my interest piqued.
I have to network and he’s not currently talking to anyone so he might be a good person to start mingling with.
The man in question must be a mind reader or something because a few seconds after I decide to head over and talk to the guy, he looks up and meets my gaze.
I’ve never spoken to him. Never been anywhere within five feet of him so he doesn’t know who I am, but from the way he is looking at me, it’s as if he does.
His gaze is packed with something that I can’t pinpoint. It’s like curiosity and admiration all wrapped into one, but I’m not so sure. Whatever it is, though, it’s causing small flutters in my stomach.
Flutters that I sure as hell don’t get when I see his face on a giant billboard.
Feeling them now has to be because I know he’s famous and I’ve never made eye contact with someone famous. At least not someone who’s plastered all over town.
Besides, he has to look at everyone like that.
Right? Right, I’m not that special to warrant that kind of look.
Maybe it’s the dress.
It has to be the dress. Why else would Liam Crawford be looking at me like I’m his next meal.
Whatever it may be that is causing this serious stare down, I push it aside and make my way over to the man.
I wonder if he’s this intense up close as he is from across the room.
He must be because his gaze doesn’t waiver as I make my way over to him. We both watch each other, and unlike what I’ve experienced from most men tonight, his eyes stay on my face and don’t move down my body.
His eyes stay on my face, mine stay on his. I try to register as many details about him that I can but it’s a little difficult with the distance between. The only thing that I can pinpoint is the fact that he has tattoos covering both of his hands.
In all the pictures that I’ve seen of this man, I never noticed he had hand tattoos.
There is something definitely sexy about that, especially while he’s wearing a tuxedo.
Great, I just thought that the guy I’m about to approach was sexy. It’s not a lie but it’s definitely not something that I should be thinking about.
Feeling a bit awkward, I throw a small smile in his direction, expecting for him to just continue to stare at me but he doesn’t.
A closed lip smile forms on his face in return. He looks almost boyish wearing that smile instead of the professional hockey player with hand tattoos that he is.
I like it. Maybe a little more than I actually should.
Pushing down the feeling of wanting to see this guy smile some more, I continue my path toward him. I’m a few feet away though, when someone else comes into my line of sight and stops me in my tracks.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” I say to the older gentleman I bumped into, even though he walked in front of me.
“It’s alright,” he says with a head nod as if it was truly my fault he stepped in front of me. “You’re one of the ballet girls that was on stage earlier, aren’t you?”
I give the older man a smile. “I am.”
“I thought so. You were great.”
My smile grows slightly bigger. “Thank you. I’m glad that you liked the show.”
He gives me a curt nod. “Absolutely. I do have one question. Do you do private performances?”
