Page 12 of Dirty Daria
He turns on his stool, mimicking my pose, right down to the crossing of his legs. I glare at him, narrowing my eyes. He chuckles and plants both feet on the floor, spreading his legs, owning the space he occupies.
He’s not the guy I’m looking for, I know this purely from instinct. Therefore, I have no time to waste on him. Even though I like the looks of him. I angle my body in the opposite direction and scan the yard trying to find a different vantage point from which to perch.
“You can glare all you want, beautiful. I’m still going to sit here and talk to you.”
“Excuse me?” I turn to look at him, more surprised that he’s still trying to talk to me than at the compliment he added in. He’s a handsome man, I’ll give him that. Dark eyes that sparkle, short brown hair, slight scruff along his strong chin to give him a roguish appearance, the kind that makes women swoon. Other women, not me.
In comparison, I know that I have a look that attracts men, it’s made up of part confidence and part genetics. I’m not classically beautiful like my mother or Katya, my nose is too slim, my breasts too small, and my legs too long, but my look is unique. Big eyes, fair skin, and full lips. The only thing I’m lacking are large breasts. But I make up for that by wearing extremely low-cut dresses that highlight my décolletage to an advantage. Coupled with fierce stilettos and as much leg as is legally decent showing, I command attention. I’m accustomed to it.
But this guy isn’t someone I need it from tonight.
“Me. You. We’re going to talk,” he answers.
“Not if I walk away.”
“You won’t.”
“What makes you so sure?” I remove my elbows from the bar and sit up straight, slowly sliding off my barstool to stand at my full height. An imposing one for most men, especially those at this party.
“Because I’m pretty sure I’m the only guy here you can look up to.” He winks, then stands, topping me by at least three inches.
I start at his feet and slowly work my gaze up his body. The tailored suit does nothing to disguise the muscles beneath. Large thighs, imposing chest, broad shoulders. He makes me feel almost petite standing next to him.
“You have a point,” I tell him.
He turns back to the bar and palms each of our glasses in one hand, then takes mine in the other and leads me to a small table off to the side of the bar. I’m curious as to why I let him.
He pulls out the chair for me on the far side that still allows a view of the entire party but is a bit more discreet. He drags the other chair close to mine and sits.
I raise my brows at him in question.
“What? We were both watching the party, we might as well do it from here and get to know one another at the same time.”
It doesn’t bode well for me that he not only was able to sneak up on me at the bar, but he knows I’ve been watching the party too.
“What makes you think I was watching the party?” I ask.
“Your accent is lovely. Russia?”
“Ukraine,” I lie. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“You’re good, beautiful. But I’m better. I can watch you watch the party and still watch the party myself.”
“That’s a lot of watching.”
He shrugs. “Tell me, who are you looking for? Ex-boyfriend? New boyfriend? Current boyfriend who might be cheating?”
“Why do you assume it’s about a man? Rather, a boyfriend?”
“Isn’t it always?”
This time I shrug. Not sure yet what I want him to believe. “How about you? Ex-girlfriend? New girlfriend? Current girlfriend who might be cheating?” I purposefully use his words.
“Pfft. No.” He leans back in his chair and spreads his legs comfortably, forcing our thighs to touch. I can feel his heat even through his pants. Making me shiver.
“Cold?” he asks.
Before I can answer he has his sport coat draped around my shoulders. The inside still warm from his body heat. His scent triggering every pheromone in my body.
