Page 14 of Made For You
The suit would be out-of-place in my hometown, but not in this lounge. The bar was filled with suit-clad men.
His nose had a slight bump, and his jawline was sharp, which only accentuated the domineering vibe he gave off. I noticed the man on the stool next to him scooted closer to the woman he was with, as if to keep her from this man’s gravitational pull.
There was a slight scruff on his face, which was in stark contrast to the put-together nature of his appearance. Itreminded me of the days my father would spend on the farm. He’d shave before dawn, and by dusk, he’d grow a scratchy shadow on his chin.
I wondered how this stranger’s stubble would feel between my legs.
I chirped in alarm at where my thoughts had veered and turned back on my stool to face forward. With a shaking hand, I reached for my martini and lifted it to my lips, only to spill a little on the packet as I set it back on the bar.
“Shit,” I mumbled as I reached for the napkins in the holder in front of the newcomer. As I reached across him, I whispered an apology.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, everything is fine. I just spilled some of my drink.” I dabbed at the paper with the napkin, groaning when the ink was smeared.
“I hope that wasn’t anything important.”
“Only the main reason I was here today. No biggie.”
I kept dabbing at the packet, hoping with each pass the words would magically reappear, but it was futile. The spill ruined the entire section I had been hoping to read. If I’d been alone in my room, I would have popped a bottle of pinot and cried into the glass.
I was so lost in the damage that I didn’t hear him place his order, but Fiona set a small glass filled with amber liquid in front of him before hurrying off.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, and I truly believed him.
I turned to tell him it was fine and not his fault, but when our eyes locked, I forgot exactly what he was apologizing for. His eyes glimmered from the lights in the bar, and they reminded meof the night sky—dark and mysterious with only the light of the moon to illuminate the surroundings. They mesmerized me.
He cocked his head subtly, as if he were one of my students trying to figure out how to pronounce the next word in a sentence.
“Everything okay over here?” Fiona asked, suddenly reappearing once again, breaking whatever spell this man had put me under, and I was thankful for the disturbance. “How’s the cake?”
“It’s delicious, just like you said it would be. I had to borrow a few napkins for a spill I made.”
“No problem. It happens all the time. Those martini glasses are the worst. Let me get you a new one.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I think I used up my voucher for tonight as it is. I should probably head back to my room.”
“Another drink for her, if she’d like, please. You can put it on my tab.”
I’d only had the two martinis, and they really were delicious. I knew I was coherent enough to have another and make it back to my room, but I felt I should decline the offer. Expectations tended to come along with drinks bought by strangers, and I didn’t want him to anticipate something from me in return.
“Why?” I asked him. There was no point in beating around the bush, and I’d be able to tell if he was lying.
“Because I’ve had a shitty couple of days.” He chuckled. “Honestly? I’ve had a really shitty couple of years. And doing a kindness for someone who just ruined the whole reason she’s here might make me feel a little better.”
I nodded because I certainly understood having a rough go of it for a while. Heck, one of the appeals of being here in Miami was that I got to escape Ashfield for a short time. Plus, itdidmakemefeel better to do nice things for others as well.
“And also,” he began as he leaned in, “it’s always nice to have a drink and conversation with a beautiful woman.”
It was clear when my cheeks flamed that he enjoyed my response. I didn’t know how anyone could keep from blushing in his presence. He may have been throwing me a line, but I was an inquisitive little fish ensnared by his hook.
“Okay. One more. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Holding out my hand, I tried to mask the nervous tremble. “I’m Rory, by the way.”
His large hand reached for mine and wrapped around it with a strength I’d never experienced, but it wasn’t physical. It was a sensual connection between us I’d only ever read about in romance novels.
