Page 3 of Heartbreaker
His eyes narrow slightly before a soft chuckle rises in his throat. He looks ahead one final time before he smiles back at me. “I don’t know. You seem like the type of girl who can handle her own if needed.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Oh, youlookedmiserable, and Iwasmiserable listening to my friends bitch about work…So, I decided, why not make us both less miserable? Besides, that poor bastard clearly wasn’t getting the message.”
You think?
“You’re not from around here, are you?” I ask.
A toothy grin spreads across his face. “How can you tell?”
“You don’t exactly look like a college student, but you also don’t give Alexandria vibes. So, I know you’re not from here.”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m here for work.”
“So, is this your shtick?” I ask. My hand comes to rest over his arm, still on the bar. “Go to a local bar wherever you’re in town for work, find the most miserable-looking girl, and say, ‘Her! She’s the one.’”
“Actually, you’d be the first. I don’t usually pick up women in bars.”
That seems hard to believe. This man is the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and he doesn’t pick women up in bars? Every eye in here has turned his way at least twice since we started talking—men and women alike.
“Yet, here you are, doing just that.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” he asks with a smirk that stirs the butterflies in my stomach. However, it must be a different breed of butterfly because their presence doesn’t make me nervous. He doesn’t make me nervous. He makes me feel…safe. Comfortable. Sexy. Confident. So many words run through my mind, each one true.
“You tell me.” I haven’t felt this bold when talking to a guy in years. What is happening? “I’m Savvy,” I say, extending my hand in the small space between us.
“John.” He takes my hand and presses it to the back of his lips before his eyes glance over my left shoulder. “Your friends are back.”
When I do the same, I see Cassandra lead Kingsley through the door, her eyes frantically sweeping across the room until finally landing on me. Us. Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops. She forces Kingsley to look in my direction before I shoot them a wink, turning back to John. “So it would seem.”
John glances over his shoulder where his own friends are too busy heckling the guy sitting at the far end of the table to notice he’s gone—well, except for one of them. The stone face of the man at this end of the table unmistakably stares straight at us, watching with a level of uncertainty. He’s darker than John, but I can’t tell whether the deep gold color of his skin is natural or a spray tan. The bronzed tone almost looks too perfect to be natural. Grey eyes flicker from John to me, and the chill that accompanies it reminds me of Cathy, the assistant coach of the Wildcats. Cold, calculating, overly observant.
“Don’t mind him.” John chuckles, turning away from his friend. “He’s just mad because I left him to deal with those fools.”
I play with the opening of his Henley before my hand trails up around his neck, and his hands find my waist again. I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a spark of something new when he pulls me flush against him.
He leans down to my right ear and whispers, “You want to get out of here?”
I’m not sure Cassandra meant this when she said I needed to get Conner out of my system, but who am I to deny myself a night of pleasure with a guy as good-looking as this one?
“Lead the way,” I say.
John slaps a hundred-dollar bill on the bar and places my untouched beer on top of it. He takes my hand to lead me past the table my friends have been watching from and out the door.
He’s staying at the Crimson Valley Resort? What in the hell does this guy do? “The Resort,” as locals like to call it, is one of the most luxurious places within at least a hundred miles, sitting equidistant between the Valley and Alexandria. This is for people who can afford multiple hundred dollars a night, or people who want to pretend they can. The Resort is where you’d find someone like me working behind the front desk to make a little extra money. It isn’t The Plaza in New York, but it seems close.
I’m surprised by how easily the conversation with John has flowed since we left the bar. We’ve managed to discuss our likes and dislikes, the number of siblings we have, why I was at Ash & Thorn in the first place, and whether we like pineapple on pizza—the only correct answer here is yes, no matter what he says—but the one thing we’ve seemed to avoid mentioning is work. Not that I minded. It’s nice, considering the next four months my life will revolve around school and the ’Cats.
“Your job puts you up in the Resort? Are you the CEO?” I ask when John offers his hand to help me step out of the SUV. His only response is a laugh, and I can’t hold back my own smile. “Is this one of those if you tell me you’d have to kill me things?”
“Sure.” He laughs again. “Let’s go with that.” John thanks the valet, handing him the keys and a twenty, and rests his hand on my lower back to guide me through the revolving door.
I cannot believe I’m doing this right now. I’ve never done something like this. What in the hell am I doing? This isn’t me…Then again, wasn’t that the point? To do something out of the norm and forget about the shitstorm I’ve created?
John leads me through the expansive lobby to the left back corner labeled “South Tower,” and before he can hit the elevator call button, the doors slide open. A man not much shorter than John stands on the other side, wearing a suit and tie. Interesting choice of apparel for…I glance at my watch and realize it’s almost midnight. Where in hell is he going at midnight dressed like that? I probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it, nor paid him any attention, except for the look in his eye and the nod he gives the man beside me, like they know each other.
“Brooks,” the man says. Brooks? I thought his name was John? You know what…None of my business.
