Page 17 of After The Storm

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her looking at him and smiled. Not normally someone who needed or wanted to talk to strangers in a bar, Roman felt the desire to strike up a conversation with her. Maybe it would take his mind off Kate upstairs naked and half covered in bubbles.

“Were you in town for Mardi Gras?” she asked, leaning over toward him so her plunging V-neck dress showed nearly all her breasts and causing the beads to tap against the bar.

He preferred when a woman left a little to the imagination, to be honest, though he had to admit that she had a great body to show off. The breasts may have been bought and paid for, but he didn’t really care. It’s not like they would be spending the rest of their lives together.

Turning toward her, he smiled. “No. I’m in town for work.”

A man trying to get her into his bed would have bothered to ask what she was doing in town, but Roman didn’t bother. All he wanted he could get right there in that bar.

“What kind of work do you do?” the blonde asked before taking a sip of her drink.

“Security. I protect people,” he answered, okay with that half-truth he’d just told her.

Technically, that’s what he did. One of the most important parts of working for Project Artemis was not talking about it. Sort of like Fight Club but without all testosterone flying around all over the place.

Roman’s mind went back to the estate full of men and Xavier and Gideon watching sports twenty-four-seven in the game room. Okay, maybe it was like Fight Club with the testosterone but without all the bashing in of people’s heads.

Lost in thought about back home, he didn’t hear the blonde ask him a question about who he protected and didn’t notice her move so she could sit next to him. When he stopped daydreaming, he saw his casual conversation had moved to a different level with her, if the way she was looking at him and licking her lips was any indication.

Some women you had no problem figuring out what they wanted. This one practically wore a neon sign around her neck. She wanted to be fucked.

“What’s your name?” she asked in a voice that had almost a purring quality to it.

He imagined being talked to like that on a regular basis could sound nice. Even better when she was naked and underneath him.

“Roman,” he said before drinking a mouthful of whisky. “Yours?”

“Cheri,” she answered with a smile as she fingered one of the sets of beads hanging between her breasts.

For a moment, he wondered if Cheri was more than just a good looking woman sitting at a bar at seven o’clock in the morning. Any big city had its fair share of prostitutes, although she didn’t look like she had enough miles on her to be a hooker.

Curious to see if he was correct, he asked, “Were you in New Orleans for Mardi Gras, Cheri?”

She nodded and giggled as she lifted the beads up as evidence. “Yeah. My friends and I come every year from D.C. for the party. They all decided to turn in early, but I wasn’t tired, so I came down here instead of sitting around the hotel room. We’re here for another two days, so I’ll have time to sleep then.”

“What do you do for a living?” he asked, truly curious now that he’d decided she wasn’t trying to sell herself to him.

Not for money anyway.

Cheri smiled and lifted her glass to take another sip of her gin and tonic, never taking her eyes off him. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Roman couldn’t help but be intrigued. More than once, he’d wanted to say that in response to the question of what he did for a living. Who was this Cheri woman?

He leaned over until his mouth brushed against her long hair and whispered, “Try me.”

She licked her lips and answered, “I work for the Government Accounting Office in D.C. A very boring desk job that makes trips like this one a must so I don’t go out of my mind.”

“I can’t believe someone who looks like you do works a boring desk job,” he said, intentionally flattering her. He honestly hadn’t pegged her for a pencil pusher, so it wasn’t a complete lie.

It’s just that he didn’t care as much as he made it seem.

Cheri took another sip of her drink and put the glass down on the bar. When she lowered her arm, she grazed his chest before letting her hand land gently on his thigh. He had to give her credit. She didn’t leave any doubt as to what she wanted.

And if he didn’t have a job to do that involved protecting a much different and far more argumentative woman, he may have taken Cheri up on her unspoken but definitely clear offer. It had been a long time since he’d been with anyone, and parts of him liked where she wanted to go with this little thing they had going between them there in the bar.

Especially the parts between his legs, which had already decided the whole idea was a go and enthusiastically waited for the rest of him to join in.

But his brain and heart weren’t in it. He’d always been a man who had to care about someone enough to stick around after sleeping with them, which explained why he rarely had a woman in his bed. He just couldn’t promise he’d ever be there after they finished making love.

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