She thought she was being cute, and she meant it in jest, but all it did was ignite a fire so deep in my soul all the water in the world won’t put it out.
The new patron takes the stool two spots down from me. We’re separated by one seat. I resist the urge to huff or give them a single look. Eight other spots and this person has to sit close to me.
“Here we are.” I glance at the bartender’s nametag, which reads Matt.
I take the champagne glass by the stem like I’ve seen classy women do in movies and lift it in his direction. Today I’m fancy. Today I’m free.
“Thank you, Matt.” The glass rim presses against my bottom lip.
“Manhattan.” The customer two spots down has a voice smooth as velvet and laced with palpable virility. It commands my attention, dissolving my previous disinterest in two seconds flat.
My God.
My breath catches in my throat. I tilt the flute and take a small mouthful, letting the tiny bubbles dance on my tongue before quickly swallowing them. The last thing I want to do is choke them down like some amateur.
The champagne is sweet, but not too sweet. The crispness is refreshing in a way I’m sure I’d appreciate much more if I weren’t so distracted by the suit sitting mere feet away from me. He’s sucked all the air from the room, I’m sure of it, because now I can’t seem to catch my breath.
“If you’re going to stare, at least introduce yourself.” He speaks to me though he looks straight ahead.
My jaw slacks, my brain racking itself to come up with the appropriate comeback that doesn’t make me sound like a love-struck teenager noticing boys for the first time. I noticed boys a long time ago; I’d just never noticed anyone like him before.
His elbows rest lightly against the bar, his hands gripping the shiny glass Matt just placed in front of him. Not a single spec of fuzz or stray hair clings to the impeccable fabric of his navy suit. Lush, dark hair covers his head, and his jaw hollows just below his cheekbone.
They certainly don’t make them like him back in Whispering Hills.
“She doesn’t speak English?” he asks Matt.
“Bellamy Miller.” I don’t extend my hand; instead it rests firmly at the base of my champagne glass. I hold my head up high. If he’s going to sit there like some arrogant businessman, two can play that game. “And you would be…?”
The curiously handsome and intensely haughty stranger turns my way, clearing his throat and tensing his jaw as his unyielding stare sharpens in my direction. The hollows of his cheekbones release and flex not once but twice. “Dane Townsend.”
I expect him to smile or nod, and I wait in vain for his expression to soften.
Instead, he huffs like I’m some nobody who’s suddenly invaded his personal space.
Well, excuse me.
I uncross and re-cross my legs the opposite way, turning back toward the T.V. Some soccer game is playing, and I pretend it’s the most engrossing thing I’ve ever seen. Anything is better than having a staring contest with the world’s most arrogant stranger.
“I wasn’t done speaking to you.” His words slice through the tight space between us. His need to control and dominate this conversation is insulting.
“Pardon me?”
“I introduced myself, and then you said nothing and turned away.” He lifts his drink to his full mouth, his eyes burning into mine as he pulls in a sip. “It’s rude.”
My jaw falls, and I jerk my attention away. Any quick fantasies I may have had about this man a few minutes ago have dissipated.
I stare at my drink, squinting one eye and estimating that there might be a couple more ounces left to finish. A sigh escapes my lips when I promptly remember I bought the whole bottle. I’m certainly no champagne connoisseur, but this stuff doesn’t taste cheap.
I’m going to be here a while.
I can’t just skit out the door dragging my dignity behind me like I did at RJM Corporation.
“My apologies.” I don’t mean it. I demolish the rest of my drink like I’m an old pro and nod at Matt before turning to Dane again. I know how to play this game. I know how to tell people what they want to hear to bandage an awkward situation. It’s practically my way of life at home, and it works like a charm with my father. “My mind must be elsewhere today. I didn’t intend to offend you.”
“You didn’t offend me.”
He’s slipping under my skin with skilled finesse, arrogance and all.
“Good to hear.” I slide my empty glass toward Matt. I want another even though this one’s already snaking through me faster than I could’ve anticipated. I’m two seconds away from telling him to bother someone else if only there were someone else around for him to bother. “If you don’t mind.”
I force a tight-lipped smile and nod toward the T.V., trying desperately to ignore the obnoxious amount of power this stranger wields in his unrelenting stare.
Matt refills my drink, pouring clear to the top.
Numb warmth invades my cheeks at the same time.
This must be what a buzz feels like.
“So what exactly are you celebrating today?” Dane asks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a young woman drinking champagne at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday.”
“New job.” I refuse to make eye contact. I’m disengaging and hoping it’s only a matter of time before he takes the hint.
“Where?”
I swallow hard and clear my throat lightly.
Of course he would ask that.
“Mutchler Corporation.”
His head tilts and his lips jut for a second. “Ah. Working for Randy?”
My heart sputters to a stop.
“Right.” I force a coolness in my tone that implies I wholeheartedly believe my own lies.
“What will you be doing at RJM?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” My brows lift as my eyes dart to him, desperate to gauge whether or not he’s buying this. “It’s not exactly official yet. Nothing’s been signed. The terms and titles are private. You know how that goes.”
He can’t argue the details if I give him none.
His palm rakes across the underside of his smooth, cleft chin as the corners of his mouth lift enough to show a hint of dimples. “I know exactly how that goes. I know Randy quite well. We run in the same…circles.”
My cheeks flood with red, and I tilt my head down just enough that my hair covers them. Funny how lying could make me feel so powerful and invincible a second ago, and then this man so easily flips it all on its side.
“Randy mentioned he was going to be hiring a…concierge.” Dane holds a wicked flash in his steely gaze. “What’s a girl like you doing taking a job like that?”
“It sounded like an interesting job.” I sweep my hair from my shoulder and take another slow sip. “I guess I was the most qualified applicant.”
Vagueness and ambiguity fuels this conversation though I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this running.
“You don’t want to work for Randy,” he says, leaning into me. He flashes a white smile, the first one I’ve seen on him since he walked in here. My attraction to him, as much as I try to fight it, soars off the charts for a moment. “Trust me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you should be working for me.”
I lean away, a laugh bubbling in my balled stomach. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
“I’m a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.”
“Are you proposing that I work for you instead?”
“I’m demanding that you not work for Randy.” His gaze floods my veins with warmth and overruns my thought process for a moment. “You’re all wrong for him. Believe me when I tell you that.”