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“Exactly!” She slaps the table dramatically. “And if you think there’s an interest there, I’m sure you could move into a financial position within the company. With your forensic accounting master’s, you’ll be able to find work at any financial firm. Fraud is always going on. You know what they say, scammers are the new serial killers.”
“True,” I say, laughing at her comment. I’m feeling better already about my decision.
“But first,” Taylor says, looking around the bar, “we need to get you laid because it’s been over two years now and you’ve graduated so no more excuses.”
I duck my head in embarrassment. “Okay, maybe yell it a little louder next time so the bartender can hear you?”
I slide off my stool, flipping her the bird as they both fall into a fit of giggles.
“I’m getting a round of old-fashioneds.”
I walk to the bar and wait for the bartender to notice me when a shadowy figure to my right catches my eye. This guy is not your average twenty-something frat boy. His suit looks expensive, bespoke like it was made for him. It hugs his arms and shoulders, accentuating a very toned physique. A lock of his dirty-blond hair has fallen over one eye as he reads something on his phone.
I take the advantage of going unnoticed by him to really look him over. His jaw is rough with stubble, but it’s cut and angular. His lips full. He reaches for his cocktail, bringing it to his mouth to take a sip before placing it back on the bar top without looking away from his phone.
“What’s with you finance guys?” A burst of confidence surges through me as I make small talk with the stranger. “Always working.” I shake my head and place my order as the man turns to look at me.
He glances over his shoulder to make sure I’m speaking to him before sliding his phone in his pocket and turning on his stool to look at me. He doesn’t hide his gaze as it slowly travels down my body, then back up again before he replies.
“Guilty.” He smirks.
The dim light catches his icy-blue eyes and makes my stomach do a little flip. Maybe that champagne hit me harder than I realized because this man is so sexy I feel my mouth grow dry.
“Married to the job?” I say coyly, dragging my teeth over my bottom lip seductively like I’m in a cheesy rom-com. I brush my hair back in a flirty manner, leaning a bit forward on the bar top so it presses my breasts together.
Who the hell am I right now?
“Afraid so. She’s my wife, mistress, and lover.” He tosses back the rest of the amber liquid in his tumbler and places it on the bar top.
“Shame.” I smile as the bartender places my drinks down in front of me and I go to hand him my credit card.
“Allow me, please?” he says, nodding toward my card.
“Thank you.” I pull my card back and place it in my wallet. I gather the three tumblers between my fingers, and then I set them back down on the bar, not yet ready to break up this little flirt fest.
“So what brings a beautiful young woman like you to a place like this?” The way he looks at me has my stomach doing all sorts of little flip-flops.
“You mean to a bar in The Loop filled with young finance gurus foaming at the mouth to be the next Wolf of Wall Street?” He chuckles and I shrug. “Just something in the way they all brag about how they can really see Jordan Belfort in themselves gets me going. Like it’s going to make a woman’s panties drop that they can resonate with a selfish, narcissistic scam artist like they really are Leonardo DiCaprio in the movie.”
“You’re fiery. Funny as hell too.” His eyes do that lazy perusal of my body again and it sends my stomach into somersaults. “Please tell me a woman as gorgeous as you hasn’t been lured into the soul-crushing world of finance?”
“You mean because I’m pretty it would be a shame?”
He nods. “Not a shame. We need more women like you who call it like it is, but you’re young. Seems like there’s probably more fun and exciting things to fill your time than long hours and hanging out at bars with men like me.”
“Men like you, huh?” I cock my head, bringing back my flirty demeanor. “And what kind of man are you?”
“The kind your dad wouldn’t want you talking to.” His voice is deep and a little ragged as he leans back in his seat, running his hand through his hair as his eyes drop down to my lips. I stare at him, debating my next move, when I notice the sexy lines at the corner of his eyes. It was obvious he wasn’t a fresh graduate when I first saw him, but it’s only now that I can see he definitely has a few years on me.
Damn, an older man—my kryptonite.
“Look, I don’t normally do this.” He laughs at my statement. “Right. Cliché, I know, especially after your little ominous warning but…” I rummage through my wallet for an old receipt and grab a pen from the bar, scribbling down my first name, last initial, and my phone number and hand it to him.
“Is that an initial?” He looks at the paper, then to me.
“Yes, I figure a man who looks like you must have at least twenty different I don’t normally do this women’s numbers in his phone. So, with a last initial, maybe I’ll stand out.”
“Only twenty?” He hooks an eyebrow at me, making me laugh. “Why only the initial? Scared to give me your last name?”
