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Sleek and sophisticated, I walked the walk and talked the talk. It was a classic case of ‘fake it ‘till you make it’ and when I drew the eye of Marco Moneta, got married, and started working at Billings, Moneta, & Whyte, I thought I had made it.
A knife of guilt twists in my belly, and I push it away. Why am I even thinking about this?
I came here to leave all that behind me.
Ginny delivers my glass of wine, and I frown as she sets it down in front of me.
Ah…that’s what’s stirring all this up.
Maybe a third glass isn’t a good idea after all.
“Did I get it wrong?” Ginny stares down at the table. “You did say you wanted another, didn’t ye?”
I wave away Ginny’s concern and accept the drink. “I did, but this is my limit. Please cut me off.”
She chuckles. “Aye, I’ll do that.”
Left to myself, I make a concerted effort to slowly sip at my wine, while I scroll through a couple of the local attraction brochures I found at the entrance. At the same time, I work to keep my wandering eyes from drifting to the man at the end of the bar.
Tall and athletic, he has the cuffs of his steel-blue button-up turned back on his arms to reveal an art gallery of tattoos. You can also see them peeking out from the ‘V’ of exposed skin on his chest at the neck of his shirt.
His hair is dark and long enough to curl off the back of his neck and beside his ears. And by the way his shoulder and arm seams on his shirt are straining, there’s no question he’s physically fit.
He is devastatingly hot and even more attractive, because he obviously knows it.
And he’s waaay off my radar.
I may want a little bite in my bed, but Mr. Magnetism over there would devour me.
I beat down the warmth fluttering low in my belly and frown at my wine. I should’ve stopped at two. It’s been months since I got laid and though my girl parts are weighing in heavily toward a bad boy for a great night, it’s not a good idea for several reasons.
One: Mom and I just got here.
Two: I’m not in a good headspace after Marco.
Three: I need to make better choices here, so I don’t end up in the same mess all over again.
Sadly, reminding myself of the truth does nothing to dampen my sex drive.
Fine. I’ll drink in his sex appeal and then unpack my battery-operated-boyfriend when I get back to the inn. Bob and I will spend some quality time together and I’ll save myself a lot of morning-after embarrassment.
Hilarious. I’m imagining a morning after, and the man didn’t even express an interest.
With my mind in a wine-spinning scramble, I accidentally look up and our eyes lock.
Wow. Just…wow.
Hit with all that sculpted masculinity, the air is sucked from my lungs. I’ve dealt with successful men for years, but this man exudes strength and unrelenting power.
The waitress cuts off my view as she steps between me and the bar. There’s a tension in her expression that wasn’t there before as she hits me with a nervous smile. “At the risk of putting my foot in it, you might not want to go there, girlfriend.”
She holds my gaze for a moment and waits until I nod my understanding.
“Right. You’re definitely right. Can I get my bill?”
“Aye, let me take these dishes to the kitchen and then I’ll meet you at the bar to settle up.”
“Perfect. Thanks.”
