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The guy is in his sixties, portly, with a bald pate and natty gray goatee and his gaze keeps shifting to Scarlett, like she’s a party favor.
He wants to invest. I don’t need the money, but he has influence in certain arenas in real estate where he can help open doors.
I’d like the smart route to those doors, but if he keeps eyeing Scarlett’s breasts I’m going to find another way.
“Actually,” I say, cutting him off, “I need to discuss some things with my PA. If you don’t mind.”
With that, I press my hand firmly against her back and steer her away, and to the back of the room where I grab a whiskey and glance at her.
She’s frowning. “Did you just rudely cut that old bore off because he was looking at me like he wanted to lick me?”
“What gave you that idea?” I take a swallow of the peaty liquid and it heats a path through my blood. But it’s not as hot as her.
She grabs herself a drink, too. We’re at the little bar tucked way in the back that’s basically a refill station for the waitstaff. But they know who I am and wouldn’t dare say a word.
“Because you were rude.”
My mouth twitches as humor starts to bubble inside. “Maybe I’m rude to everyone.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, you probably are, but on the surface you’re a martini. It’s not until later all that smoothness moves in for the kill, and then it’s too late.”
“Is that the reason you programmed my name in like that?”
It’s a small smile. Like a cat, and my reaction is innate. I shift closer to her, an electric thrill running through me. “You should watch it.”
She’s scared of me, but not when the air is alive with heat and the crackling awareness between us. When it’s like that, she’s excited. But I don’t mind, so am I. Scarlett has a habit of sliding in when you don’t notice, even when the only thing in the room you can see and smell is her.
If I’m a martini, then she’s smoke; elusive and scented and the perfect accompaniment.
If you were so inclined.
If you were someone who believed in where this could lead.
“You like to play with fire, Scarlett,” I murmur, dipping my head close.
The only place this goes is light flirtation. For show.
Regardless of that pull on the senses she has.
She raises her head and her hazel eyes are almost dark gold the way her hair gleams in the low, buttery light in the space. And especially in the low-lit corner we occupy.
“Maybe I like fire.”
I want to taste the lips, take the invitation that’s there, just beneath the surface.
Shifting a little, our bodies brush and a small gasp escapes her as I lower my head.
“Fuck, Hudson, and they call me a player.”
Raising my gaze, I narrow my eyes at Ryder.
“There’s a thing called timing.”
“Yeah, and I have that in buckets.” He gives me an innocent look. “What? I didn’t say it was good timing for others, but…for me, it’s always fantastic. I’m Ryder, Hud’s brother.”
“Do you ever cross the streams?” Scarlett says, taking his hand.
Ryder kisses it in a practiced, smarmy way I don’t like and he laughs.
