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So here she was. On the night of her big Three-O. Looking down the barrel of the rest of her life. Alone.
‘Another one?’
Alice blinked at the barman and he pointed to her empty glass. ‘Did you enjoy the French Kiss?’
‘Yes, it was delicious.’
‘So you want to try another cocktail?’
Should she have another? Why not? This wasn’t a night for being careful. Picking up the menu, she scanned the list of outrageous names and smiled. ‘I think I’ll be adventurous and go for a Screaming Orgasm this time.’
‘And I’ll have one, too,’ said a lazy voice beside her.
Alice spun to her left and was surprised to find a man sitting on the stool right next to her. When had he arrived?
He smiled. Slowly. It was a smile that started at his eyes – light blue, clever and good-humoured – and took its time reaching his mouth. With the same lack of haste he let his gaze linger on her and he didn’t try to hide the fact that he liked what he saw.
Something about his eyes and the very male way he was checking her out made her stomach feel ridiculously weightless – as if she’d suddenly toppled over the edge of a cliff.
‘Hi,’ the stranger said.
She had no experience of meeting men in bars; her ex-husband had been her first boyfriend and she’d married him before she was out of her teens. If only she could think of some smart, metro-chick response.
‘Hi yourself,’ she replied.
At a guess, he was in his mid-thirties. He had dark brown hair with just the faintest hint of silver at the temples and a longish face. A strong face. He was lean and suntanned and dressed in chinos and an open necked, white shirt with long sleeves rolled back.
‘You seem to be drinking alone,’ he said. ‘It’s not a healthy habit.’
Alice felt compelled to defend herself. ‘It’s not actually a habit. This is a one off experience.’
He accepted this with a slight nod. ‘Are you having fun?’
‘The best.’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘What about you?’
‘I prefer the company of others.’
‘But you’re on your own tonight.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he admitted and he sent her another slow smile. ‘But then, I have an excellent excuse.’
She drew a deep breath, aware that a kind of game had begun and the ball was in her court. ‘You just got out of jail?’
His eyes widened slightly and then he chuckled. ‘In a manner of speaking. I’ve escaped from Sydney. I only arrived in town today and I don’t know anyone.’ His blue gaze held hers for breathtaking seconds. ‘Yet.’
Okay.Nowwas the point when she should give this guy the brush off. But their drinks arrived. And before she could pay, her neighbour pushed several bills across the bar.
‘My shout,’ he said.
She was about to protest.
But she changed her mind. Why the heck shouldn’t she test her wings on a little light flirtation? She was thirty – and for the first time in her adult life she was out on the town as a free agent – two good reasons to let a rather nice looking guy chat her up in a bar.
If he wanted to.
And if she decided she wanted to let him.
‘So, what’s your excuse for drinking alone?’ he asked her.
