Page 4 of Playing Hard to Get

About him.

“How’s it going, darlin’?”

There it was. The words I'd been dreaming about so often I almost didn't believe they were real. And I wouldn't have, if it weren't for the strong hands that slid across my hips and the warm breath that brushed against the skin on my neck. Those hands pulled me backward and I gripped the smooth, dark wood of the bar to keep from toppling off my barstool. Then, they released me as I spun on my stool to face him.

“Mitch.” I reached for him and he pulled me into his chest, and the world around me suddenly felt right. His hands smoothed over my back as I gripped the hard muscles of his. Closing my eyes, I breathed him in. He smelled of woodsy cologne and stale cigarette smoke, a scent that was distinctly him. I hadn't smelled a cigarette in a year that didn't make me think of him.

Pulling back, I looked at his gorgeous face. His deep brown eyes shined in the dim lights hanging above the bar, like there was some secret he was keeping from me, that he’d spill to me if we talked long enough. His brown hair was so dark it was nearly black and was mussed on top in a way that made him look like he just crawled out of bed after a long night of sex.

Of course, my mind would go there. But with Mitch, it always had.

I ran my hands over his solid chest and smiled. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. You look good. Great. Gorgeous. God.” He shook his head and stepped back, then leaned an elbow on the bar. He wiped his hand across the dark shadow that covered his strong jaw and a grin tugged at his lips. Black lines curled into the soft spot under his jaw and poured down his biceps past his elbows, emphasizing the solid muscles in his arms.

My fingers itched to touch him—a small piece of my ultimate fantasy. Just the way those dark eyes swept over me was enough to make me tremble in my place.

Mitch’s eyes met mine. “It’s been a while.”

“It has. You look great.”

It had been too long. Too long since I last saw him or heard the rumble of his laughter in my ears. Too long since I last felt his warm breath against the skin of my neck. It was last fall, before I disappeared. The weather was just starting to get cold. Now we were on the flip side, with spring trying hard to battle off Old Man Winter. Sadly, he was a codgy old bastard, and didn't know when to quit.

Mitch swept a palm down his chest and my eyes followed. I could swear he’d gotten sexier since I last saw him. His standard, tight black t-shirt showed off every curve of his muscled body. His dark wash blue jeans hugged his gorgeous ass. I’d never been so jealous of denim.

When I pulled my eyes up to his, the grin on his lips had turned devilish. “What have you been up to?” That rumble in his voice did something to my insides that was hard not to acknowledge. It was dangerous, being this close to him.

“Traveling, mostly.”

“Yeah? Where ya been?”

I couldn’t help it. I needed to touch him. I fingered a piece of lint clinging to his collar. “Just got back from Tokyo.”

Mitch leaned in closer, his fingers trailing over my cheek before his hand slid to the back of my neck. My pulse throbbed as he smoothed his thumb down my throat.

“I love Japan.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I remember.”

He cocked his head as his eyes swept my face. “Do you now?”

I nodded. It would be hard to forget.

Mitch pushed closer, his thigh slipping between my legs, inching up the skirt of my little black dress. That thumb stroked my throat and as his cheek grazed mine, my heart pounded harder in my chest.

“You look like you could use a drink.” His warm body scorched my skin as his lips burned against my jaw. Just like in my dreams. I could barely breathe with him this close. I certainly couldn’t talk. Instead, I nodded again. “What can I get ya, darlin’?” His hot breath tickled my skin. I had to force myself to breathe before I could find my voice.

“Scotch, neat,” I finally managed. Mitch’s thumb made another pass down my throat, and I swallowed hard. “A double.”

I felt his grin against my cheek before he pulled back. He left an aching void between my thighs, and I missed him immediately.

Mitch jumped up on the bar and swung his legs around before dropping to the ground on the other side. He grabbed a tumbler and a bottle of scotch off the glass shelves on the back wall. After pouring a heavy dose of the amber liquid, he slid the glass in front of me. That same devilish grin was on his lips as he leaned his elbows on the bar.

Fingering the rim of the glass, my eyes traveled his rugged face. “I thought you quit your bartending gig.”

He shrugged, reached below the bar, and pulled out another tumbler of scotch. After a quick sip, he stowed the glass back below. His tongue made a slow pass across his bottom lip. “I don’t work here anymore. At least not full-time. Help Carol out sometimes when she needs me.”

“Is that so?”