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What am I going to say to him? Part of me wants to drop at his feet, thank him for being such an inspiration, tell him he's my hero and the reason I'm one of the top soccer players in the country. But that's not going to work here, not tonight, anyway. I'm playing a game, one I made up. And tonight, I'm a mechanic, thanks to Jasmine.
This guy would be used to getting the attention of any girl he wants, so I decide to ignore him instead. I walk straight past him to the bar, smiling at the cute bartender from earlier. I fix my hair, tucking a strand behind my ear in a flirtatious way. Standing close enough to Brad that he can't miss me, I lean over to get the bartender's attention. "Another Jameson, thanks," I purr.
He smiles with a nod of the head and pours my drink, placing it in front of me. I take it, swirling the amber-colored liquid around a few times, then taking a small sip. I turn toward Brad, who is now unashamedly checking me out. I raise a brow in his direction, like,what the fuck are you looking at?Then I lean back on the bar, sipping my drink as I take in my surroundings. Playing it as cool as I can, even though my heart is pounding out of my chest. I'm close enough that I can smell his aftershave, and it's intoxicating.
"Nice choice." He smiles my way, then turns to the bartender. "Another Jameson on the rocks." The bartender places his drink down in front of him. He has a swig then looks back to me. "You're not like the other girls hanging around here tonight."
That Australian accent... fuck, he sounds so sexy. I take another sip of my drink, trying to stay calm. He's going to come on to me. Acting uninterested works every time. Guys like this have overly inflated egos, and they can't stand the fact that a pretty girl might not be interested in them.
"Oh yeah, how's that?" I ask, keeping my face unemotional, trying to look bored, glancing around the club like I'm on the hunt for something better, rather than giving him the attention I can tell he craves.
"I've been sitting alone at the bar for an hour, and so far, I've had a line-up of overdone girls asking for my autograph or a photo." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his brow knit together, displeased at the thought, and I'm glad I didn't come over here with my hero speech.
I feign shock, placing a hand over my chest, finally looking his way. "Oh, that sucks to be you. Wait, autograph? Who are you? Don't tell me you're on one of those reality TV shows or something." I laugh internally, trying my best not to blow my cover when I see the look on his face. He's not used to girls not knowing who he is, it's so obvious. It's one thing to be good at what you do, but this guy is that and sexy as hell as well. Everyone knows who Brad Swift is!
He frowns. "No, not TV. You really don't know who I am?"
I think for a minute, tapping my finger to my mouth. Then shake my head. "Sorry, can't place you. Oh, I've got it. Were you in Crocodile Dundee? You have that Aussie accent going on."
He throws his head back, laughing, and fuck, it's the best sound ever. "Crocodile Dundee, that movie is really fucking old. But you got me, I'm from Australia originally."
"So you're Australian, but it's not a full Aussie accent, though. Where else have you lived?" I ask, trying not to stare at him too intently, which is hard. He is truly the most beautiful man I have ever seen in real life. Short chestnut-colored hair, warm brown eyes, his skin is golden, and his lips—fuck, they look perfect for kissing. I glance at them for a second longer than I should, and he notices, his lips turning into a cheeky smile. Damn.
"You know your Aussie ascents?"
I shrug. "Yeah, a bit, I guess. My mom is an Aussie. She's been here for nearly forty years, but she still sounds like one."
"I've been in England for the past ten years playing soccer for the premier league. That's the difference you were hearing."
I fake a smile. "Oh, you play sports, cool," I say like it's the most uninteresting thing in the world.
He tilts his head, his eyes roaming leisurely over me. This whole uninterested thing is working like a charm. The look he gives me is like he wants to eat me up, and man, I want him to. "What do you do?" he asks, a smile playing on his lips.
"I'm a mechanic." I shrug like it's no big deal. God, I hope he doesn't know anything about being a mechanic, or cars, cause all I have on the topic is,yeah, I fix cars.
I glance around the room to see how the other girls are doing. They're all still chatting, no one has a number yet, that I can tell. Good, I still have a chance to win this.
He gives me a sidewise grin. "Of course you are. What's your name, pretty mechanic?"
He thinks I'm pretty. My heart almost skips a beat. One of my idols thinks I'm pretty. "Andy. What about you? Or should I just call you Dundee?"
"It's Brad," he says, unimpressed by my joke. He really is ticked off that I don't recognize him. It's hilarious.
I hold out my hand for him to shake. "Nice to meet you, Brad. This was interesting, but I need to be getting back to my friends now." I tilt my head to the side, trying to read him. His gaze holds mine as he continues to grasp my hand. I blink back at him, all of a sudden forgetting what I'm here to do and losing my words, completely lost in his gaze.
"Yes, pretty girl? What did you want to say?" His eyes flick to my lips and I get a vision of his lips pressed to mine, his hands in my hair as my eyes flutter closed, so caught up in the moment of passion between us. I snap out of my daze.You want to win, Andy, concentrate. "I was just going to ask for your number. Maybe we can do coffee sometime and you can tell me what it's like to play sports."
He laughs at my comment, but his eyes don't leave mine. "Why exchange numbers to have coffee sometime when I can talk to you now? Tonight?"
I shrug, words to voice my argument not coming because I don't want to stop talking to him. But damn, if I can't get the number, I won't win. But the longer I stand here with him, the less I care about the silly game.
"I'm only in town for the night, then I fly back to London. You want to have a drink with me, you're going to have to come back to my room tonight," he adds, trying to persuade me to leave with him.
Smooth, Brad. You can see how hard he normally has to try, or rather, not at all. I'm sure most girls fall at his feet with such an offer, but I'm not most girls. The offer is tempting, though, so much so I'm really struggling with how to turn him down. "Does that line normally work on the overdone girls that were bothering you before?" I reply, cocking a sassy brow.
"Every time." He smirks cheekily, and I believe him. A guy like him wouldn't even have to try. He could get any girl in this bar, but he wants to take me back to his room.
I pull out of his grip, realizing I'm still holding his hand. "Like you said, baby, I'm not like most of the girls in here. That's not going to work on me." I finish my drink, placing the empty glass down on the bar, making it obvious I'm about to leave.
