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I walk for several blocks, enjoying the sights and sounds of this once-familiar city. When my feet start to ache a bit from walking in heels, I stop in front of a low-key but upscale bistro. I’m sure it’s too late for them to be serving food, but there are enough people at the bar for me to take a chance and go inside.
Now that the shock of the sex club has worn off, I’m ready for that second drink now.
A couple of people glance at me as I take a seat at the bar, but I’m sure it’s more because I’m alone instead of what I’m wearing. Unless someone has X-ray vision, they’re not going to get even a peek at the dress I have on.
My shoulders relax a little as I order a Manhattan from the bartender. He slides it across the bar, and just as I wrap my fingers around the glass, a deep voice speaks from behind me.
“You’re not following me, are you? Because running into each other twice in one day … that’s excessive.”
Chapter 3
Sophie
The smooth timbre of the voice makes the hairs on my arm stand on end, and I have to take a quick sip of my drink for courage and to wet my dry lips.
Because I know that voice. At least, I think I do.
I’m slow to turn around because I want it to be true.
I want it to be him.
The man from earlier.
The close call.
And almost as if wishes really do come true, it is.
The ambiance in this bar isn’t as dramatic as the strobes and spotlights from the sex club, but the man standing in front of me is lit dramatically, half his face cast in shadow. But even so, I can still recognize him. I couldn’t forget his features if I tried.
My gaze tracks over his angular jaw, the one that was so set with concern earlier today. His cheekbones are just as well-defined as I remember, and when our gazes lock, his gray eyes glint with … something. It’s hard to categorize. I’m hoping it’s interest, even if that feels a little like playing with fire.
Something about this man makes my heart beat faster, and even though it’s terrifying, it feels nice too. It’s an adrenaline rush of a much better and more addicting kind than what I felt at the club Jacquelyn took me too. It makes me feel tingly and alive, and that’s something I’ve been needing badly lately. Because all I’ve wanted to do ever since I found out Brad was cheating and broke up with him is curl up into a ball, forget who I am, and never be vulnerable around anyone again.
Dismissing thoughts of my ex, since he no longer deserves to take up real estate in my brain, I tilt my head to one side, watching the specks of blue glint in the man’s gray eyes.
“Now, why would I follow you?” I ask lightly, wrapping my fingers around the cold comfort of my cocktail. “To give you another chance to hit me with your car?”
His dark eyebrows draw together, a thundercloud passing across his face. “That’s been taken care of.”
I have to suppress an urge to shiver. What is it like to be in such control? To “take care” of things with such finality? I’ve been drifting along in my life for so long that it’s difficult to imagine… and yet absolutely tantalizing.
The man in front of me is studying me closely. “You’re really okay?”
“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” I shoot back, sipping my drink and watching as his gaze falls to my lips and then my throat.
And then farther, to the collar of my coat.
If he only knew what was under it.
Some part of me actually wants him to know, and that sudden realization makes my breath catch. I squeeze my thighs together, clearing my throat as my nipples suddenly go hard. Nothing at the sex club really did it for me, but two seconds of talking to this handsome stranger has me more turned on than I’ve been all night.
“Let me make it up to you,” he says, his voice so low it’s almost a rumble.
There’s something in his tone that makes me wonder what exactly he has in mind to make things up to me, and I shift my weight on my seat, trying not to let my imagination run wild. Jacquelyn’s teasing comment about how he could repay me in physical favors echoes through my head, and I can feel a flush start to creep its way up my cheeks.
“I’m happy to be alive,” I tell him, taking another sip of my drink in the hopes that the cool liquid will banish the fire that seems to be burning just beneath my skin. It doesn’t work. “I don’t need anything more than that, so don’t think you owe me anything.”
The couple sitting next to me stand, gathering their jackets around them, and the man smoothly slides onto the stool beside me before the bartender can even clear their empty glasses and wipe down the granite.
