The room echoed with voices above the clatter of glass as the bartender poured drinks and opened bottles. Music pulsed in the background, canceling the sound of the flat screen TV’s that hung throughout. The barstools were filled with people, while others huddled in groups or occupied the small tables, all tossing back drinks and taking advantage of the two-for-one specials—Amber included.
She squeezed through two men who eyed her provocatively as she dropped her empty margarita glass on the bar. Not wanting to seem rude, she gave them a quaint nod to indicate she wasn’t interested and left to find the ladies’ room.
A few feet away, a group of guys were engaged in a lively game of darts directly in front of her, so she waited before crossing their path. One of them stopped, with a dart poised in his hand, when he saw her standing off to the side, and she motioned toward the board. “Go ahead.”
He dropped his arm and smiled at her with glassy eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you all night.”
She wanted to comment on his cheesy pick-up line but refrained. “Me?” she asked, bringing her fingertips to her chest.
“Yeah. I’ve been looking for my good luck charm.” He extended his arm and encouraged her to take the dart with the jut of his chin. “Take my shot. These guys are killing me.”
She let out a short laugh because she never threw a dart in her life, and she already had two very strong drinks. “I don’t think—”
“You gotta be better than me. I’m practically seeing two of everything by now.” He waved the dart at her. “Just throw it at the board.”
She shrugged and took the dart. Without any forethought at all, she flung it at the board and missed it completely. It stuck in the wall a good two feet away from its intended target, right next to several people. Her hands flew to her mouth, and her small, embarrassed laugh turned into a gasp. Not because she almost impaled someone. Because she recognized the blond-haired hunk pulling the dart from the wall as a well-known professional football player.
He looked at the dart, an amused smile on his face, then turned toward the direction it came from and locked eyes with Amber. He started toward her, holding out the dart as if he was returning a scarf that blew away in the wind.
“I think this is yours,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling.
She’d seen Robert Blade on TV a million times, but she’d never seen him in person before, and the unjust television screen should be fined for deceiving America about this man’s good looks. It’s not that the TV made him look unattractive, because it didn’t—not by a longshot. It just couldn’t capture the allure of his smile or the way it made you feel when he set his attention on you. Her heart sped up, and her breathing slowed. Her cheeks flushed, and a tingle ran up her spine. She was mesmerized, caught in a web of this man’s quiet charm.
When she realized that he was still standing there holding the dart and smiling at her, she took it from him. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t even playing. I was just walking by, and this guy told me to take a shot.”
He quirked a blond brow and looked over her shoulder. “What guy?”
She turned to point him out, but he was gone. So were all of his friends, clearly having fled to avoid a confrontation with the powerhouse in front of her.
“They all left.”
“Sure, they did.” He dragged out the first word, baiting her.
“No. Really.” She pointed to the empty pub table. “They were right here.”
“I believe you.”
She knew he was teasing and teased him back. “Why were you standing so close to the dart board, anyway? Don’t you know that’s dangerous?”
He grunted a short laugh. “Obviously. Who taught you how to throw darts?”
“No one.”
He jerked his head back and looked at her as if it were unheard of. “No one taught you how to throw darts?”
“No. I’ve never played.”
“Let me show you.”
“It’s OK. You don’t have to.”
“Do you want to poke someone’s eye out next time?”
“I’m not sure there’s going to be a next time.”
His smile broadened. “There’salwaysa next time.”
She opened her mouth to say something but stopped.Was that a double entendre?
