Heat crept up my cheeks, and without really thinking and definitely without meaning to, I gave him the honest to God’s truth. “It wasn’t working for a long time, but we kept it going even though we were both miserable. Brad wanted someone who could give him more.”
“And what did you want?”
His question took me by surprise. I knew the answer, of course, but it wasn’t anything I’d allowed myself to voice out loud. My eyes darted over to Tiff, who was far enough away that I knew she couldn’t hear us. Quietly, I said, “To be enough.”
The power of those eyes hit me hard. They were blue, I could tell now, but it was the force of them, the way he looked at me like I was something precious, something wondrous; it was too much. I turned back to the bar and swallowed another sip of wine to steady my resolve. “What about you?”
“I’ve never been married.”
“Not for you?”
“Not yet. I’m too focused on my career right now and don’t have time for a relationship beyond something casual.”
“And you enjoy that?” I was genuinely curious.
“Absolutely. I like women, and I like sex, and I’ve had a lot of both. I know that sounds cocky, but it’s true.”
“Actually, I find your blatant egotism refreshing.”
“Really?”
“God, no.” It felt good to laugh this freely. Despite his cockiness, something was disarming about him. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I was drawn in, addicted to his piercing gaze, like he was trying to decipher me. “Although I do like your honesty. If there’s one part of dating I hate, it’s the half-truths and fake personas everyone puts on to impress. It’s exhausting. If casual sex means not having to worry about all that, then sign me up.”
He leaned in. “I like it. It’s fun to figure out how to get under someone’s skin, and even better to get under their clothes.” We weren’t touching, but the closeness of him was making me light-headed.
“Jesus.”
“That’s usually what they say.”
“Oh, my God.”
“That, too.”
“Stop, seriously,” I said, laughing and pushing him back.
Tiff returned to top up our drinks, and as they talked to each other, I enjoyed a moment to observe him and appreciate how open he was.
That openness was reflected in everything about him. The relaxed outfit, dark jeans and a navy sweater, fit his form to a T but weren’t showy. He knew how attractive he was, and while he didn’t seem to flaunt it, he absolutely owned it. He was comfortable in his skin, and my hands twitched against where they had been resting between the short hem of my dress to keep it from riding up and hiding the soft curve of my waist. I pulled my hands away with effort and tried to muster up the same confidence that he exuded so effortlessly.
When he caught me admiring, he winked before turning back to Tiffany to finish his point. “It’s the kind of TV show where everyone is young and beautiful, and the storylines range from unrealistic to ridiculous. But it’s a great crew, and I get paid to act, so I can’t complain.”
Of course. That explained why he looked like he’d come out of a catalog. “Oh, so you’re an actor?”
“Audrey.” Tiff sounded scandalized, “Please tell me you’re joking. I hate television, and even I know who he is.”
Well, now I felt sheepish. “Sorry,” I offered to both of them.
“Don’t apologize. It’s refreshing.” He held out his hand, “Jackson Ward. Nice to meet you.”
“Audrey Adams.” I slipped my hand in his, and if my mind was distracted by desire before, touching him ratcheted it up even further. Now I wasn’t just thinking about all the places I wanted to touch him, but all the places I wanted him to touch me.
I cleared my throat. “So, tell me about your job.”
He proceeded to describe the banalities of show biz, and I was listening, I was. There were a lot of similarities in our industries. But mostly, I was entranced by the passion he had for his work. Those hands—those hands!—kept jumping into the space between us as he spoke, occasionally brushing against me and setting my skin aflame.
But, by far, his jaw was his most distracting feature. I couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles flexed and moved, telegraphing his thoughts even when he wasn’t saying a word. I could have lost myself watching them shift and change, studying his face like a sculptor.
“Sounds a lot like my job,” I said, hoping that if I kept him talking for a little bit longer, I could figure out the next move.
