That statement alone aggravates me. He used the word American as if it were derogatory. I’ve traveled all over the world in my lifetime and still hadn’t found a city to rivalChicago.
Maybe Paris.Maybe.
But it still doesn’t have the same grittiness of Chicago. It may be more beautiful, but it will never behome.
“What’s yourname?”
Finally, I turn, allowing myself to see the man who wants to interrupt the moment that my martini and I arehaving.
Damnit.
Naturally, he not only smells like sin and sounds like heaven, but he’s drop-dead gorgeoustoo.
The type of man I would’ve welcomed into my bed if it weren’t for the fact that all I wanted to do is drink. The dark brown hair around his face is windblown, light scruff on his face lining his lush lips perfectly. His light sky-blue eyes bore into me, filled with curiosity and something I hadn’t planned on—lust.
“Elizabeth,” I lie. I don’t feel like being me, and since I don’t know him, I don’t want to give away more than I have to, which at this point, isnothing.
“Elizabeth,” he repeats, holding out his hand to mine. Hesitantly, I slide my hand against his palm, letting his warmth transfer to my ice-cold fingers. “I’mLou.”
“Nice to meet you,Lou.”
He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the top, scorching my skin in their wake. “What brings you heretonight?”
As soon as he releases my hand from his grip, I miss his warmth. Quickly, I grab the glass between my hands, averting my eyes, and trying to cool the flesh he’d just touched. “Just a drink before I headhome.”
“May I buy youanother?”
“Why?” I glance at him over my shoulder inconfusion.
“Because I don’t like to drink alone.” He grabs his tumbler of Cognac. “I don’t know anyone here, and I’d rather you stay for awhile.”
I take another sip of my martini, staring at his arms, which are bulging beneath the silk fabric. “Whyme?”
The sleeves on his dress shirt are rolled up, exposing his forearms and wrists, which are masculine and thick. A smattering of hair covers his thick, corded muscles that melt into the dress shirt near his elbow, straining against the material and becomingone.
If I’m going to stay and play someone I’m not, I figure I’ll need another drink to get through it. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about staying. But all I have to do is look at Lou, and I know why–he’s head-to-toehandsome.
But tonight, more than any other, I feel the need to get lost. I can’t run away and forget everything that’s happening, but I can drink and role-play, pretending to be someone else. I never let go, tossing caution to the wind, but tonight the thought’s intoxicating. Tonight, I want to be anyone butme.
He looks around the bar before turning his full attention toward me. “I don’t see anyone else as beautiful as youare.”
I can’t stop my crooked smile. “Thanks.”
I shouldn’t be so enamored with the compliment. There are only three other people sitting around the bar, staring at the television as the Cubs lose yet anothergame.
Clearly, the martini was more powerful than I anticipated. Maybe I should’ve eaten something before I started drinking tonight. Normally, such a small flirtation wouldn’t have an impact, but between his beautiful face and smooth accent, I’m agoner.
“So, will you stay?” He points at my martini glass that’s now almost empty and waits for myresponse.
It can’t hurt to stay for one more,right?
“Sure.”
“Another round,” he tells the bartender, pointing down to our glasses before he strokes his chin, the stubble on his face moving underneath his fingertips. “So, what do you do,Elizabeth?”
I can’t take my eyes off his face. I watch his fingers and wonder about the coarseness of his stubble and how it would feel rubbing against my skin. Would it tickle? I’ve never been with a man with as much hair on his face as he has. It has to be soft and my fingers itch to touch it, but I refrain. “I’m an executiveassistant.”
If I’m going to lie, which I am, why not go big? People rarely have questions for assistants. If I mention the word CEO, we’d sit here and talk about my career, and it’s the one thing I want toavoid.
