“What’s your favorite song?” she asks, picking up her drink.
My heart is racing.“Probably ‘Sex on Fire’ by Kings of Leon.”
“Ah, a lusty love song for you, too.”
“Definitely. Add that to my Power Point, please.”
“Done. Anything else?”
I take a long sip of my drink and take a deep breath. Damn, this woman is making my head spin. “Nope,” I say. “I think we’re done with my overview. Your turn.”
“Well, hang on. We should probably add you like pirate-themed tattoos.” She motions to my forearms.
“Good point. Oh, and I’m a huge sports fan. Add that, too. You like sports, I hope and pray?”
“Ilovesports.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Soccer.”
“Soccer? Well, shit. That’s the only sport I don’t follow. But that’s okay—it just means I’m a free agent. So what soccer team am I gonna start rooting for with you? The L.A. Galaxy?”
“Hell no. River Plate, baby.Viva la Banda.”
I look at her blankly.
“They’re one of the two biggest teams in Buenos Aires. My dad was born there.”
“Really? That’s cool. I’d love to go to Argentina someday. My sister’s been to Buenos Aires. She absolutely loved it.”
“Yeah, that’s my town. It’s the best.” She leans her elbow onto the bar and shoots me a sexy smile. “Holy hell, you’re good at this, Ryan.”
“At what?”
“This flirting thing. You’realmostmaking me forget about the flock of bald eagles flapping around in my stomach.”
I lean my elbow onto the bar in mimicry of her position. “Making you feel relaxed is all part of my master plan.”
“Oh, you’ve got a master plan, do you?”
“Of course.”
“What is it, if I may ask?”
I’m suddenly having crazy thoughts that simply can’t be said out loud. “Well, getting you into my bed, of course,” I say smoothly. It’s a gross oversimplification of what I’m actually thinking, of course—but a true statement, nonetheless. “There’s no particular time frame for execution of my master plan, by the way,” I add. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a marathon, not a sprint, baby.”
She assesses me for a long, heated moment, until, finally, she raises her glass and levels me with burning eyes. “A toast,” she whispers, a sexy smile dancing on her lips. “To master plans.”
8
Ryan
“Enough about me,” I say to Samantha, putting my refilled drink back onto the bar. “Let’s hear your ‘brief overview’ now.”
Samantha takes a long sip of her new drink, puts it down on the bar, and exhales. “I’m twenty-seven. A Virgo, though I know nothing about astrology other than the fact that Virgos effing rock—well, if you think people who are ‘kind, perfectionist, hard-working, dependable, and practical’ effing rock.”
“That’s the list of Virgo traits?”
