Ironside aimed a kick at me under the table. I dodged it.
Elaine paused. “Yes?”
“Your phone number,” I replied.
“Don’t pay any attention to him, Elaine,” Ironside growled.
But her gaze lingered on me for several seconds longer than I expected. She actually eyed me up and down, like a juicy piece of meat. After a moment or two, she turned to face me with a hand on her hip.
“What makes you so special?”
Snickers rippled around the table. The corner of Ironside’s mouth twitched with an almost-smile and he inhaled a long drag on his cigar.
“Beg your pardon?” I countered.
“You’re not the first biker to ask for my number,” Elaine said. “In fact, it happens every shift. At least a dozen times.”
“Well, I could give you a laundry list of reasons why I’d make it worth your while, but I don’t think you want everyone listening in on our private conversation.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ironside groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Elaine didn’t look impressed.
“I’ve heard that line before, too. Try again when you can come up with something more original.”
I watched her walk away, drinking in the sight of her retreating figure. The sway of her hips. The smooth twist of her body when she dodged a near-collision with a biker and his bunny on their way to the back rooms.
Something about that woman pulled me to her like a magnet, even in a crowded room. I couldn’t put my finger on it though. She was perfectly ordinary in every way—nothing flashy to attract attention. No tight fitted jeans, or low-cut tops. Not even jewelry. Her honey-blonde hair was twisted up and pinned in place with a clip. And the only trace of makeup was a hint of eyeliner around her brilliant blue eyes, smoky and subtle.
As soon as Elaine had disappeared into the kitchen, I pushed out of my chair, following after her.
“Do you want to have that private conversation now?” I asked.
She huffed a laugh, shaking her head.
“Let me guess. You don’t get turned down very often, do you?”
“I’ve failed damn near everything I’ve set my hand to in life,” I replied. “So, I guess you could say I’m on good terms with the concept of rejection.”
Elaine finally squared up to face me.
“And yet, you can’t take no for an answer.”
I shifted closer until we were nearly nose to nose. She smelled sweet, like gingerbread houses and peppermint.
“You were eye-fucking me pretty hard a minute ago, Elaine,” I murmured. “And if we’re being technical about it, the wordnohasn’t actually left your lips.”
Elaine tilted her chin up. Her pupils dilated, dark with arousal.
“Most men around here just call me sweetheart. They don’t bother with my name.”
“Most men around here are Neanderthals.Sweetheartis one step above a wordless grunt. Consider yourself lucky.”
A twinkle of amusement gleamed in her eyes. She pressed her lips together to smother a smile. But she couldn’t hide the dimples that flashed in her cheeks.
“Does that make you better than the Neanderthals?” she countered.
I shrugged, reaching out to hook a finger in the belt loop of her jeans. Instead of pushing me away or retreating, she tipped forward on her toes, swaying closer.
