The bar is relatively quiet and I find an empty stool immediately. The bartender makes his way over and welcomes me with a smile. Everything about his demeanor is friendly and he’s cute but I’m guessing he’s quite young—twenty-three,maybe twenty-four. He looks familiar, but I don’t know anyone here.
“Good evening, beautiful. What can I get you?” The bartender asks.
“I’ll have a dirty martini, please.”
He looks at me with slightly narrowed eyes for a second and I frown in return. That was weird. “Sure thing, coming up.”
He doesn’t move very far to gather the ingredients that are needed and mixes the cocktail in front of me. “So what’s a beautiful lady like you doing all alone in a place like this?” he says with a lopsided smirk and a twinkle in his eye. I roll my eyes at the cheesy line, although I’m sure it works on some of the women. I’ll bet he gets his share just by flashing them his charming smile. “I’m just staying for a few days, visiting relatives.”
“No husband?” he says surprisingly, glancing at my left hand.
“Nope, no husband.”
His smile seems to grow wider and I really hope he’s not going to chat me up. Yes, he’s cute, but so are puppies and kittens. That doesn’t mean I want one.
“You don’t look like a gambler. You going to try your hand at poker?”
“I don’t look like a gambler?” I say with a little laugh. “And what would a gambler look like?”
“There’s something about you that tells me you’re too savvy to gamble your money away.”
“Is that a line you use on all your lady customers?” I quirk an eyebrow at him.
“Ha, not all of them. Only the very attractive ones,” he says with a wink and I roll my eyes. “Voila, your dirty martini, Madame.”
“Why, thank you, sir. It looks …” I take a sip of the clear cocktail “…and tastes delicious.”
“You’re welcome.” He leans his elbow on the bar top and rests his chin on his hand. “So what are you going to try your hand at?”
“She’s busy. Get back to work, Spike.”
I know who it is before I turn around, his commanding voice is unmistakable, but I turn anyway and find myself drinking in the sight of Denham King. His stance is protective as he glowers at the poor bartender. I follow his pointed stare behind the bar. Spike doesn’t argue but flashes Denham a sharp look before walking away, shaking his head.
When Denham is satisfied that his unspoken message has been heard loud and clear, he turns to me with a grin and shows his dimple that is so cute I’m sure he only saves it for special occasions. He rests one hand on the bar top and one on the back of my bar stool so I’m effectively caged.
“Miss. Jamesson, what a pleasure to find you here.”
“You scared the poor bartender off before I had the chance to pay for my drink.”
“It’s on the house.” He chuckles. “Well, it’s on Spike actually but he doesn’t know it yet.”
“He was just being friendly.”
“Well, he can just be friendly to someone else then, can’t he?”
“And what if I wanted to talk to him?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Do you want to?”
“No, but—”
“Well, that’s settled then, isn’t it?” He lowers himself onto the vacant stool next to me, tipping his chin and signaling to Spike to bring him a drink. He’s arrogant, self-assured and I’m sure he’s a man that always gets what he wants. But despite these things there’s an attractiveness about him I can’t explain. He’s sexy, very sexy, and the way he angles his strong, toned body toward me makes me feel like I’m the only person in this room.
Looking contemplative, he traces my wrist with his index finger, running it along my diamond bracelet. The contact is unexpected and I try to hide my sharp intake of breath.
“Hmmmm…diamonds,” he muses. His eyes sweep across my décolleté, along my neck and up to my ears. “You should wear more diamonds. Their beauty and sparkle match yours.”
I nervously moisten my now dry lips with my tongue. I’m uncertain how to react to compliments. In the past, they’ve been thrown around so loosely without any genuine feeling behind them, so it still feels alien to me.
