Luttrell held up his hands. “Just calling it like I see it. You need sex, Carson. Look around you.” He waved magnanimously, not about to give up without a closing argument. “This place is full of beautiful women. Let yourself go. Talk to someone, for Christ’s sake. Share adrink. See where it goes. Sunday’s your birthday, man. You’ve gotta live a little before you’re too old.”
His birthday. Thirty-one. Carson had almost succeeded in forgetting that insignificant date. “You know how I feel about birthdays.” He looked his friend straight in the eye. “Do you understand me?” If anyone,anyone,had any ideas about a birthday party, Carson intended to quash that little scheme here and now. He hadn’t celebrated a birthday since ... he’d turned sixteen. More of the past tried elbowing its way into his head, but he crammed it back into that dark place he refused to visit.
“Yeah. Yeah.” Luttrell jerked his head toward the clutch of patrons on his right. “Check it out. Forget the brunette. That lady in the red dress is seriously hot, bro. She’s looked your way at least twice. Make a move.” He leaned close again. “It’s that easy. All you have to be is willing.”
Carson shook his head. “I find it absolutely fascinating that you can read minds.” He picked up his drink but paused short of setting the glass to his lips. “Must come in handy when speculating how a jury’s leaning.”
Luttrell rolled his eyes. “You won’t let me throw you a birthday bash, at least let me get you off on the right foot tonight. I’ve pointed out two gorgeous ladies. Take your pick. You should celebrate putting the past to rest.”
“Back off or I’m out of here.” Maybe ten minutes more and Carson was gone anyway.
“All right, all right.” Luttrell frowned. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and withdrew his cell phone. After checking the text message on the screen, he puffed out a bothered breath. “Dammit. Gotta go. Opposing counsel on one of my cases wants to have drinks.” He tossed a couple of bills onto the counter. “Remember what I said, Carson. I didn’t strong-arm you into coming here for nothing. Let go. Just this once. It’ll make a new man out of you.”
Carson didn’t acknowledge his final remarks, just let him go. Instead, he stared into his glass, his mind wandering back to Stokes and the deal Wainwright had made in exchange for his confession. Two unsolved high-profile murder cases, including Carson’s family, were now closed. They had their man.
Ask yourself if you’ll ever really know what happened.
Carson banished the echo. He shouldn’t have let the bastard get to him. It was over. No more questions.
“Drinking alone is never a good sign.”
Carson turned to the woman who had moved up beside him. Long blond hair. Wide blue eyes. Lush lips. Before he could stop the move, his attention wandered lower. A great body packaged in a skin-tight red dress.
Wasn’t this one of the women Luttrell had pointed out just minutes ago? The lady was definitely hot, and he couldn’t deny an immediate attraction. But that wasn’t going to stop Carson from going home alone.
“You’re right,” he said in response to her allegation, “drinking alone isn’t a good sign.”Even when it’s only sparkling water,he didn’t qualify. “That’s why I always call it a night while it’s still early enough to accomplish something meaningful.” Like reading briefs and reviewing cases.
The lady smiled, somehow managing to hold on to the attention he’d fully intended to withdraw. “You look like the kind of man who searches for meaning in all that he does.” She flashed that wickedly alluring smile for the bartender as he paused for her order. “Vodka. Straight up.”
While Carson found himself watching her every move, the bartender poured her drink. She picked up her glass and tapped it against Carson’s.
“Cheers.”
Maybe he’d allowed Luttrell’s comments to get under his skin. Had to be the reason his fixation with her profile and watching her sip the vodka persisted. All five senses abruptly yawned and stretched, making him keenly aware of the music, the cool glass in his hand, and her unique and stirringly subtle scent.
Six months. No sex in six months. Too long. The power of suggestion was undermining his self-discipline. He’d written the book on using that very tactic in the courtroom. Where was his ruthless willpower now?
She turned fully toward him then. “So.” She steadily contemplated Carson, amping up the tension working its way through his body. “What deeper meaning are you searching for tonight?”
Just go.
Carson opened his mouth to bid her good night, but the words vanished somewhere between his brain and his tongue. Possibly due to the way she looked at his mouth in anticipation of his reply or just maybe because his own gaze kept venturing tohermouth.
Those voluptuous lips slid into another smile. “Oh, I see. You’re here forthat.”
Shit. Had she seen something in his eyes? Noted some flash of interest on his face? He really was slipping here.
Time for polite regrets and a prompt exit.
“As stimulating as this conversation is”—he snagged some cash from his pocket and tossed it on the counter—“I have to be going.” He didn’t do relationships or one-night stands. He did work.
“Your friend said it was your birthday or something?” she asked before he could make his escape. “Did your party run out of steam already?”
Now Carson was beginning to get the picture. Damn Keller Luttrell. “Birthday parties are vastly overrated.”
Her mouth puckered into a sexy pout. “You’ve never had a birthday party?”
He hesitated, silently chastised himself for continuing the conversation considering Luttrell had likely scripted the scene line by line. “Not since I was sixteen.” He closed out the bittersweet memories that instantly took advantage of that line of questioning.Just go.He needed work to forget about the past ... and birthdays. And sexy ladies in fuck-me red dresses.
