“You really need to work on your game.”
“Noted. Now, what shall it be?”
He expected here to say some kind of fruity drink in a martini glass, like most women he came across in the City of Angels, but instead she reached over, grabbed his beer, and took a swig.
She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, then smacked her lips. “That’s good. I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Make that two,” he said to the bartender, who was still studying him as she walked off.
“So, Jamison,” she said, shocking the shit out of him. Sheclearly knew his name, not his professional name but the name his parents used.
He glanced around the bar, looking for his agent to pop out and say, “Gotcha!” But when he met her gaze, there wasn’t an ounce of deception there. She really had come here to meet him, which made him wonder what the actual fuck was going on.
“Why did you agree to this date?” she continued. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who needs to be matched.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, you’re…” She waved a hand down his body.
“I’m what?”
She gave him a challenging look. “You know what you are.”
“Charming? Sexy? Your kind of guy?”
“I was thinking more… confident erring toward cocky? And conventionally handsome,” she said. It didn’t sound like a compliment.
“Are you not into conventionally handsome men?”
She held her hands up to show off her chipped nails. “My go-to style is a ponytail, jeans and a tank top. I prefer moisturizer to makeup, and I’d rather spend my night demoing than dating. I’m as far from conventional as a person can get.”
“I’m a sucker for a good ponytail. You’re too pretty for makeup. And I’d demo with you any night of the week.”
She was so startled by his answer, she actually blushed before looking down at the bar top. She took great care aligning his coaster with the counter’s edge. It was the first time she’d broken eye contact since she’d sat down. It made him wonder what kind of assholes she’d dated in the past.
“I feel like we’re bordering on talking about my box again.”
“Angel, I can talk about your box all night long, but I’d hate to come off as a conventional tool.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I thought you said you didn’t lie.”
“I don’t,” she challenged. “When I said conventionally handsome, I just meant that most women in this bar would sell their soul to be sitting in my chair.”
“Let me guess, you’re not most women.”
“Like I said, maybe once upon a time, but I’m more focused on my business at the moment. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for dating. If I was even interested in dating. Which I am not.”
She might not want to dip her toes in the dating pool, but he was pretty certain she found him attractive—conventionally or otherwise. There was only one way to find out.
Decker leaned in so that his breath skated along the curve of her ear as he whispered, “So you’ve said. Yet you’re still here.”
He felt her shiver at the contact and that was all the clarification he needed.
“Only because that is a damn fine stout. How could I pass that up?”
“Then it has nothing to do with the company?”
