“The sour.”
“I’d have thought you were the strong.”
“That as well. But you’d be well to remember the sour. Every cocktail needs that bite.”
“And you’re the man to provide that bite?”
His grin was dirty, the glint in his eye almost enough to have me strip in the middle of the bar.
“Only if you can take it.”
I took another sip, the alcohol hitting me quickly. “You’ve warned me off you already. Twice.”
“And yet you’re still here.” He walked around the bar, muscles pulling and contracting, his T-shirt almost obscene, too tight across his chest and back.
I hadn’t had this reaction before. This chemical overload that made me want to find the nearest flat surface and not care if it was in public.
It was lust. I knew the signs. I’d seen them when I’d watched Lala with Carl, or other friends who’d found a man and sometimes made bad choices.
Sometimes good ones.
Gunnar had been a bad choice, but I hadn’t known that until his wife had walked into my office. Even then, before that, I’d never had what I had now.
With Gunnar, I’d felt like he was the sort of man I should be dating: serious, intelligent, committed to his job and future.
A shame he hadn’t been committed to his wife.
Tommy was everything I’d avoided.
“Despite myself, I’m still here.”
He sat down on the bar stool next to me, a glass with a couple of fingers of whisky in front of him.
“You should listen to yourself then. Here isn’t a safe place to be.” His eyes were dark brown, an eddy of chocolate and onyx. They glistened, and I couldn’t help but imagine they were a portal to some sort of lair where good girls went to turn bad.
My breasts felt heavy, my nipples had turned to sharp points. Even I could hear that my breathing was more erratic.
He laughed and moved back a touch, giving me more space than I wanted. His hair had a curl to it, and it was longish on top, dropping slightly onto his forehead. I wanted to lean over and smooth it away, but I didn’t have that right.
“Why?”
“Because girls like you don’t deserve men like me. We’re everything you think we are and a whole lot of heartache more.”
“Maybe I want that heartache.” I wasn’t sure I did, but right now, with the alcohol bubbling in me, I wasn’t sure I didn’t either.
“Trust me, you don’t.” He reached a hand over and tugged a tendril of my hair that had dropped out of the messy bun I’d carelessly done.
His finger caught my face, burning the skin and setting everywhere on fire. “You’re not doing a very good job of persuading me.”
Tommy laughed, glancing away from me, as if he couldn’t believe my words. “Maybe I’m not trying to do a good job of persuading you, Lady Jay. Maybe this is the disclaimer so I can’t hold myself responsible for what happens when everything ends.”
It was then that my heart fractured a little. A crack that I knew right then would never heal. This was the gamble, more than Gunnar had ever been – but then I’d never expected him to break my heart and I wasn’t sure that he actually had.
This was a warning. Tommy was giving me no promises, this was only going to end one way, and that way wouldn’t be of my choosing.
But then in three months I was heading to New York, and I had no idea when I’d come back here. Maybe never.
“You’re not responsible for the choices I make.”
