“It’s just that seeing the people I love all cozily coupled up only makes me more depressed about my own romantic future—plus, well, the family doesn’t exactly know that it all blew up with Trevor.”
He pretended to look stern. “Holding out on the family. That’s just not right.”
“Maybe not.” She drew her shoulders back. “But I don’t feel up to dealing with their loving concern at the moment, if you know what I mean.” She looked sad.
And he felt bad for teasing her. “I was just yanking your chain. Honestly, I hear you. Sometimes the people you love are the last ones you want in your business.”
She braced her elbow on the bar and propped her pretty chin on the heel of her hand. “Thank you.” She seemed to mean it.
He nodded in acknowledgment. “And I want you to know that your secret is safe with me.”
“Good.” Her expression changed, and he had no idea what she might be thinking as she warned, “Andyou’dbetter watch out.”
“Why is that?”
A slow grin curved that mouth, which was so damn inviting it probably ought to come with a warning. “I’m in a mood to forget all my troubles, and I have a weakness for players like you.”
Wait, he thought.Players?
He was no player—yeah, okay, maybe he’d come here tonight in hopes of meeting someone like her. And maybe, back in the day, he’d dated a lot of different women.
But since then, he’d grown up. He’d been married and divorced. He was older and wiser now, a man who’d learned enough about what mattered in life to want more from a woman than a one-night stand.
However...
Apparently, Vanessa Cruiselikedplayers. He didn’t want to mess with the program if she might be considering making his night.
“Vanessa, Vanessa,” he chanted under his breath.
“Hmm?”
“You’re so direct.”
She frowned. “Is it too much?”
“I like it.”
Her frown smoothed out. She signaled the bartender.
How many had she had? It mattered. No self-respecting man took advantage of a woman under the influence.
The bartender stepped close. Vanessa said, “Another club soda with lemon.” Jameson felt relief—and Vanessa must have seen something in his face. “What?”
“You’re not drinking.”
She gave him a half shrug. “I’m my own designated driver—and if I do get lucky here at the Get-Lucky Bar, I don’t want my senses dulled by alcohol. I want to be wide-awake and fully functional when things get thrilling, you hear what I’m saying?”
Did he ever.
She nodded her thanks at the bartender as he set her club soda in front of her. After that, she stared down into the drink for a second too long.
“Hey,” he said gently, and brushed a hand down her arm. “Where’d you go?”
Her soft shoulders slumped as she blew out a breath. “Just tell me the truth. Am I ridiculous?”
“Hell, no.” He said it with feeling. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
She looked at him sideways, kind of pooching out her lower lip, looking a little bit pouty and so damn cute. “It’s hard on the ego, being dumped for a complete lack of sex appeal.”
