“I should find my?—”
“Will you let me buy you a drink? It’s the least the house can do.”
I want to decline, but it’s a club. Practically everyone’s drinking, and so have I. However, I’m clearly sober, so I can’t say I’m cutting myself off because I’ve had too much. Iaccept, telling myself it’s an opportunity to get in some up-close reconnaissance.
“Thank you.”
We walk to the bar together. As we do, I consider how he dropped his name so easily. It’s not like I think he lurks in the shadows. Obviously, he has no qualms about being out in public. But I wonder how he knew his name would register with the guy. It’s not a stretch that it intimidated the man once he knew who Alejandro was. His size wasn’t enough, but those two words turned everything around.
“What would you like?”
“A bay breeze neat, please.”
I hate ice in my drinks. I may sound American tonight, but I’m Italian through and through. He orders, and I keep my gaze locked on the bartender. It’s habit. I don’t believe Alejandro’ll have his employee drug me, but I’m always cautious. Considering I want nothing more than the chance to drug him, I see the hypocrisy for what it is.
“Have you been here before?”
“A couple times.” That’s a lie.
“You weren’t dancing with that last group of women you hung out nearby. You stuck closer to the other ones.”
Fuck!
“I’m in town to visit my grandmother. She goes to bed at eight, so I decided to go out. I don’t mind doing things on my own, but I know to stick close to other women. Men usually don’t harass me when I do.”
“You don’t know anyone in the city?”
We’re in Manhattan, and I know that’s what he means by “the city.”
“Not really. I know the night life is better here, so I came over from Brooklyn.”
I didn’t.
“I hope you were having a good time before this.”
“I was. I am.”
I shoot him a flirtatious glance before staring into my glass. I angle my body, so I rest one elbow on the bar, and the other arm presses against my left breast as I sip my drink. The pressure lifts it until it’s practically spilling over the top of my halter dress. His gaze doesn’t falter, but I’m certain he notices.
“Where are you from?”
“Originally? Near New Brunswick. But I live in Boulder now.”
“Escaped the polluted armpit of America for the wide-open space and mountains.”
“Not a fan of Jersey?”
“Is anyone?”
He grins, and his teeth sparkle.
Motherfucking sparkle!
They don’t look like veneers or like he whitens them. He was just blessed with great teeth. He was blessed with great everything. The dim light on the yacht—mood lighting—kept me from seeing how bright they are. I also thought he had brown eyes, but he actually has hazel-brown. They have slivers of green and gold in them. They pin me in place, and I could easily forget my mission. I could believe he’s genuinely flirting with me.
I chuckle at his nonchalant yet snide comment about New York’s least favorite neighbor. At my lighthearted reaction, his grin turns into a full smile. His eyes crinkle, and a dimple appears in his left cheek.
No man should be this attractive.
