Was it the booze? Or was it this man and all his alpha energy?
“Yeah, well, that idiot is my best friend.” He chuckled. “But I also work for him and a lot of his friends. I’m a sports agent.”
“Sexy.” The word slipped out; the buzz clearly getting to my head.
Definitely the booze.
A smirk ticked up the sides of Spencer’s mouth as he inched closer to me, his fingers reaching to tuck a strand of hair away from my eyes. “Tell me, Bella, what’s your type?”
“Tall, dark, and tattooed.” My teeth tugged on my bottom lip, my attraction for him only growing stronger.
“Looks like I’m checking some of your boxes, maybe I’m getting closer to knowing your name.” His finger dropped from my hair, his touch lingering on my skin as he traced the fine lines of the vines I had tattooed on the inside of my wrist.
“Maybe.” I smirked. “Do you have a type?”
“Bright eyes, independent, striking in every sense.” I was getting to the point of not knowing if it was just the alcohol, or if this man’s age gave him enough experience to know the perfect thing to say to a woman to make her melt.
“You’re dangerous, Spencer.”
“I could say the same about you.” When he crept closer, I pulled my glass to my lips, finishing off the little bit of whiskey I had left.
“I should get going. It’s getting late and I have an early shift tomorrow.” If I stayed, I truly feared I’d tell this man every one of my secrets.
“Can I walk you out?” His respect for my request to leave was a level of maturity I wasn’t used to. Normally, men my age begged me not to leave, hoping the more they’d liquor me up, the higher chance they’d have at taking me home.
“Yeah, that would be nice.” I pulled my phone from my clutch, ordering an Uber before we walked out.
With his spicy aroma beside me, he opened the heavy wooden door, the warm summer night air hitting us in the face.
“I’d love to see you again.” We turned to face each other; the words I dreaded lingering between us.
Tonight was amazing. A night unlike others I’d experienced. It wasn’t a planned date. It didn’t feel forced; it justhappened. It was comfortable and warm. Being around him was sexy and mysterious in ways I couldn’t explain.
It was everything I wanted to repeat but couldn’t. Not while I was making money by entertaining other men. Men he probably ran in the same circle as.
“I had a lot of fun.” I settled on.
“So much fun that you’re willing to give me your name?” His hand reached for my hair, combing it behind my ear. Hedidn’t drop his fingers. Instead, they lingered, weaving their way through my dark strands and behind my neck.
“Avery,” I said in a low whisper.
If I couldn’t see him again, the least I could do to thank him for his company was give him my name.
“Avery,” he leaned down to my ear, whispering as the headlights to my ride pulled up, “if an official first date is meant to happen, I’m sure I’ll run into you again.” The stubble from his beard brushed along my skin as his lips pressed lightly against my cheek, ripping away too quickly for my liking.
Spencer opened the back door, allowing me to slide in before leaning into the driver’s side window. “Cancel her ride, don’t charge her a thing and get her home safe,” he told the driver as he slipped him a folded up one-hundred-dollar bill.
Backing away from the car, he slid his hands into his pockets. “Bye, Bella,” fell from his lips, only making me wish I could have tasted his words without knowing I’d want more.
A normal Saturdaymorning for me consisted of a run down in the state-of-the-art gym, weightlifting on the days I really needed to get out my aggression, black coffee on my high-rise patio that looked onto the Strip, and catching up on any work that I didn’t get finished from the week prior—all before seven a.m.
Rolling out of bed this morning after receiving a text from my son, I realized it wouldn’t be a normal Saturday. After letting his text go unanswered last night, he wanted to know if we could meet for breakfast this morning. The least I could do was meet him and see what he wanted.
It was always something with him.
It paid off to live at the Waldorf, smack dab in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip. I could roll out of bed, throw some clothes on, and head down to one of the restaurants in my building.
When I told Jackson to meet me atZenby seven, I should have known seven would turn closer to eight. This was typical behavior for him.
