“You didn’t really answer my question,” he points out. “Don’t expect me to show my cards when you’re hiding your own. What are you looking for?”
A gong echoes softly around the room, announcing we have fifteen seconds. I bite my lip, looking at his mouth. Tempting. Distracting... bottom lip fuller than the top. Pretending to enjoy his kisses would be easy.
I doubt I’d have to fake it. I bet he knows how to use that mouth well. He’s handsome, clever, and interesting.
Fits the profile on that front.
I could tell him the truth, but he’d probably laugh in my face—a reminder of my idiocy I could certainly do without—so I evade him again, hoping the time runs out.
“You first.”
His eyes darken when I look up. There’s something exciting about him. He makes a broody bad-boy first impression, but he’s quick. Perceptive.
I’m sure he’ll win the bet he claims doesn’t exist. No guy in his right mind would admit he’s playing a game, but I see no other explanation why he’d come here.
One thing’s certain. He’ll leave with enough numbers to last a few weeks. My number won’t be among them, though. I’m on a mission.
No time for distractions or veering off course.
“I’m trying to survive the evening without committing double manslaughter on my brothers.” Colt swirls the whiskey in his glass, the ice almost melted. “What areyoulooking for, Audrey?” he emphasizes my name, sending goosebumps down my arms.
His tone brooks no argument. There’s subtle control there, an order that turns me on so suddenly it feels like he flipped a switch in my head.
The timer counts down to zero and the men stand up and move clockwise.
Except Colt. He stays where he is, deep brown eyes coaxing an answer.
“Not you,” I repeat.
The same shadow of a smile graces his features, and this time, he’s the one stealing a quick peek at my lips. Another hot flush hits my cheeks, neck, cleavage...
He’s trouble, that man.
“Keep the wine safe.” With a lingering look, he vacates the chair for the next man in line.
“I’m Alex.” The guy offers a nod, patting his nametag. “And you’re... Audrey.” He wrinkles his nose. “What do I call you? Aud? Drey?”
“Most people call me Addie.”
The drunken glaze in his light-blue eyes and two popped buttons on his white shirt betray he’s had enough whiskey tonight. “Interesting way to spend Friday evening, don’t you think?”
I visualize the cringe twisting my mother’s face if she heard Alex’s poor attempts at disguising his Texan accent.
She wouldnotapprove. I couldn’t care less, but selling the story will be easier if the man I arrive with is at least somewhat my type.
“I expected something different,” I admit, keeping the conversation going to avoid the awkward silence. “I’m pleasantly surprised. Five minutes isn’t long, but a few men have proved it’s enough to start off strong.”
Not you, unfortunately.
“First impressions take less than thirty seconds. If you didn’t expect this...” He gestures around, “...what did you expect?”
“Mostly comic book fans, a few self-loving businessmen, unsatisfied students—”
“I expected widows and divorcees.” He casts an assessing glance down my chest. “I’m pleasantly disappointed. I wish we had more than five minutes, but we don’t, so let’s see if I can start off strong. Tell me three things about yourself.”
Losing my ladylike manners, I tip half the red wine down the back of my throat. Considering Alex’s blue eyes and blonde hair don’t fit the description I gave my mother, I don’t share any significant details. These two five-minute dates we’ll share are all Alex will get from me.
“Let’s see... I love reading, jogging, and I’m afraid of spiders.” All plausible, but only one is true. “Your turn,” I add, wrestling with the wine cork that won’t budge.
