I put out my hand and she shook it, holding my palm longer than was necessary.
She looked into my eyes for a second, then sucked in a breath and dropped my hand. She was feeling this too. This connection, this chemistry, whatever the hell it was.
“I’m Zane,” I said. “And you are?”
Her mouth curved into a deliciously teasing smile. “Not interested in having a conversation with you?”
I fought down a laugh. She hadn’t shown me this vicious sense of humor last night and it felt a little bit like she was accidentally showing me something real.
I teased, “Have I left you dissatisfied in some way that I can apologize for?”
She looked me up and down, that playful glint dancing in her eyes. “You’ve got trouble written all over you, and I make it a point to stay away from trouble. Oh. And I don’t fuck musicians.”
“Whoa there.” I put my hands up defensively. “Who said I want to fuck you?”
Her mouth tilted up again, a ghost of a smile. “Don’t you?”
God, she was beautiful.
“Why don’t you fuck musicians?”
She slid the olive from her empty martini glass between her lips and popped it off the toothpick into her mouth. She watched me watching the move, knowing exactly what effect it would have on me.
Goddamn did I love a confident woman.
“Well that really depends…are you asking why I don’t fuck them for business or why I don’t fuck them for pleasure?”
Whatever answer gets you to keep saying fuck.
Before I could say another word, a guy who looked like he was at least a decade older than her and made of money came up and handed her a new martini.
“Everything okay, babe?” He stroked a finger up her arm and I saw her jaw tense, but she cocked an eyebrow at me, chin raised in challenge, just daring me to say something.
She took a sip of her drink and tilted her head, displeasure written all over her face. “Bill, this is vodka.”
The guy rushed to take it from her. “I’m sorry about that. I’m sure I asked for gin. Let me go have them make a new one.”
She avoided looking at me. Surely, she wasn’t ashamed?
“The drink wasn’t wrong, was it?” I asked.
Her eyes swiveled to mine and I saw the surprise before she could plaster her bored expression back in place. “How did you know?”
I winked at her. “I can tell when a lady is faking it.”
She rolled her eyes.
Got any more cheesy lines you want to get out, Zane? Might as well drop them all at once.
“Why would you pretend your drink was wrong? Didn’t have anything to do with wanting to keep talking to me?”
She shrugged. “He likes to feel useful.”
I laughed. “And sending him back and forth to the bar is the best task you can come up with?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Can you think of something better?”
“A great many things, but none of them I want to think about him doing. He’s your…date?”
