Page 8 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

The bartender knows his stopwatch trick. He’s quick and cool with every line. He probably has a slew of notches carved on his bedpost, making me one more rabbit. This guy is looking for a one-nighter and nothing more.

A convenient prospect, since Natalie had only one night to give.

Get real, Nat, she chastised herself. You’ve never had a one-night stand in your entire life. You’ve been a serial monogamist since your first kiss with Brad Moran in seventh grade.

Then again, didn’t he suggest a night of firsts?

She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and reached for her drink, hoping the gesture conveyed nonchalance. If he wanted her, she’d make him work for it. A couple of martinis and some zingy banter were a nice start but certainly wouldn’t close the deal.

Mr. Crown watched her with calculating, scheming eyes. He reached behind the bar and grabbed the bartender's utility scissors. Before she could say a word or even realize what was happening, he’d whacked off half his tie.

"Oh my God!" Natalie’s hand shot to her mouth. "What the hell? Why on earth did you do that?"

He loosened the tie’s knot, the raveled ends now lying limp against his dress shirt. "Because it’s hideous and atrocious."

Her cheeks flamed. "But I didn't mean that you should⁠—”

A choir of loud and lively voices erupted from the door. A dozen burly men in matching rugby jerseys paraded into the pub, heads and fists held high, serenading the crowd with a victory song. Scrum style, they pushed their way to the bar—a wrecking ball of camaraderie. Before Natalie could fully process the scene, Mr. Crown shot to his feet, his arm shooting directly over her shoulder. He blocked the beefy arm of a boisterous reveler seconds before it would have smashed the side of her head.

“Oh, sorry, mate,” the man apologized. “Miss.” He nodded at Natalie, then turned back to his friends.

“Are you okay?” Mr. Crown asked, his eyes narrowing with concern.

Natalie exhaled shakily. “Yes, thanks to your quick reflexes.”

Wow! Roman wouldn’t have noticed. And I’d be concussed.

“You’re sure?” He scrutinized her closely.

“I’m fine, really.”

He motioned to a small table in a dark corner. "Might be safer over there. What do you say?"

"Only if you give me a headstart." She extended her foot, revealing the broken boot.

"Some new avant-garde fashion trend?" he questioned.

"More like proof that price doesn't equal quality. My heel broke getting out of a car."

"Graceful," he teased. "If Eddie has a machete, I could whack off the other heel. Make you a pair of flats if you like."

"You're really into destruction of personal property, aren't you?"

He didn't answer but grabbed their martinis with a smirk. As she moved toward the table, Natalie clocked dozens of eyes tracking her unusual gait.

"Between your tie and my missing heel … " she said as he pulled out her chair.

"Why do you think I wanted to move over here? Concealment is everything." Even in the dim light, his eyes gleamed.

She bit her bottom lip, then said, “Right, because hacking off one’s tie is so discreet.”

“But think of the story you now have to share with friends later. This is rom-com level stuff here, lady.”

She eyed him skeptically. “A fan of rom-coms, are you?”

“I might be.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. I must know. What’s your favorite?”