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Jesus, he’s big. Probably close to six-three if I had to guess, and his broad chest and shoulders only add to his massive presence, filling out his expensive tailored suit like a Greek god.

His light brown hair is styled neatly in loose waves. He stares back at me with warm, rich brown eyes that remind me of melted chocolate.

He studies me for a moment, dark eyes flashing as his lips pull into a smirk. “What does being a man have to do with anything?”

I fidget with my martini glass before taking another sip. “Let’s just say, I think men tend to think more highly of their abilities…and the ones who want to do something like that—” I nod toward the couple on stage. “They’re probably trying to manufacture the feeling of power that they don’t have in their lives.” I shrug. “But that’s just a hunch.”

“Well, aren’t you romantic?” he teases, his dimples popping on his cheeks. “Not all men are selfish pricks, you know,” he says, lifting his glass. “But I don’t blame you for being cautious.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, let me guess, you’re the kind of guy who knows how to take care of a woman…” I gesture to the couple on stage. “You’re the exception, right?”

He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he takes a sip of his drink. “You said it, not me.”

Oh, this guy has game.

Well, as attractive as he is, it’s going to take more than a couple of generic lines to impress me.

“Does that work on all the women?” I say, turning my attention back to the show.

“Most of the time, yes…” He squints, cocking his head to the side as he seems to study me. “You look so familiar…”

My stomach tightens into a ball of knots.

“Have you been in here before?”

“Once or twice,” I say with a wink before downing the last of my martini.

He pulls out the stool next to me. “Mind if I join you?”

I don’t know what it is about this man and his quiet confidence, but I can feel my body coming alive in places that I thought were dormant.

“Somebody’s sure of themselves,” I tease, sitting back in my seat.

My gaze is transfixed on his hands as he carefully rolls up his shirt sleeves, every fold meticulous and neat. The act is damn-near indecent. I feel my neck growing warm.

All I can think about is if he’s that meticulous with his shirt sleeves…

“I’ve been around the block enough times to know what a woman looks like when she’s interested.” He flashes me a dimpled grin and winks. And I swear I feel that grin all the way to my toes.

“Am I wrong?”

I clear my throat, trying to find my cool. “Perhaps you’ve mistaken my curiosity for interest?”

“Perhaps,” he says with a shrug. Catching the bartender’s attention, he holds up two fingers. “How can I satisfy your curiosity? What would you like to know?”

I bite my lip. On the surface, he seems like a nice, charismatic guy. Clean-shaven. Impeccably dressed. Not a hair out of place. He looks like the kind of man Augustus tries so hard to be…

But I have to admit, there’s something different about this guy… If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost believe the whole good-guy charade.

“Well, for starters, you don’t look like someone you find at a sex club.”

“Why is that? What is a sex club patron supposed to look like?”

“I don’t know, more rugged, I guess.” I give him a careful once-over, paying extra attention to his ring finger, looking for any hint of an indentation or tan line. “Maybe it’s the dimples, the clean-cut shave, the expensive suit… You look far too…domesticated for a place like this.”

“I’m not married if that’s what you’re implying.” He holds up his hand and wiggles his fingers to give me a better look, that smug grin on full display.

To my utter surprise, I’m filled with a wave of relief at that fact and that he didn’t ask me the same question. I push down the guilt I’m feeling even though I know my marriage is a sham.