Same drink, same time, same absolutely smoking-hot guy she’d spotted an hour before. One barstool away. When she set the glass down, she said, “Jinx.”
“Jinx,” he repeated.
“Does that mean you owe me a drink?” she asked, and then nearly clasped her hand over her mouth. But instead, she went with it. “Sorry, that’s pretty much close to the cheesiest pick-up line ever.”
His lips curved slightly into a grin. “Does that mean you’re trying to pick me up?”
She laughed, and shook her head. The silvery metal surface of the bar revealed a rush of red racing to her cheeks as she answered. “No.”
She wasn’t, right? Those words had just tumbled out accidentally, not because she’d seen him earlier and memorized his face, and not because one quick glance at Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected had her adding him to an arsenal of possible late-night ammunition to feed her active fantasy life.
Very, very active, and she fed it regularly. With Tumblr, with toys, and with wild images of pleasure.
“That’s too bad then,” he said, and his voice was deep, with the slightest rasp to it, like velvet that had a rough edge. That edge in it sent goose bumps down her spine. Or maybe it was his words, the hint of possibility to them.
“Is it? Too bad?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, shifting her body language, one hundred percent aware that she was getting her flirt on.
“Not just too bad. It would be a travesty.”
She brought her hand to her heart, playing along. “How sad. I’d hate to be responsible for a disaster of that degree.”
“You could avert it, then,” he said dryly, arching an eyebrow, then taking another swallow of his drink. The sight of his lips on the glass had her mind galloping off to a naughty land, because those lips looked delicious. Soft and kissable, while the rest of him looked hard and strong. She liked the way his tie was loosened, and his jacket draped over his chair. A businessman in repose.
“I could, couldn’t I? If I were interested in avoiding such a sad turn of events.”
“Are you, though? Interested?” he asked.
Michelle was almost certain a butterfly had taken off in her belly because her stomach flipped, and it was primed to flop again. “I’m getting there,” she said playfully, enjoying the back and forth, the very fine layer of innuendo that lined this conversation like a cool evening mist after a hot day. She brought her glass to her lips and took another drink, hoping it would have the same effect on him that his sip had had on her.
“Excellent,” he said, giving her a quick, appreciative nod. “So . . . are you having a good evening?”
“I am, as a matter of fact. Productive day, energetic evening, perhaps a satisfying night overall,” she said, and he chuckled softly when she said satisfying.
“What would make your night satisfying?” he asked, his cool blue gaze pinned on her. Then he raked his eyes over her, and she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the possibility that he liked what he saw.
“I enjoy a satisfying conversation.” She threw down the gauntlet. He seemed a good sparring partner.
“Let’s satisfy you conversationally then,” he said, picking up the challenge easily. “Now, I could ask you what you do for a living, but everyone does that. I could ask what brings you to this hotel, but that’s also trite. Instead, why don’t we talk about something that people don’t usually discuss. For instance, what is your favorite body part?”
She burst into laugher at his out-of-left-field question and the completely deadpan manner he asked it in, but then quickly grabbed the baton of the conversation. “On me, I would have to say it’s my elbows. I have absolutely amazing elbows,” she said, crooking her arm and showing him her elbow.
“Wow. You’re right. Those are glorious elbows. Smooth and soft, and yet pointy, too. And they make the arm move.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” she said, demonstrating playfully. “And my second choice would be my right butt cheek.”
“Not the left one?”
“Well, they both are pretty nice.”
He raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “I bet they’re spectacular,” he said, that sexy gravel of his voice sending a charge through her.
“And you?” she asked, as her skin heated up. “Your favorite body part?”
“I’ve always been told I have great ears. It’s weird, but women sometimes stop me on the street to comment on my ears,” he said, shaking his head in faux wonderment as she laughed again.
“They are really nicely shaped,” she said, pointing to his ears, then looking him in the eyes, before offering a true compliment, as he’d seemed to do for her. “But you have beautiful eyes.”
He flashed her a quick smile. “Thank you. So do you. And legs. And arms. And lips. And eyes. Okay, here’s another question,” he said, after he moved through the sweet litany of compliments, as if he wanted to give them but was careful to not be more forward until he knew if she wanted it.
“Wait,” she said. “You didn’t research interesting questions to ask women at bars, did you?”
“What if I did?”
“Did you?”
“No.” He held up his hands as if to say he was innocent.
“The favorite-body-part question just came naturally to you?”
“A lot of things come naturally to me,” he said, with a confidence in his voice that bordered on cocky. She kind of liked it. More than she thought she would. He leaned back in the bar stool, his whole demeanor assured and relaxed, as if nothing could throw him off his game. She was willing to bet he was in a profession that valued this sort of mindset. She was also pretty sure this was an ideal mindset for random bar chatter.