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As soon as the bartender presented him with a glass full of amber liquid, he took a sip. The bartender turned toward me, her eyes still lit up from having a stunning stranger inside the place.
“Would you like another shot of tequila?” she asked.
“I would. Thank you,” I answered succinctly, uncertain the newcomer was the kind of man who would enjoy playing pool. I wasn’t in the mood for casual bantering, which was what usually happened in these types of situations. The single time I’d been drawn into a brief and not so hot tryst, few words had been spoken at all. That was the way I preferred it.
I hadn’t cared if the man had been a nuclear scientist or lineman. All I’d cared about was whether or not he was good between the sheets.
Sadly, he’d been just okay, barely satisfying the itch.
“Here you go,” the bartender said as she slid the shot glass across the bar. Marty knew better than to ask about my job when I was in the bar.
I took a sip, glancing up at the television located over the shelves, suddenly conscious of the fact the mystery man was studying me intently.
“Can I help you?” I finally asked, slightly irritated only because that was my typical nature.
“I doubt anyone can help me.”
“Then what are you staring at?” I asked, slowly turning my head toward him. Holy crap. He wasn’t just gorgeous. He was perfect, as if the god of war had merged with a model stepping off the cover of a GQ magazine. Rugged. Long eyelashes. A buff bod and eyes that were like dark pools of quicksand pulling you into the very depths. I was thrown by his beauty, his full lips meant for kissing.
What was I doing?
He smirked and all it did was add another layer of complexity and lack of warmth. But somehow that was sexy as hell.
“A gorgeous woman doing everything in her power to ignore her beauty. That’s a crime in my book.” There was something terribly unnerving about the sweeping heat of fire nestled in his gaze. He narrowed his eyes, allowing them to slide ever so slowly down the length of me, his slight scowl transforming into a look of lust.
“A crime?” I huffed. “You are full of yourself.”
“I know what I like. I know what I want. Nothing stands in my way.”
Was this jerk kidding me? He’d just pushed his luck. I inched closer, smirking as I allowed my gaze to fall ever so slowly down his chest to his arm, trailing it to his long fingers and the way they held the thick tumbler in his hand. He oozed of sex appeal and money, neither attractive at this point. Even his watch, a classic De Bethune, the price tag well over one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, told me one too many things about the man.
He was an egotistical jerk.
Some women would find that attractive, falling head over heels in lust with him. Not this girl. Nope. I could see through his façade, the man someone who believed he deserved to have everything he wanted. That didn’t include me. All bets were off.
“Now why is it that you believe I’m ignoring my beauty, Mr. Pompous?”
He chuckled, obviously amused at what I’d said. He took another sip of his drink, giving me a slanted look before turning his head. “Because you’re doing everything to hide yourself behind dull clothes and boots that should be worn by a lumberjack instead of a sinfully gorgeous girl. You pay little attention to your hair, which is a glorious shade I might add, preferring not to waste any time on makeup. I think that’s because you’re terrified of being hurt again, refusing to buy into the whole woman needs man gig. So, you surrender yourself with your collection of vibrators, which, by the way, has become passe to you. You long for a powerful man’s touch, which will allow you to set yourself free from those rusty self-imposed chains that have dug into your beautiful porcelain skin. Tell me, perfecto rayo de sol, how close am I to the truth?”
Dear God, I felt the heat creeping up on my cheeks. I was thankful the lighting in the bar was dim or he’d known he’d pegged me far too well. I was ready to stomp on his foot then issue a hard jab under his strong jaw.
“In case you were wondering, I called you a perfect ray of sunshine.”
“I speak Spanish, jerkoff. Is that the way you attract women? By issuing backhanded compliments wrapped in bullshit?”
He shifted his barstool in my direction, pressing his hand against his chest. “Ouch. That hurts.”
“Uh-huh. I doubt anything hurts you. You’re one of those kinds of men.” Maybe it was wrong, even sinful, but I was having way too much fun yanking his chain. Granted, the man was the most arrogant person I’d ever met. His aura exuded his power and domination, as if he had a bullwhip attached to his side. I could almost picture the way he was with women, beckoning them with a single finger, acting as if they should easily come at his beck and call. Well, not this girl. I didn’t care about the bet any longer, the sordid deal I’d made.
This was a test of wills, a battle of the stronger sex. And I was enjoying myself tremendously.
“And what kind of man is that?”
I gave him the same heated onceover, yawning on purpose afterwards. “You know the type. They think their shit doesn’t stink while expecting women to fall at their feet, begging for attention, pleading for their touch.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“That’s what I know you’re doing.”
