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My mouth watered for the chance.
“God, I look that desperate?” she asked, a quaver in her voice. “I mean, maybe I am, but–”
Shit. No.
I reached out, took her hand to keep her from leaving. She looked back at me, then our joined hands.
“You look perfect,” I assured, sliding my thumb back and forth over her palm. “If you were trying to get that guy to wonder what you have on underneath that dress, it’s working.”
A pretty blush colored her cheeks. “Thanks for that, but I’m going home to wallow in chocolate and a romance book. At least then I know I’ll get lucky.”
My dick pulsed against the front of my jeans. “Stay. Forget about him, whatever his name is.”
“Ronald.”
“I’m Luke,” I said, using my real name. I set my free hand on my chest and held my breath, waiting for her to say You’re not Luke. You’re Shep Barnes, Dr. Dark and Dangerous and I want you to fuck me like you did Priscilla Sancillo from season one before she died when the elevator plummeted ten floors in the finale.
For the past five years, everyone on the planet knew me as Derek Dashwood, star of NYC ER, the hit TV show. No one knew my real name except my family, a few friends and anyone in Nebraska where I grew up. The name was a distinguisher for me, separating those who wanted to know me or Derek.
The one thing I wasn’t was Derek, whose image was controlled by my agent and a staff of public relations reps, or worse Shep Barnes, the oversexed neurosurgeon I played on TV, who wasn’t even real.
Neither were, in fact.
The show was so successful that people who saw me getting gas thought I was actually Dr. Barnes or Dr. Barnes grabbing takeout or Dr. Barnes at the dentist.
I wasn’t sure I was going to get anywhere with this gorgeous woman, but if I was going to fuck it up, I wanted to be struck down in a smoky blaze all by myself.
When she didn’t say anything, I continued. “This is when you tell me your name.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Aspen. My name is Aspen.”
“I’ll buy you another glass of wine or chicken wings or we can talk. Tell me about your family.” When she gave me a funny look, I reached out and grabbed the tabletop trivia device. “Or we can do trivia.”
She studied me for a moment, and I mentally fist pumped when she sat on the empty stool beside me.
“You don’t want to see me when I have more than one glass of wine. I don’t eat wings because I’m a vegetarian and I don’t talk to my family. Knowing that, you still want to be my blind date?”
“Gorgeous, I’ll be anything you want.” I leaned in even closer. I could smell her soft perfume. I definitely didn’t want her drunk and I didn’t care if she didn’t eat meat as long as she loved dick. “And if the night goes the way I think, you won’t need a romance book to get lucky.”
I’d make sure she got whatever she needed. My face between her thighs? Done. Orgasms while riding my dick? Done. Whatever made her hot, I’d fulfill.
Her blue eyes met mine. Held.
I could see the various colors of gold in her hair, watched the thrum of her pulse in her neck, noticed the glow of her skin. I wanted this woman like no one else. If I could throw her down on the bar and fuck her so every man in the place knew she was taken and taken well, I would.
“Muscat,” she said.
I blinked. For a second, I thought she sneezed, then I wondered if she was talking about the animal. “What?”
Her blue eyes met mine, tipping her head toward the trivia game. “C. The capital of Oman is Muscat. As my blind date, we have to play together.” She gave my fingers a squeeze. “You’re right. I think we might get lucky.”
2
ASPEN
* * *
Luke kicked his hotel room door shut with his foot, not taking his lips off mine. Holy shit, could he kiss.
