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The chicks stop laughing as I approach. One of them looks away. They were definitely talking about me. The redhead who wanted me pushes her chest out.
“Good evening, ladies,” I say with a slow grin.
The other women are all staring at me, but I don’t even see them. I zero in on the blonde. Her eyes are trained on me. They are bright, bright green. The brightest I’ve seen. Bedroom eyes.
“Enjoying the party?” I drawl, not taking my eyes off her. She’s really something. The dress she’s wearing comes down to her knees, and any man knows that’s even sexier than a woman who puts everything out on display.
She flicks the tip of her pink tongue over her lips in a nervous gesture, and my eyes drop down to her mouth. Oh, Fuck! That mouth. An image of my cock in it flashes into my head. I can already see her long, sun-kissed legs open and waiting. Hell, I can’t remember the last time a woman had such an effect on me. I stare at her in bemused fascination.
“It’s … nice. Are you enjoying it?” Her voice flows over my heated skin like warm honey. Hell, I could listen to her read a dictionary … in my bed.
I lean in. “I wasn’t … until just now.”
The other two girls titter, probably surprised by my direct technique, but the redhead is not giving up. “You’re the man of the hour, aren’t you? Seems a shame you weren’t enjoying a party held in your honor,” she purrs.
I drag my eyes away from the blonde to the redhead. She crosses her legs. There’s a lot of her on show. She looks me up and down, one eyebrow arched. That look pretty much always guarantees a good night, but it leaves me cold. No, it’s the blonde with the butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth expression, the modest skirt, and the two little dimples in her cheeks that I’m hot for.
I turn my focus back to my quarry. “You girls seem to know a lot about me. I feel at a disadvantage,” I murmur.
“Unlike you, we’re not famous. And we don’t make it a point to get our pictures in all the juiciest gossip rags, either,” the redhead says.
A slow smile spreads over my face as I stare at the blonde. She stares back, as helpless to look away as I am. “Yeah, well, I don’t make it a point. It just turns out that way. I guess they think I’m photogenic.”
My blonde bites her plump bottom lip to stop herself from smiling. “I guess they must do.”
For a few seconds, it might as well have been just the two of us at the table—hell, in the entire suite. One of the other girls clears her throat a little too loudly before she gets up and pulls the redhead to her feet. “Right, we’ll be on the dancefloor if you need us,’ she says.
“Okay,” Blondie says not breaking eye contact with me.
I barely look at them as I slide into a chair next to her. She smells as good as she looks.
“I could keep playing word games with you, but it’s all a waste of time.” I hold out my hand. “My name is Tyson. But you already knew that, right?”
She nods, placing her hand in mine. It’s small, delicate, the skin silky soft. “Izzy.”
“Izzy?” Fitting name for that odd mix of innocence and unconscious sex appeal.
She nods, and as I watch, her cheeks start filling with color. I don’t think it’s the cocktails doing that, just like my whiskey isn’t making my cock throb. Who’d have thought? All from holding a girl’s hand. Yup, she’s blushing because I’m still holding on to her hand, long after any ordinary handshake should have come to an end. I want to touch more than just her hand. I want to slide my hand up her skirt and hear her scream when I suck her clit into my mouth.
She withdraws first, sliding her smooth skin over mine, and taking possession of her glass once again. “So, you train horses?”
“I breed them,” I correct quietly.
“Oh.” The corners of her mouth curve down. She is not pretty. There’s nothing pretty about her. She is a river of sexy. “What’s the difference?”
“It’s pretty simple. I maintain my horses, make sure they get the right care and exercise, eat as they should, and when the time comes, I pay for the stud with the best qualities and … well, you know …” I finish with a wink.
She flushes again, stronger this time. “You play a little romantic music, dim the lights, and let nature take its course?”
I have to laugh. “Eh, maybe not exactly like that, but you get the general idea. We have an exceptional stable of champion horses—including a few former champions who are now out to stud. Maggie’s father was a champion.”
“Maggie?”
It’s my turn to flush a little. Nobody knows of my little nickname but me. “Magnificent Obsession. It’s just easier to call her Maggie. Rolls off the tongue.”
“I can tell you care about her,” she observes with a soft smile.
“You can now?”
She nods firmly, convinced, sincere … breathtakingly beautiful. “Sure. Your eyes lit up when you mentioned her.”
I can’t help but shift uncomfortably when she reveals me like that. It’s rare for me to even have a conversation about anything deeper than what a woman wants to drink or whether she needs me to call her a taxi in the morning. The way she looks at me, though. The way her own eyes light up.
“Yes, I guess I do care about her,” I admit with a shrug. “She’s a special horse. I was there when her mother foaled and I’ve been raising her since the first day. She’s damned fast, too. I only hope Brad knows what he’s doing and gets the right people working with her.”
Izzy’s hand covers mine. Jesus! Goosebumps. “You’re very sweet.”
My eyes widen. Sweet? Not exactly something I’m used to hearing from a woman. “Yeah, well, I have my moments. What about you? What do you do?”
“Oh, nothing as exciting as you,” she says, waving the hand that’s no longer touching me. “I’m no big deal. Someone’s unappreciated assistant.”
“What do you want to be one day?”
She frowns again. Deeper this time. “Why do I have to want to be anything else?”
Ouch. “I didn’t say you had to. But normally, a person doesn’t want to stick with a job they feel so …”
“So blah about?”
I chuckle. “Yes. So blah about. You should do something that excites you, something that makes you want to get out of bed every morning. Does your job do that for you?” I lean in a little closer and get another whiff of her perfume, and something else. Shampoo? Soap? Her natural smell? It’s enough to make me want to bury my nose in the crook of her neck and never come up for air.
“Obviously not,” she giggles.
“What are you enthusiastic about?” I ask, looking her straight in the eye.
A secret smile plays over her lips. “I don’t know, truth be told. I don’t know if I have anything that I’m all that enthusiastic about.”
“You’re probably too young.” I grin. I know she has a dream. She just doesn’t want to share it with me. I’ll work it out of her. I want all her secrets.
“I’m twenty-two.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “A mere child.”
“Oh, what are you? Five minutes older?” She laughs.
I decide to take a chance. “My point is, you have plenty of time to find out what excites you.” My hand finds her knee and rests there gently.
One corner of her luscious mouth quirks up in a knowing smile. “Oh, I already know that. No problems there.” She doesn’t move my hand away.
“Really now? You’ll have to tell me all about it.”
“It’s not the sort of thing I like to discuss in public.” She glances around the room. “I mean, so many strangers. So much bad dancing.”
I chuckle and let my eyes stray around the room. She’s not wrong about that. Everybody’s a little worse for drink by now. A bunch of moose in high heels got loose could be a good way to describe what is happening in the center of the room. Brad’s probably in the center of it all, living it up. “Maybe we should get out of here so you can tell me more,” I suggest.
; She bites down on that juicy bottom lip. Something I plan on doing myself later tonight. “Are you hungry?”
She shrugs. “I suppose I could eat.”
“Good. My hotel has a fantastic room service menu.”
She bursts out laughing, and that’s the sexiest thing of all.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re direct as hell.”
I blink. Is she really that oldest of clichés—a good girl? Do they even exist anymore? Not in my experience. “Too forward, huh?”
“No, I just expected you to be a lot smoother.”
I grin. “Baby, I can be smoother. Some parts of me are so smooth you’ll have to touch to believe.”
“I can’t believe you said that,” she blurts out, her cheeks flaring up with heat.
I take pity on her. “Want to see Paris by night?”
That goes down well, her eyes sparkle. “Really?”
I shrug. “Sure. You ready to go?”
“You want us to leave now?” she asks incredulously.
“Why not?”
“But the party’s for you!”
“Yeah, well, between you and me and the designer walls, I think it’s more a party for the man throwing it than it is for me. But as I say …” I hold a finger to my lips.
She smiles. “But I don’t know you at all. You could be a secret serial killer.”
I look into her eyes and words I have never said to anyone pour out of my mouth. “You know me, Izzy. You’ve always known me.”
She stares into my eyes, her smile dying away. “You’re right. I do know you.” She says something else, but I don’t quite catch it. It sounds like: I’ve been waiting for you all my life. But obviously, that can’t be what she said.
I hold out my hand and she places hers into it. I watch her stand in a single graceful movement. She’s only average height, coming up to my shoulder in a pair of heels, but her body makes my mouth water. Her black dress leaves a lot to the imagination, but it can’t hide her delicious curves.
