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His eyes lit up with satisfaction. “Mike Worth.”
“Well, Mr. Worth.” She slid into her side of the booth now that he’d emptied it. “I’ll have a whiskey sour. You go grab it and I’ll sit here and keep our seats safe. I hear there’s a jerk going around and stealing seats tonight.”
He shot her an amused look and headed off for the bar. He looked as good going as he did coming. The jeans he wore hugged his tight butt and she had a feeling he spent a lot of time in the gym. That made two of them.
As he ordered drinks, she pulled out her red lip gloss and reapplied, checking to make sure she didn’t have raccoon eyes or something else equally embarrassing. She’d awakened at five thirty for the audition, then spent all afternoon rehearsing for the Monday night show in which she was an alternate. It involved a lot of high kicks—Rockette style—and she ached from hip to toe.
He slid into the booth opposite her and handed her the drink. He’d gotten the same. “Here you go, Morgan.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
She stirred her drink with the tiny red straw all bars used, and watched him. He scanned the room, then turned the power of those baby blues on her. Although, upon closer inspection, they were more sea-green than blue. She liked the ocean color even more than blue.
Damn him and his stupid attractiveness.
Under his scrutinizing stare, she shifted her weight in the booth and blew out a soft breath. Her hair fluttered from the exhalation. “You’re staring,” she said.
“I am?” He seemed to shake himself out of a stupor. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it. But, you know, I can’t quite place your accent. Where are you from?”
She raised a brow. “Texas.”
“Ah. Texas.” He glanced under the table. “That explains the boots—which I like very much, by the way.”
She inclined her head in thanks. “Let me guess—you’re born and bred in Vegas?”
He grinned. “Yep.”
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“And you’re probably a bookie or a professional gambler or something like that, aren’t you?” She pointed her drink at him. “Wait. Are you a stripper?”
He laughed. Actually laughed. Her pulse leapt at the sound.
“Sure. We’ll go with that.”
So he wasn’t any of those things. Some part of her wanted to press for more information. To find out what he really did, but what was the point? It’s not like she actually cared, right? “Okay, then.”
“So you know what I can’t figure out?” He leaned across the booth and met her gaze. She inhaled deeply and held it. The man could seduce with his eyes. “Why are you here, on a Friday night, all by yourself?”
She hesitated. Should she tell him the truth and let him know she’d been stood up, or make it sound a little less embarrassing? Shrugging, she said, “My plans fell through last minute.”
“Ah. That makes more sense than you being all by yourself.”
She toyed with her straw and bit down on the corner of her lip. He stared at her mouth and her stomach clenched. The way he looked at her right now made her think about bringing him home and…
No. Not happening.
She forced herself to sit up straight. To stop swaying toward him, even though she hadn’t even realized she was swaying toward him until she moved back. “Because it’s so hard to believe I might not have plans?”
“A woman who looks as good as you do always has plans.”
Oh God. That shouldn’t have made her want to jump his bones. She needed to back off. Or return to the old plan of getting him all hot and bothered before she left.
“Well…” She licked her lips, her heart racing at the way his gaze heated up. “Maybe you’re my plans now.”
He growled and she shivered at the guttural sound. “That’s fine by me.”
Propping her elbows on the table, she reached for his hand. The touch of his skin on hers sent a small electric-like shock through her blood. She almost dropped his hand, but he turned his wrist and caught her fingers before she could retreat. Guess she had to keep up her act…though it was starting to feel less and less like an act by the second.
