Page 64 of Playing Hard to Get

Shaking my head, I sat back in my chair. “I don't drink with strangers.”

He grinned and leaned forward. “Then let's be friends.” He extended his hand across the table. “I'm Jason.”

I eyed his hand. Dragged my eyes up to his face. I'd done random hookups before. I'd been hit on by hundreds of men. And though he seemed somehow familiar, I'd never seen one quite like him. He had this air of prestige wrapped up in a hard shell. His blond hair was cut tight but longer on top; sexy, like Mitch’s. His black polo was tucked into jeans that were torn at the knees. His face was freshly shaved, and his arms were covered in a multitude of tattoos, both clean and crisp and ones that looked like they were given by a ballpoint pen and a needle.

He was both the kind of guy I'd look for and the kind I'd never touch, back before I fell in love with Mitch.

“I'm not interested.”

He took my answer in stride. Leaned back in his chair and studied me. Made me feel dirty and desired as he eyed my breasts, as his tongue swept out and touched his bottom lip.

“You always play hard to get?”

“I'm not playing,” I told him. “Don't think my boyfriend would approve.”

“Ah, of course.” Jason nodded and leaned forward. “The elusive boyfriend. Every rich girl’s got one. So tell me, Miss Not Interested, where's your boyfriend while you're here in this bar, looking hotter than sin?”

I smiled. Couldn’t help it. He had a way about him. Something hard and sexy, broken and vulnerable. Just like Mitch.

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I crossed my legs. Jason pushed a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head and crossed his legs, too.

“He’s back home. I'm not from here.”

Jason smiled, a sultry little smile that was as mild as noon in Death Valley. “And he let you out in the world without him?” He shook his head. “He's either incredibly stupid or he really trusts you.”

“We’re in love,” I said, defending both my man and myself, telling the guy he was wasting his time.

“Of course.” He tipped his head to the left seconds after I tipped mine. “All the gorgeous ones are. He's a lucky man.”

“I'm the lucky one.”

Jason smiled. The heat was tempered and it almost felt cold. He flagged down a waitress as she passed. “A scotch and…” He looked at me, his eyebrow quirked up.

“The same.”

The waitress headed to the bar, yelling over the dark wood top to the old man behind the counter. He slung some scotch into a couple glasses and slid them toward the waitress.

As she stepped away from the bar, I looked at Jason. Felt his eyes, like fingers, as they slid across my skin. As the waitress set our drinks on the table, he unfurled a bill from his wallet and gave me a crooked grin. He slid a tented twenty onto the waitress’ tray without sparing a glance in her direction. When my eyes flashed back to him, he’d lifted both tumblers and was holding one out to me.

Taking the glass, I rolled it between my palms. Watched him do the same. I took a small sip. Took a larger one when Jason copied. A smile twitched across my face.

I saw what he was doing. Mimicking my movements to put me at ease. My father taught me the move when I was a child. Jason could try all he wanted, he wasn’t getting into my pants tonight. Or ever.

Though my phone was silent, I picked it up, swiping my finger across the screen. The last text I received from Mitch was from two days ago, telling me he was going out with a client. Telling me he loved me. It brought a smile to my lips. Brought warmth to my heart.

The liquor was working fast on my body. I felt more relaxed than I did after finishing my entire first drink. Felt a buzz starting at the back of my head, traveling down my neck.

Jason was watching me intently from his seat across the table, his amber eyes studying my every move. I blinked heavily, noticed the buzz had traveled to my fingertips, then felt it behind my knees.

Something wasn’t right.

Something…

I started to sway, felt like the room was spinning around me. Felt my phone buzz in my hand. Glanced down to find a message from Jillian. Saw nothing but the words sorry and late. Wondered where my phone went when it wasn’t in my hand. Wondered where my chair went when it wasn’t beneath me. Wondered at the strong arm around my waist, the shoulder my arm was snug around.

Wondered where I was going as I exited the bar.

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