Page 34 of Tanner

“Harper. Harper Doyle.” When my body melds with his, I feel that familiar zing through my body, knowing what that hand can do. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for this.” I hold up my glass, trying to hide the heat climbing up my face from being this close to him again.

He reaches for his drink and nods. “Is that how adults are supposed to introduce themselves at a bar? I thought I was just supposed to walk up to you and steal a kiss.”

“Oh, you’re right; the whole kiss-and-dash thing is definitely the more conventional way.”

“You forgot about the chase down to the subway.”

“Yes, and the secret club.”

“The body paint,” he drawls, and my thighs clench.

Tanner turns his stool, so he’s facing me head-on. He guides his knee in between mine, parting my legs and settling his on each side of my right thigh. His hand rises to the side of my face as he pushes away a stray hair. “What are you doing here, sweet Harper?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Having a drink after work. What’s up with the pen and napkin? You use that to write down the numbers of all the women you pick up in here?”

His eyes search mine, looking for my lie. “You know, I’ve been coming here for a while, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen a gorgeous blonde sitting at the bar, talking to Paul no less.”

“He’s nice.”

“He is,” he states. “I was just hoping you’d say you came in here, looking for me, and not to hear dirty jokes from an old man.”

I bite my lip. “If you want me to admit I came in here, hoping to see you, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m not desperate.”

His eyes twinkle. “Why don’t you finish your drink, and we’ll get out of here?”

“Are we in a rush?”

“No hurry at all. We have all night.”

The way he says all sends chills from my knees to my neck. I down my drink in two full gulps. “Where to, Mr. Sexton?”

“That’s up to you.”

He reaches for my phone that was sitting on the bar and swipes the screen on. His thumbs glide over the screen. He pulls his own phone out of his back pocket. The screen on it is illuminated with my number.

“You’re calling yourself from my phone?”

“Just in case you decide to leave me again.”

“You could have just asked me for my number. I’d have given it to you.”

He stands from his seat as he puts his phone back in his pocket. “You also could have left me your number instead of sneaking out on me.” He gives me a pointed glare. “By the way, Harper, not cool. We’ll talk more about that later.”

He finishes his drink and slides the glass down the bar. He leaves a fifty-dollar bill, puts his leather jacket back on, and nods toward the door.

I put my jacket on as I walk ahead, and he follows with his hand on the small of my back. The other night, I had stilettos on, and with those extra four inches, Tanner was still taller, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he is currently towering over me.

When we step outside, he stops. “Your turn, Harper Doyle.”

“My turn for what?”

“I showed you mine; now, you show me yours,” he says, straight-faced. I think it’s a sexual reference. He further clarifies, “Where do you go when you want to forget the world?”

I bite the side of my mouth, thrown off by being put on the spot. I don’t have a sexy little speakeasy or a kick-ass art studio to bring him to. For me, it’s more of an internal thing—not one place, but many places.

“I owe you a subway ride.” I turn away from him and take a deep breath as I head toward the stairwell leading below ground.

He’s right behind me, and together, we board the B train, which will take us right to Bryant Park.