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“A date? Oh no.” I shook my head. “My roommate was called into work and had to leave.”
“I was wondering why a pretty girl was in here alone. Something didn’t add up.”
Pretty? He thought I was pretty. Had the man seen a mirror? I tried not to stare at his features, but there was something strong and confident about him. Maybe it was how the lines of his face made perfect angles. He had a solid jaw and sharp cheekbones.
I knew the line made me blush. “I could ask the same thing.”
“Are you calling me pretty? Because that might be a first.” There was something serious about the way he flirted. Maybe it was the low tone of his voice.
I immediately glanced at my drink to escape how he made me feel.
“I just wrapped a meeting with some co-workers,” he explained.
“What do you do?” I asked.
“I’m in lending.”
“Oh.” I tried not to sound disappointed. I don’t know where that came from. I expected him to say he had some kind of fascinating position I’d never heard of.
He smiled at the waitress when she handed us our drinks.
“Yeah. Not really that exciting,” he admitted. He must have noticed my reaction.
“So was that a line about being in a dangerous line of work? Do you secure death-defying loans?”
He chuckled as he kicked back the bourbon. “You’re a smartass.”
I wasn’t going for smartass. I was going for flirty and self-assured. I bit my bottom lip. I wanted him to see me as confident. As confident as he was.
“It wasn’t a line. I used to do dangerous. Not anymore. I gave it up you could say. Let’s call it retirement.”
I felt my pulse race again. There it was. The thrill of something reckless and different.
“What did you do?” I twirled the lemon twist on the surface of my drink.
“I don’t talk about it much.”
“And what keeps you from talking about it? What were you? Some kind of special operations trained killer?” I giggled at my own joke, but I saw the way his midnight eyes cut into mine.
“Oh,” I whispered.
His stare was intense. I had pressed too hard. We were strangers. I didn’t have a right to pry into his personal life. I took a sip of my drink, trying to ignore the excitement that ran through my spine from the way he answered me.
A few seconds passed before Vaughn spoke again. He seemed comfortable with the silence.
“Let’s talk about you. What do you do?” he asked.
“I work at American University. Well, actually I don’t work-work there. I was selected for a program.” I realized how flustered his eyes made me. He followed my lips with piercing focus. “I’m in sort of a residency program for attorneys.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a lawyer.” He sat back in his chair. “You look too sweet for something like that.”
Maybe I had disappointed him. I wondered what line of work he thought I was in before I started talking. Did he think I did something fun and sexy? Or was he like everyone else who thought the innocence in my eyes meant I wasn’t old enough to do something harrowing?
“Who said I’m sweet?” I bit my bottom lip.
He picked up his glass. “Good point. Keep talking, pretty girl.”
Shit, what was he doing to me? I felt feisty all of a sudden. I felt like there was a hellcat inside of me who wanted to come out and play. But really, how long could I pull that off? He’d see through my charade before my next sip of vodka. I decided to stick with the truth.
