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I laughed. “My father is French and I grew up in Paris. That’s how French I am .”
“So you’d say that tips the scales past the fifty percent mark?” He chuckled and I could see how sexy his smile was. Rows of straight white teeth set behind a strong jawline. Was it the vodka or was he becoming more attractive by the second ?
I tended to think the neon lights and the lone singer with the guitar had something to do with it too, but I couldn’t stop staring at his arms. He was ripped .
“Probably so. It doesn’t help that half my family is in Paris and I go back and forth to see them. I take it you’re a Texas guy ?”
I needed to ask him a question before I launched into the sad story of my parents’ divorce. I didn’t know why I had already divulged so much to him. He didn’t want to hear about how I alternated holidays between Dallas and Paris. Or how much I hated moving here when I was seventeen. Texas seemed like an armpit after growing up in France .
“Born and bred.” He grinned .
“I think Texans are as proud of where they are from as Parisians are.” I withheld the rest of my commentary .
He looked over his shoulder and scanned the bar. No one was looking at us. It almost felt as if we were the only ones here, lost in a back corner .
He turned around. “I want to say something to you .”
I finished my drink. “Okay. What is it ?”
“If this makes me sound like an asshole, so be it.” He paused. “But I’m not going to be in Austin after tomorrow. I travel for work. So I’m not going to pretend that I can call you, or that I’m interested in taking you to dinner .”
I inhaled sharply. My stomach fluttered out of control. Where was he going with this ?
“What I am interested in is taking you back to my room .”
His voice was so low it was almost a growl. A growl that sent shivers down my spine and tingled through my legs. Holy shit .
“That’s forward.” I eyed him. “Extremely unexpected and forward.” I arched my eyebrows .
“It’s honest.” He kicked back the rest of his dark drink. I didn’t seem to have thrown him .
“No try-to-get-my-number and promise-you’ll-call in the morning ?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not going to call you.” He eyes were set in a determined line .
I licked my lips. “Not even going to try to tell me you want to see me when you’re in town again ?”
“Can’t do that.” He leaned toward me. “It’s not possible .”
My heart beat faster. This was unreal .
“I don’t know what to say. I’m either completely offended or completely flattered.” I think both described the emotions I was feeling .
He wrapped an arm around my chair. “Be flattered, darlin’.” His hand made a trail against my neck and down my arm until his fingers twined between mine. “It doesn’t get any more honest than this. I’m willing to break a rule of mine for this .”
“A rule?” I started to panic. “Are you married? Is there a girlfriend? Because regardless of how long you’re here, I’m not a home wrecker .”
“Whoa. Whoa.” He put up his hands. “There is no girlfriend, and definitely no wife.” He leaned toward my ear. “Tonight, there is you. Let’s go .”
“I didn’t say yes,” I whispered. But I was thinking it. Every part of me wanted to get tangled up with him for one night. This had to be the boldest offer I’d ever received. The guy was confident .
No one would know. He wouldn’t
come back. He wouldn’t hassle me into another night or break my heart because I expected something. He was fucking gorgeous and all he wanted was me .
“But you want to,” he teased. “Don’t think, come with me .”
What was there to think about? He was offering the perfect one-night stand scenario. The excitement mixed with the anticipation and muddled my thoughts. Logic had lost and my hormones took over .
