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“You like them, too?” she asked once the bartender left them to make their drinks. With a mixture of vodka, spicy ginger beer, and lime juice, it was usually an acquired taste.

“Never had one,” he admitted, flashing her a dimpled grin that caused a warm tickle in her belly. “But if you’re taking a walk on the wild side tonight, then I’m joining you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m such a rebel,” she scoffed, then shook her head at that absurd notion and laughed. “Okay, let’s be real. I’m so not rebellious.”

“I know, which is why I’m not letting you indulge alone,” he teased, leaning his forearm on the countertop. “You know what they say . . . friends don’t let friends get drunk alone.”

Her lips quirked at his explanation. “Umm, can’t say I’ve ever heard that quote before.”

“Just go with it, Daisy,” he encouraged, swiveling his chair so that his body was turned toward her, though she remained sitting straight, because if she did rotate her seat his way, his legs would end up bracketing hers. “Besides, I don’t want to be the responsible sober one if you do something crazy, like dance on one of the tabletops. I want to watch and cheer you on.”

Her cheeks warmed at the notion of doing something so impulsive, but mostly at the thought of Aiden encouraging her brazen behavior and having his eyes on her while she shimmied her body and tempted him to end her three-year dry spell. Yeah, as if that would ever happen. Judging by the beautiful, sophisticated, svelte women she’d seen him with, she was so not his type.

“So, truthfully?” he said, his voice effectively snapping her out of her little fantasy, even though the residual scrape of her tight, hard nipples against the cups of her bra was distracting as hell. “I’ve always been curious to know what a Moscow mule tasted like.”

“You didn’t have to order one,” she told him with a laugh. “I would have given you a sip of mine.”

“Mmm . . . I don’t think I should be putting my lips on your lips,” he said, his voice dipping sensually low as his gaze skimmed across her mouth before lifting to her eyes again. “Well, not technically, anyway, but if you shared, I might not be able to stop at one taste, and that wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Daisy’s pulse stuttered, then resumed at a faster, more arousing pace. Oh. My. God. Were they even talking about the Moscow mule anymore? She was used to the occasional teasing exchange with Aiden at work, where there were a dozen other people around so it never felt personal. But now that it was just the two of them, without anyone else around to buffer his comments and the situation, she wasn’t sure what to make of this more intimate dialogue . . . except to admit that it was making her very aware of how much she missed this kind of connection with a man . . . especially the physical one. And how much she liked Aiden’s attention.

The bartender delivered their drinks, and both she and Aiden picked up their highball glasses and took a sip of the Moscow mule. The taste of vodka was strong, but the spicy ginger beer and lime gave it an interesting twist of flavor. It took Aiden three sips, taken with a furrowed, uncertain brow, before he finally, slowly nodded his head in approval.

“It’s definitely different, but I like the kick of spice.” He shifted his gaze from the drink to her. “Who knew beneath those conservative suits you wear that you were a woman who liked a little spice in her life.”

His eyes twinkled mischievously, though there was something more heated simmering beneath the golden hue as he maintained eye contact with her. As if he was testing just how far she’d allow this arousing banter between them to go. If she’d play it off like she normally did, or if she’d dare to take a walk on the wild side, as he’d suggested earlier.

The thought was appealing, especially in a city and environment where no one knew them. Deciding to just go with the flow of flirty conversation and enjoy the evening away from work, obligations, and responsibilities, she took another swallow of her drink and smiled at him. “That’s because you’ve never seen me out of my business attire.”

Chapter Two

For the first time ever, buttoned-up, straightlaced Daisy Parker had rendered Aiden speechless, and he kinda liked being thrown off-balance by a woman, which admittedly didn’t happen often. Correction, he liked being thrown an unexpected curve ball by Daisy, because that bit of impetuousness she’d just displayed contradicted the colleague who’d presented herself as poised and serious when it came to work and business-related functions.

He’d always suspected that her sedate, unassuming outfits, combined with the way she wore her hair pulled into a neat and tidy twist at the back of her head, and her mostly composed personality, were her attempt to downplay her beauty and conceal her delectable curves so her intelligence and experience were what people focused on. She was a woman in a competitive corporate world, so he understood why she’d want to present herself as smart and as capable as any man who was her equal.

What she couldn’t hide, however, was that the tailored fit of her clothes, despite being modest, still hinted at the feminine figure beneath, or the full, soft lips that even now shimmered with a pale shade of pink that was hardly noticeable, instead of a blatant red

hue that women wore to get a man’s attention. And even though she kept her hair pinned up in what he’d label a matronly style, there was no doubt in his mind that if she ever let it down, it would be thick and soft and turn her from a self-contained lady to a hot little vixen.

At least, that’s what happened when he fantasized about what it would be like to peel away that outer layer, and he’d imagined it many, many times. So while he might not have ever actually seen her out of her business attire, he definitely had a mental image of what she’d look like naked . . . ample breasts that would fit his big hands perfectly, shapely hips he could grab on to as he did dirty things to her from behind that made her shake and moan, and a lush ass that he’d enjoy putting his handprint on.

Jesus . . . those illicit thoughts of Daisy accomplished what Mallory’s come-ons had not. His dick was hard, and as he met Daisy’s amused gaze, it took effort for him to regain his composure.

She tipped her head to the side, the corner of her luscious mouth barely suppressing a grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words, Mr. Stone.”

He shifted on his barstool, which did nothing to help ease the ache in his groin. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard something so naughty, or so tempting, come out of your mouth.”

She shrugged as she took a long drink of her Moscow mule, nearly finishing the cocktail, then met his gaze and licked her bottom lip in a way that set his blood on fire. “Just for the record, I do like a little spice.”

In her drink? In her life? With sex? Her reply was open-ended, but since she’d sat down beside him at the bar, their conversation had gradually veered from work to light and engaging and, now, to something far more suggestive. It felt as though she’d just volleyed the ball into his court and was waiting to see if he’d drop the ball or return it.

Jesus, he was so fucking turned on by this unexpectedly bold side to Daisy. She’d always intrigued and fascinated him, mostly because she was one of the few single women he’d met who hadn’t blatantly come on to him before. Admittedly, he’d enjoyed that attention and easy conquest in his younger years, but now, at thirty-two, when it came to sex, he found himself being more discriminant and preferred being with a woman who stimulated more than just his cock, and one who had substance. And Daisy certainly had plenty of that.

Despite her outer appearance being the complete opposite of what normally caught his eye, his attraction to her had been a slow, steady build over the years. They’d started as colleagues, had become friends, and as time went by, he’d notice those little things about her that went beyond the physical . . . like her captivating smile and her husky laugh that was so damn sexy. How smart and funny she was, and confident in a quiet, understated way that drew respect from her co-workers—and had earned her a substantial promotion.

But never, ever did he think that the two of them would cross the line beyond flirtation and skirt the edges of temptation. But they were currently right on the verge of stepping over all those boundaries, and the fact that they were hundreds of miles away from home, where no one knew them personally, made what he’d always considered off-limits suddenly an enticing possibility.

“So, what happened to your flavor of the week?” she asked.

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