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He scoffs. ‘That figures.’
I narrow my eyes. ‘What does that mean?’
‘You have that look about you—impatiently tapping your glass, frequently checking your phone. You look like a woman waiting for either a date or a business deal. Since no one in their right mind would stand you up, I’m guessing it’s work that has you distracted.’
‘Oh, nice recovery,’ I say.
He flashes another disarming smile. ‘So—’ he glances down at my still half-full drink ‘—is this a party for one, or would you like some company?’
I flush that he’s noticed my lacklustre attempts to let loose. Then I bristle that he’s judging me. ‘Are you suggesting I don’t know how to have a good time simply because I’m not blowing a small fortune on a single spin of roulette or buying the latest thing on four wheels?’
I mash my mouth closed, irritated with myself for admitting I hadn’t been able to stop myself watching his little show.
He lifts one eyebrow in a look that says if the shoe fits, but then his eyes darken, the heat behind them kissing my skin wherever his stare trails. ‘Do you know how to have a good time?’
Why does it feel as if we’re talking about something more intimate than gambling or drinking? ‘I... Of course I do.’
He rests one elbow on the bar. ‘I assume you’re here to let your hair down in a safe, luxurious space—isn’t that why you’re an M Club member?’ He leans in. ‘Or is it all about the networking? All work and no play?’
His spot-on assumption leaves me squaring my shoulders with indignation, a move that in no way combats my attraction to his particular brand of insolent swagger. ‘Why are you a member? And why Monaco? Why so far from home?’
He shrugs, feigning boredom with my question, but I see a flash of hesitation in his eyes, a hint of vulnerability, rapidly blinked away and replaced with that roguish smile. ‘Can’t you tell?’ He tilts his head in the direction of the roulette table. ‘I’m on a bender, a pleasure spree, free and easy and hoping to broaden my horizons with luxury travel, fast cars and—’
‘Let me guess,’ I interrupt, ‘beautiful women?’ I try to laugh but I’m too attracted to him for the sound to emerge.
But he laughs, a deep rumble in his broad chest, and I flush hot at the power he seems to hold over my out-of-practice libido. His tongue swipes his bottom lip as he watches me more intently. ‘Well, what’s not to love about that combination? You’re a stunning woman, intriguing, alone—what are you doing here if not seeking your own kind of hedonistic escape?’
‘Arrogant much?’ I try to look away, but it’s as if we’re pinballs, bouncing and sparking off each other. I search his eyes, if only to show I’m not intimidated. But now he’s brought up pleasure it’s all I can think about... How can he tell I’d been sitting here contemplating exactly the kind of distraction he’s talking about? Would he be open to sex with an older woman looking to blow off some steam for the night? Isn’t that what the look of intrigue in those smoky eyes is saying?
He shrugs, a mocking twist to his generous mouth. ‘I saw you looking at me—you want something, and it’s not to drink or gamble like everyone else in this room.’
‘No, I don’t make a habit of risking my hard-earned money.’ I shrug. ‘Perhaps the occasional tame flutter.’
He inches closer, drops his voice to a conspiratorial level. ‘I’d bet the stack of chips I have in my pocket—’ he shakes his jacket, the telltale rattle indicating his point ‘—that you don’t even know what it is you want.’ His teeth scrape his bottom lip and, despite myself, my body leans a fraction closer to his imposing masculinity.
‘But I’m guessing I do,’ he stage-whispers, his breath gusting over my exposed shoulder and sending delicious tingles down to my fingertips, which itch to reach out, to tangle in that slightly too-long hair and tug him down to my kiss...
‘Is that so?’ I hold my breath, trying to avoid his delicious scent, but my body has other ideas, my thighs clenching and my underwear growing damp at the mere thought of what he’d be like as a lover. Can he really see me so clearly? See what I want when I’ve spent the past thirty minutes sitting here trying to figure it out for myself? And do I care who’s right? Wasn’t I, only moments ago, contemplating what his deep voice might promise?
An anonymous night. A delicious distraction?
My heart leaps against my ribs. I wanted to unleash my sexy, playful side for the night. My ex gloried in telling me how uptight I was, that I didn’t know how to be a wife, how to switch off from work. Well, I came to this c
asino to do just that. But with a man like him? Arrogant. Reckless. Some sort of fly-by-night success intent on brashly disposing of large chunks of his wealth...
He nods, his fingers drumming out a beat on the bar only he can hear. ‘You want to let down that gorgeous but tightly leashed hair. You want to slip out of yourself for a while, loosen up a little.’
I do, not that I can admit it to the perceptive man who thinks he has me all pegged. My throat tightens, hot and achy. It’s as if he can see straight through me, as if he can see that, for just one night, I want to break free of it all. But why shouldn’t I have my sexy diversion with a stranger I’ll never meet again?
‘Why don’t you sit down before you fall down?’ I say, defensive. No matter how hot, how confident, how intuitive he is, I’m not rushing into something I’ll only regret in the morning, for all his persuasive skills.
He grins, but his eyes harden a fraction, telling me he’s fully in command of all his faculties and won’t be slighted. ‘I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re implying. And I prefer to stand.’
‘So women have to look up to you?’ I might be currently captive to the unexpected revival of my hormones, but I’m not in the market for a cocky young buck, all talk but lacking in substance.
He smiles as though he knows the effect he’s having on my erogenous zones, as though he can read how I’m drawn to his brand of lazy confidence simply by looking into my eyes.
‘Who am I to spoil anyone’s fun when I could be the source of it?’ he says.
