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It’s not like there’s much else to do.
The elevator doors open, and I step out and cross the lobby. Outside, I walk just a few blocks before spotting a bar. It’s busy inside, and as soon as I step in, I recognize several faces from previous conferences I’ve attended. I stop to make cheerful smalltalk with a few folks before finally making my way to the bar and ordering a whiskey sour. As I wait for the bartender to make it, I turn and lean against the bar as I survey the crowd.
The moment my eyes lock onto her, she’s all I can see.
Even in the dark bar, with all these people crammed inside, she’s like a beacon drawing me toward her. Her dirty blonde hair is tied up into a bun, and her curves—damn. I’ve never seen a figure so fine.
But there’s something else about her, too.
It’s like her soul is calling to mine.
Jesus. I’ve never had a thought likethatbefore. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Whatever it is, though, I’m not about to ignore it.
I’ve never been one to be shy.
“Here you go, man,” the bartender says behind me. I thank him and pay for the drink, then head across the room to my mystery woman. She’s standing near a group of women, but she seems apart from them in a way.
It’s then that I realize that I’ve seen her before. She was the beautiful creature who caught my eye in the lobby when everyone and their mother was trying to check in. I’d wanted to go up to her then, too, but I was stuck in a conversation that I couldn’t excuse myself from, and when it was over, she was gone.
Thank fuck I found her again.
“Hi,” I say, holding out a hand. “I’m Jack.”
For a moment, she looks surprised by my forwardness. Then her face relaxes and she holds out her hand, too. “I’m Claire. It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”
“You’re here for the conference, aren’t you?”
“I am.” A sweet little smile lifts her lips. “I actually saw you in the conference program.”
“So you know all about me, then.”
She laughs. “I mean…I know you’re a superintendent in Portland. That’s pretty much it.”
“What about you?”
“I teach second grade.”
“That’s a sweet age.”
“I agree.”
Jesus, this woman is stunning. I’ve never thought of myself as having a type, but if I did, it would be her. There’s both a softness and sexiness to her features that turns me on in a way I’ve never felt before. If I find out that she has a boyfriend who gets to touch those irresistible curves of hers, it’s going to fucking kill me.
Claire takes a sip from her drink—a pink cocktail—and I watch in agony as her full lips purse around the straw.
I’m about to ask her how long she’s been a teacher for when another woman interrupts us—a grinning woman with short, wavy hair.
“Hey!” she says, gaping at me. ”It’syou!”
“Maya—” Claire says, lowering her drink. She looks at me apologetically as she pulls the other woman away. “I’m sorry. I think my colleague is a little drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,Claire,” the woman—Maya—says. She flings her arms up into the air with a flourish. “I’menjoying life.”
“Well, I think you’re enjoying it a little too much,” says Claire, speaking through clenched teeth.
“Is that even possible?” snorts Maya. Then, cupping her hand over her mouth but whispering loudly enough for anyone nearby to hear, she says, “Hey, Claire. Little word of advice? You should invite him back to your room.”
I laugh. Meanwhile, Claire’s pretty cheeks burn pink.
