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He smiles the moment he registers my face. “Logan. How are you?” He smiles even wider, leaning in to rest his elbows on the table.
“I'm well. And you? How's Shari?” I ask, not missing the way his features tighten at his wife's name. I like to think that if that was my reaction to my spouse, that I would have the balls to just pack my stuff and walk away.
“Doing well.” He tries not to show his dislike for his wife but I see right through his act. “How's school? Classes going well?” He asks, making small talk.
“Really well.” I answer, knowing he doesn't really care one way or another. “Do you need a drink or anything?” I ask, gesturing to his nearly empty glass of scotch. While it is not my job to be a waitress, I find that most nights it gives me more to do.
Before he has a chance to answer, someone clears their throat behind me and pulls my attention away. Turning my head to the side, my breath hitches when my eyes land on the handsome stranger that seems, for whatever reason, hell bent on talking to me. First he requests a private, then he interrupts my conversation with another member?
“Sorry to interrupt Brent but do you mind?” He asks, gesturing for him to leave the table. Surprised that the two men seem to know each other, I can't do anything but stare blankly at Brent as he nods and throws me a small wave before standing and leaving the table, the mystery man slipping into the now vacant seat next to me.
“I requested a private dance with you and yet, you deny me?” He says, turning his face to the side to study me, his lips curving into a slow smile, revealing a row of perfectly straight white teeth and those damn dimples. “I don't like being told no.” He says, almost playfully but still with a serious undertone.
“And I don't do privates.” My response is quick and cold. He sits back, studying me for what feel likes forever, his muscular arms crossed in front of his broad chest. I can't stop my eyes from dancing across his face, down his neck, across his torso and then back up to his face again.
I am searching desperately for some type of imperfection, something to make this man a little less desirable and yet, I can find nothing. Quite the opposite actually. His jaw is cut and defined, his cheekbones perfectly accenting his blue eyes, which when I look close enough, I can see have tiny speckles of green and gold in them. His lips are full and when he drags the tip of his tongue across the lower one, it takes everything I have not to lean in for a taste. This man bleeds power, seduction, sex. He is the embodiment of everything I know I should avoid and yet, that doesn't stop my mind from wondering what it would be like to spend just one night with a man like this.
His body is covered in a black, no doubt tailored made, suit. Nothing that I don't see almost every time I'm here. Though I must admit, there's something so powerful about the way he wears it. How it clings to his broad shoulders and shows off his lean waist.
When my eyes finally make it back up to his face, I realize that he's one hundred percent aware of where my thoughts are going. And I can tell by the way his eyes dance that he's no stranger to getting this type of reaction from women. Determined not to be like every other woman he's crossed paths with, I straighten my posture and clear my throat.
“Was there anything else you needed? Because I really should get back to work.” I say, pushing away from the table in an attempt to stand. His hand darts out and sets gently on top of mine, halting my movements. Such a light, gentle touch and yet, it feels like a thousand pounds holding me in place.
The music kicks on around us as another dancer takes the stage and yet, he doesn't even glance in that direction. His focus remains solely on me. “I want you to dance for me.” He says again, leaning in so close I can feel his hot breath on my cheek. Goosebumps erupt across my skin and my breathing falters.
“Then you can come back tomorrow and watch me on stage.” I say, finding my strength from somewhere down deep and staring him straight in the eyes. Our faces are just inches apart and while the closeness of our proximity is dizzying, I still manage to hold eye contact without looking away. Hell, I'm not even sure if I have blinked. I am too busy focusing on keeping my breathing normal and my voice steady to think about anything else.
“Interesting.” He says, once again sitting back in his chair, giving me the space I need to take a deep breath and gain some composure.
“What's that?” I ask, mirroring his actions and pushing back in my chair, suddenly very aware of how very little clothing I am wearing and where we are. His eyes dart across my skin. I can feel the heat creep up my neck until his gaze finally meets mine again.
“I don't recall a woman ever telling me no before.” He says, laughing lightly.
“Well that's a problem then.” I say, shaking my head at him.
“Is it now?” He questions, cocking his head to the side.
“Well it certainly does not say much for the women you surround yourself with now does it?” I say, not sure if I have just offended him or if he is really considering my statement.
“Perhaps.” He says, his voice trailing off.
I open my mouth to say something else but immediately close it when I see the floor manager Josh approaching our table. He stops directly next to the man, whose name I have yet to learn, his eyes not looking my direction even once.
“Mr. Reed.” Josh says, sounding a little off kilter. “I have the information you requested.” He says, his eyes finally finding me for a fraction of a second before turning back to the man next to me.
“Excellent. I will be there in a moment.” He says, waving his hand half haphazardly as if telling Josh to go the hell away. Turning his attention back to me, his seductive smile returns.
Leaning in, he slides his hand under the table and firmly grips the top of my thigh, his face once again coming within inches of mine. “Next time then....” He pauses.
“Logan.” I blurt, realizing that he's waiting for my name.
“Logan.” He says, closing the distance between us to place a light kiss to my cheek. “It was a pleasure.” He says, standing so abruptly, it takes me a moment to register his movements.
It seems like one minute he's in front of me, gripping my leg in a way that causes my stomach to clench in all sorts of ways that it shouldn't and then the next, I am watching his backside as he walks away.
