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Then he grins at me, complete with dimples. Pleasure washes over me. Men talk to me, some of them ask me out. It’s been a very long time since a man looked at me the way Mason is looking at me. My entire body tingles with anticipation, and I’m now starting to understand what Avery means her lady parts are dancing.
I might be in trouble.
ChapterFour
MASON
Istare at the woman across the table, and I can’t believe she’s still with me. It took some fancy flirting to get her to have a drink with me. Honestly, I usually don’t have to work that hard. It’s not that I get any woman I find attractive. It’s that I usually walk away if someone’s not interested.
But with Liv, it was different. When I first saw her, my entire world came to a stop. All the casino noises, the loud people, the horrible tinny music on someone’s ringtone, faded away and all I saw was her.
I’ve never had that happen before.
So, I took a chance, and I have to say, it was a good idea.
We’re two drinks into our conversation, and I can’t think of anywhere I would rather be. Something about this woman just makes me want to make her laugh. She seems so serious, but when she laughs, it’s magical.
“So, you claim you’re here on a girls’ trip and were about to go upstairs before midnight?”
She smiles and the sight sends a wave of heat rolling through me. I’ve never been this attracted to a woman. She’s tall, even without the heels she’s wearing, with long dark hair and whiskey eyes, she’s stunning. The gold-toned shirt she’s wearing brings out the honey undertone to her skin. And, let’s just say the woman knows how to wear a pair of jeans. That ass of hers could stop traffic.
“Yeah, my sisters had the same reaction, especially since this was supposed to be a trip for me.”
Before I can ask her another question—like why they are having a trip for her—the waitress sets down the appetizer trio I’d ordered. Liv’s brow furrows.
“When did we order this?”
“I had the munchies.”
That’s a fib. Well, other than munching on her. But when she excused herself to go to the restroom, I put in an order. I was desperate for a way to keep her at this table. My true worry is that she’ll disappear and I won’t get to taste her. It’s insane, but I feel like my life depends on it.
She doesn’t look like she believes me. Of course she can see through my bullshit.
“Serious.” I hold my hands up and give her my best puppy dog eyes.
She shakes her head. “Does your mother let you get away with everything when you give her that look?”
Instantly, my mood sobers a bit. “Unfortunately, my mother is no longer with us.”
Her eyes widen, and there’s a hint of sympathy in them. I hate that. I don’t like being known as that Spencer kid without his parents. Growing up in a small town, everyone knew the story of our family. I used it to my advantage when I was a teenager, but I don’t want people looking at me like that now.
“I’m sorry.” Over the last couple of decades, I’ve heard those two words hundreds of times, but none of them sounded as sincere. And that tells me she’s been through loss.
“Thank you.” Normally I would move on to say something else to change the subject and make her laugh, but the recognition, the empathy, originates from experience. “You seem to understand.”
She sighs as she plays with the straw of her drink. “I’m a widow.”
I blink. Widows are older, like grandma age. Yes, it’s a stupid thought, but I can’t wrap my mind around this young, beautiful woman being a widow.
Before I can think better of it, I reach out across the table and take her hand. Just that simple touch sends a spark of heat along my nerve endings. It’s the same feeling I had when I caught her in front of the elevators. Her eyes widen. A cute blush works up into her cheeks, and her tongue slips out over her fuller bottom lip.
She feels it too.
I know that deep down in my soul. She’s trying to hide it, but the obvious signs are there. She’s so buttoned-up, but I know there’s a simmering need beneath that surface.
“Liv, this might be out of line, but I would love to take you back to my room.”
She looks away, over my shoulder. Her unfocused gaze tells me she isn’t looking at anything.
