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“You. Me. Dark corner booth at the bar. Bourbon apple ciders with extra whipped cream. On me.”
My brain conjures an image of West naked, with whipped cream topping the part of him I can’t wait to get my hands—and my mouth—on. I smile what I’m sure is a wicked grin. Absolutely positively wicked.
And excited.
And oh-so-ready to be somewhere dark and cozy with this man.
“That sounds perfect.” I give his fingers a squeeze. “Just let me settle my tab, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“No, I’ll settle it,” he says. “I’m paying tonight. One of the perks of victory.”
As a successful business owner, I can absolutely pay for my own coffee and spiked cider—and anything else I need, for that matter—but it’s been ages since a man offered to treat me. Every guy I’ve dated recently prefers to split the check or let me pay, something I always offer to do if I’m the one to suggest the restaurant or bar.
If West wants to pamper me a little, I won’t object. “All right. Thank you. I like perks.”
“Good, because the perks are just getting started,” he says with a wink that would seem cheesy from any other guy.
But this man can pull off a wink, wear the hell out of a suit, and master a Rubik’s Cube. Plus, he knows all the high-scoring Scrabble words by heart. Maybe I am going to ride a unicorn tonight. A hot, bearded unicorn.
As I watch him walk to the bar, I decide that, with a backside like that, he could probably pull off just about anything. And of course, to me, his nerdy side is nearly as attractive as his drop-dead sexy exterior and swoon-worthy accent.
Nearly.
West pays the check, returns my un-swiped credit card, and pulls my chair out in a display of manners that’s also sexy as hell. If he offers his arm and insists I walk on the side of the street farthest from the curb as we transition to the bar, I might faint.
Or spontaneously orgasm.
Preferably the latter.
Wait. Nope. I don’t want to trip the light fantastic on a street. I’ll faint, have him catch me, and when I come to in the middle of his bed, he’ll deliver multiples.
He is good at math after all.
He pushes my chair in and nods toward the stage. “I need to say goodbye to my friends before we leave. Want to come?”
I blink and suck in a breath. “You have friends here? God, I’m so sorry. They must think I’m awful, monopolizing you for the entire night.”
He smiles as he takes my hand, sending another sizzle up my arm. “Not at all. They’re newlyweds. Repulsively in love. Barely notice if there’s anyone else in the room. You know the type.”
I laugh. “I do, actually. But I’ll wait by the door if that’s okay. I need to hit the ladies before we leave.”
“All right,” he says, releasing my hand with a squeeze. “See you in a bit, then, Gigi.”
“In a bit, West,” I echo and head to the line for the restroom, even though I don’t really need to go.
Meeting his friends might make this feel like more than an easy, breezy thing, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to feel stressed or nervous or pressured to score another date. I’ve had enough of that. I simply want to be in the moment and enjoy tonight.
And if it leads to something more than a night…well, that would be nice, I guess. But if it doesn’t, I’m okay with that too, as long as I get to play naked Twister with West while I have the chance.
Or naked dominoes. Or naked poker.
As long as we’re naked, I’m guessing any game we play will be ten times as fun.
4
WEST
In the main gaming room, I peer over Graham’s shoulder as he rolls the die onto the Clue board—Cluedo in the UK—at the high table.
“I vote for Miss Scarlett. It’s always Miss Scarlett,” I whisper unhelpfully. “With the candlestick.”
Graham sears me with a look.
His wife tsks. “West, don’t give it away. Graham is just learning how to play Clue.”
I jerk my head back. “You don’t know how to play Clue?”
“I know how. I’m just not obsessed with board games like some people,” my American friend says, pretending to search for someone in the crowd.
“No idea who you might mean.”
“Also, I prefer strip Clue,” he mutters as he moves his game piece to the library.
“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t be any better at that,” CJ says sympathetically then adopts a cheery grin. “Which means we should go home and play right now.”
Graham shifts to her side of the standing table to loop an arm around her waist. “And it’ll be my wife in the kitchen with my candlestick.”
She swats his shoulder as I roll my eyes. “Like I told my new friend—revoltingly in love, you two.” That gets CJ’s attention. “Is the new friend of the female variety?”
