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“Will there be anything else?”
He offered her a smile that promised more than drinks. And, at one time, she would have taken him up on it. Young, virile, he had light green eyes that stood out against his bronze skin. But…she didn’t need or want another man--she had Max.
She shook her head and sipped her drink. As he worked his way down the bar, she watched him handling locals and tourists with the ease. In Honolulu, she was sure it was something that gained him a lot of good tips. And she thought as she took another sip, he could mix a mean margarita, heavy on the tequila, thank God.
Gennifer looked in the mirror behind the bar and studied the crowd of sunburned tourists decked out in their new Hawaiian outfits, and that’s when she saw him. Her stomach clenched, her nerves rattled. He was right on time as he always was. She couldn’t remember if he’d ever been late. The man was probably born on time with minimum fuss.
He was gorgeous of course. That was another thing that hadn’t changed. Thick blond hair, strong jaw, that linebacker body. His black Hawaiian shirt sported one embellishment—a palm tree on the top right corner. It made her grin. Butch—as she was thinking of him at the moment—would never wear something with a busy pattern. It didn’t fit his stuffy style. The khaki, loose-fitting pants were ruthlessly ironed, not a crease to be found.
He would always stand out in any crowd, especially to her.
Their gazes locked in the mirror. As serious as he was, there was always a hint of devilment within his deep chocolate eyes. She had recognized it years ago. His hair might be perfectly styled, his suit without a wrinkle, but there was always a wicked gleam in the depths of his gaze. Her breath tangled in her throat.
As he made his way through the bar, he never took his attention from her in the mirror. A shiver slipped down to the base of her spine. Heat vibrated through her, shimmering in her blood, racing along her skin. Gennifer had to suppress a quiver as he continued walking toward her.
He kept his attention on her, ignoring the patrons in general, even snubbing one or two women who approached him.
The shiver grew, heat slicing through her veins, her body warming the closer her got. His dominant personality should have been a turn off. It had been with other men, but with him, well…it just got her hotter. Even in the humid Hawaiian air, her nipples tightened against the cotton fabric of her red dress.
By the time he reached her side, she was breathless, although she did her best to hide it. She sipped her drink, then glanced over at him. The knowing smile irritated and aroused her at the same time. He was such an infuriating man.
“Took ya long enough, Butch.”
Humor lightened his eyes. “You’ve always been a demanding wench.”
The bartender sidled closer. Butch shook his head without looking at the man. “I assume you got the room.”
She really should take exception to his tone. She should have been pissed when he’d sent her a text with an order to secure a room. Instead, just the thought of being ordered about by him had her hormones humming. He could melt her into a puddle of lust with just a look. When he went all Alpha male on her, she couldn’t say no. Worse, he knew it.
“Yes, although you didn’t specify what kind of view you wanted.”
His lips quirked, but he said nothing as he watched while she finished her drink. She didn’t hurry, even if she wanted to. Truthfully, what she yearned to do was rush upstairs, strip him naked, and then jump his gorgeous bones. It wouldn’t be the first time for that…and definitely not the last. Tonight, though, she wanted to draw out the anticipation. She knew it drove him crazy.
She was pushing him.She was good at it, excelled at it, in fact. Years of practice had made her an expert on just what would push him over the edge. And she always was one for the game. But this time, he thought, he would just push back.
Butch crowded closer, slipping in between her barstool and the next. Her bare thigh rubbed against his. He was wearing slacks, but it didn’t matter. Even without touching her skin he was hard. The mere thought that they were moments away from stealing upstairs for an illicit tryst had his body raring to go.
He closed his eyes. Good God she had him thinking like…he didn’t know what the hell he was thinking like, but it wasn’t like him. Illicit tryst? He sounded like a hero in a gothic novel. Opening his eyes, he motioned toward the bartender and ordered a lava flow. Out of the corner of his eye he caught her satisfied smile, the curve of her lips into a shrewd smirk. It was about time to give her a little of what she was tossing out.
“So…”
She flashed him a grin that was all teeth. His cock twitched. He loved her independence, loved the fact that she was so confident in herself. It had become almost more of a turn on than the compact little body she displayed in that curve hugging dress.
“Gennifer—with a G.”
He snorted. The woman had a twisted sense of humor. “So, Gennifer with a G, where did you get that dress?”
She skimmed her hand down her body. He curled his fingers into the palms of his hands, resisting to the urge to touch, caress. He couldn’t be in the same room and not want to have his hands on her.
“Went out this morning shopping, just for this.”
The bartender set Butch’s drink down in front of him and he tossed the young man enough cash to cover both drinks. Saying nothing, he pulled a sip off the straw, still amazed he liked the fruity concoction he’d tasted his first night on the island.
When he said nothing, just continued to watch her, she squirmed on the stool. A flash of irritation passed over her face. The next second, it melted into calculation. She leaned closer. The scent of her always drove him crazy. Wildflowers, and just a hint of her—musky woman. It was an aphrodisiac.
“You should see what I bought to wear later.”
He could just imagine. Her moods changed as often as weather in the South. Black leather one day. Pink velvet the next. It didn’t matter what it was, if it was on her, it would be sexy.
