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He released her as the cab arrived and opened the door, silently motioning for her to climb in.
She stepped in front of him, a million thoughts racing through her mind, most prominently that she needed to figure out how to get laid by this incredible creature and get him out of her head, so she could go back to concentrating and getting her work done.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she said quickly.
His lips curved up with amusement. “Oh, you received them after all?”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes, because he was incredibly nice and didn’t deserve her knee-jerk reactions. “Yes. Thank you. I’m just not a flower type of girl.”
“Makes me wonder what type of girl you are.”
The cabdriver cleared his throat.
“Are we sharing a cab?” he asked with more than a hint of sin simmering in his eyes.
Hell yes. Knowing better than to hand over control to the man who would run with it, she kept her interest close to her chest. “It makes sense,” she said coolly. “Since we’re both heading to the same place.”
She climbed into the cab and he slid in beside her. His long leg pressed against hers and his arm circled her shoulder. Last night’s make-out session flashed through her mind, flooding her body with heat. He gave the driver an unfamiliar address.
“Where are we going?”
“NightCaps.”
“Huh?” popped out.More brilliant banter.Boy, she was a real winner tonight.
“My bar.” He raked his eyes down her blouse, lingering on her breasts. Like good little girls, her nipples rose to attention for him.
Hisbar? “But I thought we were going to…” She stroked her hand along the length of his thigh.
His hand came down over hers and he squeezed her fingers around his muscular leg. The predatory look in his eyes awakened a nest of bees in her stomach.
“I like to get toknowthe women I sleep with.”
Giving him her best let’s-stop-fucking-around-and-do-this look, she said, “That didn’t seem to bother you last night.”
“We didn’t sleep together last night.”
Her eyes rolled before she could stop them. “I’m too busy to have a drink. I barely have time for a quick—”
Before she knew what was happening, he clutched her hip, angling her entire body toward him, and in a lethally calm, low voice he said, “You just visited your father in the hospital. I just visited a little girl who’s lucky to be alive. I sent you flowers and it took you twelve hours to thank me, and then you told me you’re not aflowergirl. That brilliant mind of yours needs a chance to catch up before I obliterate your ability to think—and I need time to figure out what type ofwomanyou are.”
He leaned in, bringing his lips so close she could almost taste them—and she wanted to.Desperately. He possessed a rare combination of sensitivity and dominance, and she liked it.A lot.
He bypassed her mouth, his hot breath brushing over her cheek as he whispered, “If you have time for afuck, you have time for a drink.” He released her and eyed her vibrating phone. “Now answer your phone,Winters. Because I promise you,whenwe go back to my place, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t remember what the damn thing is.”
Chapter Five
NIGHTCAPS WAS PACKED, which Dylan had counted on as a breather between the heaviness of their hospital visits and the hot fuck they were heading for. His bar was the go-to place for businesspeople, celebrities, and just about everyone else beneath the Manhattan sky, and he liked it that way. He was fascinated by the challenging woman who didn’t appreciate gifts and accused him of using pickup lines. Maybe he should take Tiffany home, fuck the bossiness out of her, and be done with it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that her abruptness was a facade. They’d just come from the hospital and she’d avoided his question when he’d asked if she was okay after seeing her father. Maybe she was just keeping her personal life close to her chest. Or maybe she was a compartmentalizer. In his experience, women who shoved the emotional parts of their lives into neat little boxes were the ones who usually ended up crying I’m-so-fucked-up tears after sex. And that was not his thing. No matter how much he enjoyed being needed, there was a difference between wanting to treat a woman like a lady, lavish her with nice things, and take care of worrisome aspects of life, and wanting to fix a woman’s deep-seated emotional issues.
“Hey, Dylan,” Missy, a sexy redhead with a wide mouth purred as he brushed past.
“Hey, Missy,” he said without slowing down. He’d blown off her advances for two years. He had no interest in a woman who had sucked off half the men who came into his bar.
He pulled Tiffany closer, staking claim for the leering dudes at the bar and as a deterrent for women like Missy, of which there were many. Owning the bar had its benefits, but along with having more friends—and willing women—than any man needed, there were gold diggers and social climbers.
Right now all he wanted was a few minutes to figure out the intriguing woman in his arms, which hadn’t been on his mind last night after Mick’s wedding. That fuck would have been all about conquering the hot blonde who his brother had said would eat him alive. But now that he had some distance—and had just come from visiting Bethany, which always gave him a healthy dose of perspective—he was almost back to his old self. That guy who was usually up for a quick fuck, but there was no way a quick fuck was going to be enough with this sexy vixen. He wantedmore, and that clearly wasn’t going to happen, which should put her in the no-strings department. But she lived in his building, which meant he should know who he was dealing with. Besides, hewantedto know more about the woman who had occupied his thoughts for the last twenty-four hours.
“Nearly every woman in here is salivating over you,” Tiffany said with a hint of annoyance.
