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I wrapped my hand around my bracelet and kissed it, drawing strength from it. But not quite enough…
I took another shot of passion juice and gathered my courage. Look out world, here I come.
A phone number. That was all I was asking for.
I got up out of my chair and received a double thumbs-up from Hazel.
I crossed towards him, tossing my hair to one side before remembering my hair was only shoulder-length and wouldn’t have the swooshing sensation I was aiming for. I threw my hips out, adopting the best catwalk I could.
The attention of girls at other tables snapped in my direction, like a gang of vipers looking for weakness in a newly-hatched iguana. Glaring at me not to do it, to not even make the attempt. I saw myself among them.
What the hell was I doing? I don’t do this kind of thing.
Their jealous eyes squinted. “We saw him first,” those expressions said. “He belongs to us.” I ignored them all and kept my eyes focused on him.
It wasn’t like this relationship was going anywhere. Within a few hours, I’d be driving up the motorway, never to darken his doorway again.
A phone number, I told myself. That was all I needed. Get that, and I knew I could do the same thing back home with a guy I might actually have a relationship with.
I didn’t become intimidated by the man until I saw him up close. My legs shook and I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. He was over six feet tall, broad across the shoulders, clearly in great physical shape. His torso had that awesome upside-down triangle aspect to it, with a narrow waist and wide shoulders. He had a chiseled jaw and might have just stepped out of an old western movie. He leaned with one elbow on the bar.
Just looking at him turned me to jelly. What would happen if his tongue was on me?
My legs shivered again. Okay. Too much imagination. This wasn’t a scene in one of my books.
I had a terrible feeling I was going to be The Failure, as I referred to them in my books. The girl who made the first attempt always struck out. It would leave the way open for the next girl to come along and succeed by comparison alone.
He raised a hand to the bartender and ordered a drink. The other women watched me as I crossed to him. Looking, waiting, hoping for me to make a mistake.
Sorry, ladies. Not tonight.
The handsome guy picked up his drink and raised it to his lips. His eyes flicked up and surveyed the crowd. He didn’t spot me until I came within two yards of him.
His eyes dipped surveyed me in a fraction of a second. Did he like what he saw? His lips were a cross between a purse and a smile. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
“Hi—” I said.
My final step would take me to within a couple of feet of him. My heel caught in the groove of a floorboard and slid along its unflinching route.
That was it. I was going down like the Hindenburg.
Time slowed the way it did when death was near—death from absolute embarrassment. I fell backward, my legs bending beneath me, my dress riding up over my extending thigh. The whole bar would see I was wearing Minnie Mouse underwear and all those viper scowls would turn to gales of laughter.
But I didn’t hit the floor. Someone caught me.
The hot guy.
He had one arm wrapped tightly around my waist, the other placed on my thigh—not touching me indecently but to hold my skirt down to prevent me from flashing the entire bar.
From being the laughing stock of the entire establishment to straight into the arms of my handsome hero in one fell swoop.
He lifted me with his powerful arms as if I weighed nothing more than a feather, and set me on my feet. I ran my hands over my dress and hair.
“Careful,” he said with a small smile that made me want to nibble on the dimple that formed on his cheek.
“Right,” I said, flustered. “Right. That’s… That’s good. It’s the floor. It’s very slippery. Who thought it would be a good idea to have grooves when women are walking around with high heels? I’ll never understand it.”
“A fool, for sure,” the guy said.
