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"Yikes. Not even on the rocks, huh?"
I glance slightly at the woman sipping a martini a couple of stools away until I see the pink hair. It's the woman I was watching earlier. Despite the dimness of the club, I can get a better look at her here, and she really is a stunning creature. A teasing smirk graces her lips, dark freckles peek through her makeup, and her blue dress plunges in the back and the front, hugging soft, slight curves and drawing the eye of any hot-blooded man around.
She grins, and I realize I've been perusing her, obviously. "You like?"
I turn back to the bartender as he slides the Negroni to me, and I debate walking to some other lonesome part of the club. But I doubt there's a quiet corner to be had here, given the crowd, and this pretty little gambler still looks amused by my need for alcohol to take the edge off, so I turn towards her and arch a brow.
"What's not to like?" I say, looking over her meaningfully as I drink from my glass.
She laughs and lifts her martini. "Back at you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody."
This woman isn't shy, something I appreciate. Blushing girls lose their intrigue quickly for me, but she doesn't even bat an eye as I join her.
Instead, she nods over her shoulder and says, "Don't look now, but someone's about to pop the big question."
I look anyway, and sure enough, a man drops to his knee on the dance floor and proposes to the woman who's been grinding against him. People all around clap and cheer as she accepts, and then the two begin kissing as if the honeymoon starts tonight.
"Do you know them?"
The woman shakes her head and tosses the olive from her martini glass into her mouth. "Nope. He's been a nervous wreck all night. I'm surprised he wasn't slipping around on all that sweat he's been leaking. I noticed the outline of the ring box in his pocket when he came to get a few shots of some liquid courage a couple minutes ago. Obviously, he wants a real Vegas affair."
Impressive deductions.
"It won't last," I mutter, downing more of the Negroni.
She giggles. "You're a real ray of sunshine."
"I'm a realist."
"That's a synonym for apessimist.Besides, maybe they have a romance of the ages," she argues. "The kind of love people dream about all their lives. That soul connection that just can't be faked. Maybe—"She glances over her shoulder at them and sighs. "No, you're probably right. He's checking out her best friend. Well, at least she'll get a pretty wedding out of it—I'm sure her daddy will spare no expense. So that'll be fun."
As I study the woman beside me, I fight a smile, something I rarely have to do. She catches my attention firmly on her and doesn't look away, instead clinking her empty glass against mine.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" I ask quietly.
"Oh, come on. What'll it be? Are you going to get me a drink or take me dancing?"
Now I'm really fighting a smile. She's confident and sassy. I can't pinpoint her age, but she's obviously several years younger than me—though she doesn't act like it, and she certainly seems more intelligent than most people I cross paths with in my father's domain here at the casino and club.
"Give me your name, and I'll let you pick."
She pretends to think it over, and as she does, she slips the drink from my hand to finish it off. I almost laugh at the face she makes, handing it back and muttering, "God. That'll put hair on your chest any day of the week."
"Name."
"No need to be so bossy or serious. Although, admittedly, it's really working for me. If you glower at me, you might even get lucky," she adds, bouncing her eyebrows.
I press my lips together to keep them from turning up. But I don't glower. How could I? She's charming.
"Call me…Loren."
"Is that your actual name?" I challenge, picking up on her hesitation.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she laughs and surprises me again by grabbing my hand to pull me away from the bar. "But it wouldn't be smart to tell a stranger my real name, right? Especially when he's not volunteeringhisname. And maybe I'm not always the smartest, but I always say yes to dancing, so come on."
I allow Loren to pull me into a string of dances for nearly the next half hour. When she waltzes with me, I press her closer because she is both fascinating and fucking beautiful. When the music is more upbeat, she moves to it with ease, brushing her body against mine and laughing. Occasionally, she stands on her tiptoes to say something in my ear, her lips brushing against my skin and sending desire thrumming through me.
