“Ah, fuck it,” he said to no one in particular after yet another attempt to reason his way through his uncharacteristic interest. It was unfortunate that he happened to be in the middle of a promotional meeting with Marketing at the time.
By Friday, he’d had enough. After his last meeting of the day, he drove down the mountain and crossed over into Birch Falls in record time. Of course, the trip was a lot faster in his powerful Benz than it had been in the beat-up Honda.
All eyes turned to him the moment he entered Tommy’s. It took him a moment to realize he was still in his Black Label Ralph Lauren suit and matching overcoat.
With the confidence of a man in his position, he walked up to the bar, took a seat and ordered one of the top-shelf Scotches.
“I know you, don’t I?” said the bartender sporting a Tommy’s polo. Aidan recognized him as the same man who’d worked New Year’s Eve. He thought he might be the owner.
“We’ve met,” Aidan confirmed. “I was in here New Year’s Eve.”
The guy’s eyes narrowed a little bit, then cleared, and Aidan knew the guy had placed him, too. “Right.”
“That’s actually why I’m here. I was wondering if you could tell me the name of the young lady that was sitting over there in that corner booth that night.”
Tommy’s hand paused mid-stroke as he wiped down the bar in front of Aidan; the conversations on either side of him grew silent, and the tension in the room suddenly increased.
“There were a lot of women here that night,” Tommy said noncommittally.
“Not like this one,” Aidan pressed. “Brown hair, brown eyes, about yay-big.” Aidan held his hand up to his shoulder. “She was sitting right over there, alone.”
Tommy didn’t even look up. “Sorry, can’t help you.”
“You talked to her. Her first name is Mary, and - ”
“You got a hearing problem? I said I can’t help you.”
Tommy was standing at his full height, leaning menacingly on the bar, his palms flat. Aidan met his glare with one of his own. After seven years of holding his own against the Callaghans, he wasn’t even slightly fazed by Tommy’s aggressive posturing.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just looking for a last name.”
“You won’t find it here. Drink’s on the house. Now get the fuck out.”
Aidan was not at all inclined to leave, but the two large men who had made their way over and now flanked him on either side were rather persuasive. Aidan reached into his pocket and dropped a twenty on the bar for his drink, along with a business card. Tommy glanced down while chewing the toothpick between his teeth. Aidan could tell by the expression on the bartender’s face and the way one brow lifted that he recognized the name.
“Aidan Harrison, huh?”
Aidan nodded, then turned to leave. “If she comes in again, I’d appreciate it if you could see that she gets this.”
He felt their eyes on his back as he walked across the floor and out the exit, but no one made an attempt to stop him.
Well, hell. That hadn’t gone at all like he’d hoped. The card he’d left with his personal number on it was already lining the bottom of the nearest trash receptacle.
*
Mary put down her book and sighed in frustration. It was a great read, but so unfair. It gave such false expectations, nothing like reality. The leading men were always gorgeous, wealthy, strong and virile. Honorable rogues who were skilled in so many ways, falling hard and irrevocably for the “right one”. Fiercely possessive, they took care of their women.
She snorted. As if such a man really existed.
An image of golden hair, skin and eyes flashed into her mind, but she buried it quickly. She was already worked up enough from the steamy erotic romance to start thinking about him again, or to feel the sharp pain of regret at having burned his card.
Then again, she had done so for exactly this reason, hadn’t she? She knew that she would break down, and in a moment of extreme weakness (like the one she was having right now), she would have picked up the phone and called him, if for no other reason than to hear his voice, whiskey smooth and conjuring up images of body oil and silk sheets...
Lord, but he was a good looking man. Probably the finest she’d ever seen, if she was totally honest with herself. Everything about him appealed to her – his face, his hair, his voice, his scent. Oh, and she couldn’t forget that body. If that wasn’t created to answer a woman’s every erotic fantasy, she didn’t know what was. Expanses of golden skin, lightly dusted with slightly darker bronze hair. Layers of lean, hard muscle. The man screamed of sensual, dark power just barely leashed beneath the surface.