“Anytime. I’m glad you came.”
When the taxi stopped in front of his hotel, he turned to her.
“I thought we might have a little more privacy here. We could go to the bar, have a drink and talk, and you wouldn’t have to worry about the kids popping in. What do you say?”
Katrina hesitated. Just what kind of expectations did Grant have? What kind did she have? She wasn’t ready for this. Or was she?
It was just the bar, right? And she could go home whenever she wanted to.
So why was her pulse shooting out of the stratosphere?
She’d barely survived dinner with Grant, and all he’d done was hold on to a strand of her hair.
This man was not good for her. He made her think about things. Hot, sexy things she had no business thinking about.
Still. Just a drink. Play it cool, like he didn’t matter. She was very good at this.
She shrugged. “Sure, but then I’ll have to leave. I have a lot of details to iron out and I have to fly out tomorrow.”
He smiled, his hand at her back. “Me, too.”
As they walked through the doors of the hotel, she asked, “Details to iron out, or flying out?”
“Both.”
He motioned with his hand to the left, toward the bar. It was very late, but the bar was well attended. Vacationers, maybe some business travelers. Perhaps people in town for the game? One of the things she’d always enjoyed about travel was guessing the reason for people’s destination.
Their waiter came by and she ordered a cognac. She felt wound up, and she figured that would relax her.
Grant ordered whiskey.
While waiting for their drinks to arrive, she looked around at the people populating the bar.
“Looking for someone?” Grant asked.
“No. It’s a game I play whenever I travel. I try to figure out what people are in town for.”
Their waiter arrived with their drinks. She took a sip and let the warm liquid slide down. Sweet, sultry, she felt herself relax after a couple swallows.
Much better.
“Is that right?” he asked. “Okay, tell me a few of your guesses.”
She held the glass in her hand, but motioned with it toward the couple in the corner. “She’s in a short dress, he’s in nice slacks and a button-down shirt. Obviously not here on business, but not dressed as tourists, either. My guess? Honeymoon.”
He studied them, too. “Why honeymoon and not anniversary?”
She shrugged. “Just the way they’re looking at each other, like a massive hole in the ground opening up between them couldn’t separate them. It’s new love, not mature love. Plus, they’re young. And look at the way he’s rubbing her back, touching her hair. It’s like he can’t keep his hands off of her.”
She nodded, reaffirming her initial thoughts. “Definitely honeymoon.”
“Or they’re having an affair.”
She shot him a glare. “Hey, cynic. Don’t ruin my imagined young-love honeymoon here.”
He laughed, then took a sip of the whiskey. “Maybe they’re just getting to know each other and they’re in those initial stages of hot lust. When you know you really want someone, and you can’t wait to get your hands on them, get them naked, and explore their body.”
He dragged his gaze away from the couple and planted it firmly on her, those gray eyes of his turning stormy dark with desire. He laid his arm across the rear of her chair, his fingers lightly teasing the back of her neck.
And then he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
The contact was electrifying.
“That’s why he can’t keep his hands off her, Kat. He wants her. This whole touching and leaning thing in the bar is foreplay. He wants to get her up to the room as soon as possible so he can take her clothes off and run his hands and mouth over every inch of her skin, to see if she tastes as delicious as she smells.”
Katrina’s breath caught.
“You smell like something exotic, a musky, enticing scent I can’t quite put my finger on.”
He pressed his lips to the side of her neck. She let out a small gasp, and shivers popped up on her skin.
“But I’d like to put my mouth on you. All over you, Kat, until you screamed my name.”
She swallowed, her throat gone dry. She lifted her glass to her lips, her hand shaking as she did, then took a sip to coat her throat.
“Do you want that?” he asked.
“I … no. I don’t.”
He kissed the side of her neck again. “Okay.”
Then he straightened, picked up his glass, and downed the rest of his whiskey in one shot.
“Point out someone else and tell me what you think.”
He seemed calm and together, whereas she was an utter wreck. Her nipples were tight points of aching, screaming need, her clit was throbbing and her panties were damp. She was turned on and ready to straddle him right there in the bar, ready to beg him to give her the orgasm she so desperately craved.
And he, Mr. Oblivious, calmly watched everyone else in the bar, completely out of tune with her needs.