I listen for a few more moments, try to decide if that’s really heavy breathing I can hear. Who does that, seriously? Shaking my head, I hang up and suppress a shudder. I’m being paranoid. No one has recognized me since I moved to London and it’s been years. My ex might have uncovered the video of me, but that was only shortly after I quit the business.
Still, I need to play it cautious. That means no friends and definitely no dating or I’ll have to move and start all over again. An elderly lady approaches and I paste on a smile, realizing it’s my next appointment. Definitely no dating, and no Hunter, I vow silently. I can’t afford for anyone to find out I was once a porn star.
***
Hunter
I swirl the beer around the bottom of the bottle and eye it. It’s a Friday night and the bar is packed. Laughter and conversation mingles with the clatter of glasses and the low thumping music. I’ve been lucky enough to grab a seat by the bar but Murphy’s is rammed, men and women jostling for space. A few regulars are crouched over the bar like me. Except they’re old and worn. I probably look out of place propping up the bar. Though I feel worn and jaded.
Jess pauses in front of me. I’ve watched her for almost two hours now. Always guarded, she keeps a careful smile on her face. Men try to talk to her—who wouldn’t?—but she remains reserved. She works hard and I’ve barely had a moment to say anything to her.
Maybe I shouldn’t have become one of the dozens of guys vying for her attention tonight. My Irish charm failed me the moment I first met her and I’ve been playing catch up ever since, coming into the bar every night in the hopes of getting closer to her. If I’d have known this damned job was going to be so much hassle, I’d have told Jess Callahan’s stepfather to shove it. Tracking down a lost little rich girl is not my idea of fun.
I crick my neck and shake my head. Too bad I need the money. With my investigation business badly in the red, what other choice do I have? Somehow I need to find out what Jess has done with the fifty thousand she stole from her stepfather, Carl, but I never counted on running into her at the bank and my plan to carefully approach her and maybe ask her out flew out the window. Even in a prim little suit, she managed to fuck with my head. Which is not good. I don’t want to ask her out for a good time. I want to ask her out so I can close this case.
Her lips curve upward in the first genuine smile I’ve seen in ages when she stops to chat with the older guy behind the bar. Something twists inside me. That smile makes her appear even younger. Underneath that thick black eye make-up and red lipstick, there’s a sweet innocent thing begging to be unleashed. I recall how she looked in the school picture I have on file for her—all blonde hair and healthy glowing skin. She’s gorgeous now but I’m willing to bet she would be stunning as a blonde with no make-up too. Even from her old picture, it was clear she would grow up to be a heart-breaker.
I flick on what I hope is a charming smile as she approaches. Her smile wavers. It’s been so long since I’ve done the whole seduction thing. I went through plenty of women a few years ago but one too many of them made a good attempt at breaking my heart so once the business started going under, I gave up on dating. Once I’ve got things under control, I’ll consider the dating scene again. In the meantime, the odd one night stand will do for me.
“Can I get you another beer?” Even over the din of the pub, her voice is breathy. I can sympathize. I feel the same in her presence. A little like she’s sucked the air from the room. Almost lightheaded. It’s fucking inconvenient. I’m meant to be trying to find a way into her life so I can hunt down the money, not be considering how damned hot she is.
Her eyes seem enormous under the bar lights. It adds to her whole mystique, teases the curious side of me. With dark chocolate hair, golden skin, a ton of dark eye make-up and a Celtic tattoo around one arm, she looks like a bad girl. And I know she is. Good girls don’t steal fifty k and run away from home. But the innocence in those eyes—which are a greeny hazel in this light I think—is throwing me off my game.
Just my luck she happens to be my bank advisor too. What kind of joke is that? The bank worker who has stolen thousands. Maybe she’s planning to rob the place or something. I warm to the idea. That makes sense. Steal some bank details and go on the run. My hunch she was hanging around to make some more money might be right. The only problem is that means she’s a smart criminal and that will make my job much harder.
I study the arch of her neck and follow it down to the curves under her black T-shirt, embellished with the Murphy’s logo. The bar hides her legs but I’ve watched her go back and forth enough times to have caught sight of her endless legs, clad in fishnet tights. Her rear encased in tight denim shorts will remain forever emblazoned in my mind.
“Hunter?”
I snap my gaze up and force myself to focus on her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Get yourself a drink too.”