“That’s cheesy? I think it’s kinda nice-cheesy. Rather than sleazy-cheesy.”
“Well it’s good to know which box I’m in.” His sparkle was back. His eyelashes were so long, I had to look closely to check he wasn’t wearing mascara. The city was full of metrosexuals, but I wasn’t about to go to bed with a man who wore makeup. I liked a guy who thought anything other than shower gel and shampoo was strictly for people with vaginas.
But Ryder’s lashes were bare of any enhancement.
“So, why don’t you tell me something that no one else knows? Something real,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes as he looked at me as if he was trying to figure out whether he could be honest. “Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because I worry I won’t get it all done before I die,” he said, looking away and into his drink.
The sparkle left his eyes when he’d spoken and I reached for him but didn’t want to touch, didn’t know where that would lead, so left my hand resting on the wood next to his drink. “Get what done?” Maybe he was back from visiting his grandfather and contemplating his place in the world.
“Everything I’m here to do.” He stared at my hand and I pulled it away. “You never think about it? What’s left at the end?”
His expression was so sad, I wanted to make it better.
“Not on a Tuesday,” I replied in a matter-of-fact way.
He looked back at me, grinning. “That’s a good strategy. I’m going to try it. Now, your turn.”
“Something no one else knows?” My family knew me very well and Marcus knew me inside and out. “I’m not sure there’s anything no one else knows.”
“Liar,” he whispered.
I was pretty sure this conversation wasn’t the sort that led to bed. It certainly didn’t feel like foreplay.
“Okay, one thing no one else knows,” I said, pulling my shoulders back and picking up the two cocktails the barman set down in front of me. “I think you’re a sexy guy.”
And before I could catch his expression, I turned back to Violet with our drinks.
Had I just said that? Well, it was true. And no one else knew it except me. I mean, I’m sure plenty of people told him he was a sexy guy. But I hadn’t told anyone. Not until I’d told him. I wanted to let out a squeal. I couldn’t believe I’d actually said it. I was pretty sure Violet would approve.
“Why did you leave him? It looked like it was going well,” Violet complained as I sat back down opposite her.
“What did you expect? That he’d flip me over the bar and fuck me in public?”
“Maybe,” she replied.
I chuckled. I’d not gotten his full name. And he’d not asked for my number. But it had been fun. And not as scary as I’d expected.
“Well at least you’ve lightened up. Just think how much lighter you’d be if you’d fucked him.”
“Sex isn’t the answer to everything.” It wouldn’t save my company or pay the mortgage.
“Yeah but good sex makes everything a little bit better,” Violet said.
“I couldn’t agree more,” a man said from beside us.
I snapped my head around to find Ryder standing over our table. How much had he heard?
“I think you’re sexy,” he said, staring straight at me. “And I want your number.”
“I’m just leaving,” Violet said, grabbing her purse and scooting out of the booth.
“Wait, I’ll come with you.” It had suddenly gotten very hot in here and I needed some air.
“No you won’t,” Ryder said. “You’re staying here for a little while. With me. I want to get to know you a little better.”
Violet’s mouth widened in a bright smile. “You heard the man with the accent. Call me later. I love you.” And before I had another chance to argue she’d disappeared and I was left sitting opposite the sexiest British guy I’d ever met, who didn’t seem to find me boring at all.
Three
Ryder
I hadn’t planned on fucking anyone tonight. I’d only gone to the bar to avoid falling asleep in my apartment. I’d left London at noon and if I could stay awake until midnight Eastern, I wouldn’t be plagued by jet lag.
But jet lag was the last thing on my mind now.
Even if I didn’t go home with her and fuck her into the early hours, the beautiful woman in front of me was going to keep me awake all night. The memory of her raven-black hair and the way she kept trying to swallow her smiles would keep me bright, alert and hard.
“You live in Manhattan?” I asked.
She nodded. “I have a small place in SoHo. I moved from Connecticut just less than two years ago.”
“Connecticut?”
“Yeah. I grew up there. Got married there. Stayed until my divorce . . .” She trailed off at the end as if she didn’t want me to hear.
Interesting. She didn’t look old enough. “Were you married long?”
She slid the napkin that sat underneath her drink to the left. “Long enough.”
She wasn’t giving much away. She was hot. And feisty. And had more than a little Scarlett O’Hara in her. But I didn’t have Rhett’s patience. Sex was an escape. It wasn’t about emotions or opening up or any of the shit that women thought it was. It was release—mindless oblivion.
I took a sip of my Negroni.
“Have you been married?” she asked.
I almost choked on my drink. As if. I hammered on my chest with my fist, trying not to look like a total dick.
Married? Well wouldn’t that make everything easier? I’d managed to lock it away in the back of my mind for a few hours. And there it was back in a flash—the thought of losing Westbury Group to Frederick. Or Fred-a-dick as we used to call him as kids.
“No, never been married.”
“Come close?” she asked.
Didn’t she get it? We weren’t on a date. We were just passing some time until it was acceptable to leave and fuck.
Did I want to get in deep? In her? Yes. Emotionally? Hell no.
“I’ve known a lot of amazing women.”
She tapped her index finger against her glass. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or disapproval. “I imagine you have.”
I leaned forward and whispered, “You seem pretty amazing.”
She tried to bite back that half smile again as she shook her head. “You’re a cheeseball.”
“Because I give you a compliment?” I asked, a little confused. Women ordinarily thought I was smooth. Or so I thought.
“No, because you can’t possibly know whether I’m amazing. But I get it. You’re trying to get me into bed.”
It was almost as if I was hearing exactly what she was thinking. And it was refreshing and a little bit uncomfortable. “Well, you’re right about me trying to seduce you. But I’m not confessing to the cheeseball thing.”
She gave me a full smile and my stomach roiled. Talk about a weapon of mass distraction. “What happens if you’re successful and I come home with you and it ends up a disaster?” She put her hand up to stop me from answering. And I was grateful because I had no idea what to say. “Never mind,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“Go?”