“Would you like for me to be?” His eyebrows lowered, and a dark smirk filled his face.
I smiled as he extended his hand toward me. “I’m Tomas. What’s your name?”
“Grace.” Choosing my name for the evening was a game we played once in a while. So far I’d only picked virtuous names by alphabet: Amity, Charity, and now Grace.
“Do you come here often?” He gestured for the bartender to bring him another drink.
“Never been.”
His arm finally brushed against mine as he leaned closer. “Interesting choice.”
He asked me what I was doing in town, and as usual, I kept things vague. I was on a personal trip to find someone important and I needed a drink to settle my nerves. Which was the truth.
“Have you found what you’re looking for yet?” he asked me smoothly.
Does he mean my search for my parents or my desire to see him tonight?
Faintly, I felt his fingertips press on the middle of my back. A light caress meant to tease. I needed much more than that tonight.
“Not yet.” All this small talk was nice, but my patience was running out.
Down the bar, a group of women were eyeing Tomas. They smiled repeatedly and pointed in his direction. The countdown began until a drink would come his way. He had that effect on other women. Just like he did on me. What made me different, though, I told myself, was that I didn’t care.
Less than a minute later, a glass of expensive brandy appeared—along with a business card with a phone number. “From the ladies over in the corner,” the bartender said, “with their compliments.”
“Show-off,” I couldn’t help but whisper.
“Have you had any bought for you yet?” Tomas replied.
“The night is young. Sooner or later, someone will become brave enough to buy me a drink, but I think we should go somewhere quiet before the cougar club comes prowling your way.”
I turned my head toward his, trying to keep myself from falling for him. The intensity of his gaze had a way of making me succumb every time.
“We should.” He placed a few bills on the bar to pay for both of our drinks.
Somehow, I added distance between us. For a fleeting moment, I told myself to walk away. If I were smart, I would’ve already buried my feelings as deeply as he did.
“Let’s go then,” I said.
I left first and he trailed behind me. Not once did he touch me. We left the Subarctic Club and made our way to the busy street. A Maserati sedan waited at the curb. Silence settled between us as we slipped inside. This was the game we always played. No polite conversation to ask how the other was doing or even a dinner to set the mood.
All these things were my own fault, though.
I was the one who’d made Tomas this way.