Chapter One #2
“That is impressive, and I liked that place. It was the in spot.” She takes another drink.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. What did you like?” I nudge her with my knee. “The owner?”
“The food .”
“Well, that’s something. To the food.” I lift my glass, and she joins me in a toast. “A’right, beautiful, you got the truth out of me. Now it’s my turn. Your friends left after you had dinner, and you stuck around hoping I’d come by, right?”
Her eyes dance with amusement. “More like, to drown my sorrows.”
“Your sorrows? Those words should never come out of your gorgeous mouth. Did you lose a big business deal?”
“Ha! You clearly don’t know me. I never lose business deals, big or small.” She runs her finger around the rim of her glass, her expression turning contemplative. Those pretty eyes flick to mine. “Today is the anniversary of the day I met my late husband, Harvey.”
My chest constricts. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Vic.” I knew she was a widow and had lost her husband a while back. “That’s got to be rough.”
“It is what it is.”
I lift my glass. “To Harvey. He must’ve been a hell of a guy to have won your heart.”
“He was.” She taps her glass to mine, smiling again. “To Harvey.”
We drink, and then I ask, “Do you want to talk about him?”
“Thanks, but no ,” she says emphatically. “He’s been gone for several years, and I’ve had enough alcohol that I’m not overthinking it. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Okay, Harvey is off the table.” I sweep my arm between us like I’m pushing Harvey away and go for a smile, waggling my brows. “How about me? Am I on the table?”
An almost-silent laugh tumbles out, and she takes another drink. “You do make me laugh.”
“That means I have a shot. Who’s my competition? The friends you had dinner with?”
“No, but you have dated one of them,” she taunts.
“At least I know they’re female.”
“I had dinner with Leni and Shea. They plied me with alcohol and upbeat conversation, as good friends should.”
Leni was Sutton’s sister. She worked for their cousin Shea Steele at her PR firm.
Shea didn’t grow up on the island with us, but Leni and I dated in high school, and it didn’t end well.
We remained friends, despite Leni carrying a chip on her shoulder toward me, which I fully deserved.
We finally talked about what had happened a year and a half ago and smoothed things over, but I’m curious about what she’s told Victory.
“Leni, huh? Did she sing my praises?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but she thinks you’re a good guy. Even if you’re a shameless flirt who will probably never settle down.”
Thank you, Leni. “She knows me well and she loves me. You will, too, one day.” I lift my chin. “You can’t resist this face forever.”
“It’s a wonder I’ve lasted this long.”
“It is a little shocking, but hey, it’s the thrill of the chase, right?”
“The chase,” she says longingly, and gazes absently over my shoulder as if she’s watching a scene play out. She picks up her glass and swirls it, watching the alcohol slosh over the ice. “I was the one who chased Harvey.”
“He’s a lucky man. I like a woman who goes after what she wants. To the thrill of the chase.”
We toast, and then her attention returns to her glass as she sets it on the bar and wraps both hands around it, her fingers tapping to the beat of the music. “I haven’t been chased in so long, I can’t even remember what it feels like,” she confesses.
“Come on. You’re joking, right? A smart, attractive woman like you must have guys lining up to take you out. You can level with me,” I say coaxingly. “Are you swiping the right way on the apps? Do you need a tutorial?”
She winces, and when her eyes find mine, they’re daring and slightly cautious. That hint of vulnerability in this fierce lioness is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “Actually, I haven’t gone there yet.”
“I don’t blame you. Dating apps have their purpose, but they pretty much suck. You probably don’t need those apps anyway. You must meet plenty of guys in your line of work.”
“I do. I meant I haven’t dated since I lost Harvey.”
My thoughts stumble. “At all?”
“Other than my standing solo date at our favorite restaurant every Friday night?” She shakes her head. “I married the love of my life. I’m not looking for a replacement.”
“Who said anything about getting married? We’re talking about dating, going out, and having fun with a guy. You said it’s been several years. Did you mean like two ?”
“No.” She leans forward and whispers, “It’s been five.”
“Five years ?”
“Don’t say it like that.” She smacks my chest, laughing.
I catch her wrist, noticing a small pink butterfly just below her palm.
“Sorry, but this is a tragedy. Don’t you miss human touch?
” I place her hand on my cheek and slowly move it along my jaw and across my chin.
When her fingertips graze my lips, she breathes harder.
“Touching a man?” I run her fingers down my neck and over my pecs.
“Feeling a strong body against yours?” I press a kiss to the back of her hand.
“Warm lips on your skin?” Lust shimmers in her eyes.
I lean in and brush my scruff along her cheek, speaking low, into her ear.
“The scratch of a man’s scruff on your thighs? ”
As I sit back, she drags her teeth over her bottom lip, but as if she’s caught herself tempted by me, she tugs her hand free and reaches for her glass. “I need more alcohol for this conversation.” Downing her drink, she waves the bartender over.
So fucking sexy.
An hour later, we’re swapping funny stories about dating and being hit on, and she’s still trying to explain why she hasn’t dated.
“From what I’ve seen, dating is overly complicated now.
What happened to getting to know each other over a game of Scrabble and some sushi?
Or a movie and pizza? My life is busy and complicated enough.
Just thinking about dating is a lot. Maybe it’s different for men.
Have you watched any of those Dateline shows?
You can’t even invite someone you’ve just met over to your place because they might be a serial killer. ”
“That’s what you’re worried about? Then you might want to keep this zipped so nobody swipes your wallet and figures out where you live.” I reach over and zip the small purse that’s dangling from thin straps draped across her body.
“I thought it was zipped. Thanks. But I’m serious, and it’s not just serial killers. I can’t imagine trying to find someone who’s not intimidated by my success or into me because of it. I bet there are plenty of gold diggers out there who want your silver spoon in their mouth.”
I smirk. “You said it, not me.”
Her eyes widen as understanding dawns on her, and she laughs. Her laughter is contagious, and that smile is fucking with my head the way it did at the wedding and at my family’s annual holiday dance at the resort after Sutton and Flynn got engaged.
Victory is so unguarded tonight, I wonder if it’s because we’re not surrounded by her family. I feel like I’m seeing a side of her she rarely unveils. Or maybe she reveals it often and just hadn’t around me. All I know is, it’s intoxicating, and I want to see more of it.
“I guess that’s one way to get to your fortune,” she says, and picks up her glass. “To gold diggers.” We toast. “All right, Silver, give me your best gold-digger story.”
“My best ? I don’t usually spend enough time with women for them to get their claws into me, but there was one who my brothers and sisters will never let me forget. She was a tourist on the island for the weekend, and she was older than me.”
“How much older?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, I need a visual. How old? What color hair?” She motions with her fingers for me to give her more.
“She was blond, curvy, and probably eight or ten years older than me. I don’t know. I was twenty-three and had just taken over the restaurant. I thought I was hot shit.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” She waves her hand. “You thought you were hot shit? Are you telling me there was a time when the great Wells Silver was not arrogantly confident?”
She’s a fucking trip. “Hell no. I was trying to be humble.”
“Nice try, but that’s not your strong suit.” Her eyes glitter with the tease. “Okay, go on. You’re a hot-shit twenty-three-year-old restaurateur, and in comes this gorgeous woman, one of a long line of them, I assume, who wanted to sleep with you.”
“You’re good. That’s accurate,” I say arrogantly. “Her name was Kelly, and we hooked up once.”
“Did you enjoy it?” she asks.
“What kind of question is that? Who doesn’t like sex?”
She rolls her eyes. “Have you honestly never had bad sex?”
“I’m driving the train, so no , I haven’t.”
“You’re so arrogant. You’ve never been with a woman who just lay there?”
It’s time to show her who she’s dealing with. I thread my fingers into the ends of her long hair, tugging her closer. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, sugarplum. I could make a dead woman squirm.”
She laughs, like I’ve made the funniest joke ever.
“Don’t laugh.”
“That wasn’t a very humble thing to say.”
“I was just being honest.”
“Okay, magic dick ,” she says sarcastically.
“Maybe you’ve forgotten that there are many other ways to pleasure a woman besides fucking her.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” she says a little sharply.
“Are you?” I tug her closer. So close I can smell the whiskey on her breath. “I could make you beg for my cock using nothing more than a single finger.”
Her mouth opens like she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t say a word, and her brow furrows. “No way.”
“ One finger.” I let that sink in. “Or the tip of my tongue.” I slide my tongue over my bottom lip, and her gaze tracks it. “My teeth are lethal, and don’t get me started on my—”
She puts her hand on my chest, her cheeks flushing as she pushes back, but only a few inches. “You’re an excellent storyteller. That’s more action than I’ve gotten in years.” She fans her face. “How about we go back to the tourist story?”