Chapter 10 Scarlett
SCARLETT
“I owe you one.” Jace materialized at my side, his presence sending a ripple of awareness through the crowded bar.
One stare into his breathless eyes, and my witty retort lodged in my throat.
As captivating as it had been to see him before, seeing him now, when I wasn’t freaking out over him reading my revenge list or trying to stop my best friend’s mortification attack, I finally allowed myself to surrender to the depths of his gaze.
Those emerald orbs, flecked with amber, held an undercurrent of something mysterious.
The authority that radiated from him should have been intimidating, but something in the way the corner of his mouth lifted made my pulse react.
The fact that he’d shown me a lighter side only deepened my intrigue of him because his sharp, dominating features suggested he didn’t do it often.
“You don’t strike me as the type of guy who needs rescuing,” I challenged.
One. Two. Three seconds passed before Jace chose his response to my playful accusation, angling the right side of his mouth up. My inner thighs heated at the sight, evidently waiting for him to tell them what to do.
Traitor thighs.
“And what type of guy do I seem like to you, Scarlett?”
My God. My name had never sounded as sensual as it did rolling off his lips, an effortless symphony of velvet and seduction. There was a challenge to it even as he leaned his left elbow on the bar next to me, waiting patiently for my response.
My brain cells attempted to unionize and take me down though, so it took several seconds before I replied, “The kind of guy who has a good sense of humor, but doesn’t normally let people see it.”
Hallelujah! My vocabulary and ability to string words into coherent sentences have returned.
As he scrutinized my features, wandering vision and all that, I couldn’t tell if I’d offended or impressed him.
“Observant, aren’t you?” he cooed.
Impressed, I guess.
“She’s pretty.” I cocked an eyebrow, gesturing toward Red Dress with my drink. Better to acknowledge the elephant in the room—or rather, the gorgeous woman who’d been flirting with him earlier.
“Didn’t notice.”
Something in his tone sounded absolutely sincere. Or maybe I was just hearing what I wanted to hear. Either way, it was mean to feel flattered that he sat with his back to the woman, who was now pouting, by the way.
Jace claimed the barstool next to me, angling his entire body in my direction like I was north to his compass.
“She was probably nervous talking to someone who looks like you,” I managed, wiping a droplet with a fresh napkin.
The right side of his mouth lifted in that criminally unfair half smile, one perfect eyebrow arching upward.
“Someone who looks like me?” Each word dripped with amusement, like he was savoring my verbal stumble.
“In case you haven’t noticed, almost every woman’s been staring at you since you walked in.” Including me. Especially me.
Despite the ridiculous attraction, I found my muscles relaxing into a more comfortable posture.
“Every guy in this place has been looking at you,” Jace countered, his eyes roaming my face like an artist memorizing every curve, every shadow so he could draw it later from memory.
“That’s not—” I cleared my throat, scrambling for solid ground. Preferably ground that didn’t sound self-deprecating, insisting no one would be staring at me. Instead, I opted to change the subject. “I’m sorry my friend bothered you earlier.”
“I’m not. Gave me another excuse to talk to you.”
Another. That one word floated through my chest like a joyful hummingbird.
“Tell me about this revenge list.” The edges of his words sharpened.
Poor hummingbird. I could hear its little heart attack in my chest as it dropped from disappointment.
I could feel my face fall, too, as I muttered, “If that’s why you want to talk to me, you should go back to the girl in the red dress before it’s too late.” I tore my focus away from his dangerously handsome face and stared at my glass.
“This revenge list thing lands next to a nerve, doesn’t it?” He studied me—way too perceptively.
Many nerves. And you know what? That made me even angrier. Why would I care if his only interest in me was that ridiculous list?
Ego. That was the only explanation. It would be nice if he was interested in me, not just my randomly weird behavior.
“I’m sorry,” I deflated, smoothing my napkin. “I assure you I’m not normally this rude, and for the record, I’ve never made a list like that before.”
“So, whatever this guy did to you must be really bad.” It wasn’t a question. His eyes had turned calculating, like he was piecing together a puzzle I hadn’t meant to hand him.
“I’m not talking about the list.” Or about how your concern is doing dangerous things to my heart rate.
“May I ask one question about it?” May. Who even used proper grammar while flirting? This man was doing unfair things to my inner language nerd. “Should I be worried this is some violent ex that’ll come in here and hurt you?”
Stand down, hormones; he’s just checking on my safety. Don’t get all bent out of shape at the fierce protection pulsing through his stare.
“No,” I assured him. “I’m not in any danger.” Except of losing my job. And maybe my sanity if he keeps looking at me like that. “I don’t want to talk about the list or work.”
Jace raised his dark eyebrows. “I take it, the guy is a douchebag from work?”
I cocked my head, scolding him with my glower. Evidently, he didn’t find that intimidating; he found it adorable, based on the way his eyes roamed over my face and his lips slanted up.
“No discussion of the list or work,” he conceded, his voice smooth as hell. “I can handle that, but I do have a request.”
“And what’s that?”
“Tell me everything about yourself,” Jace said.
“Everything’s a long list,” I retorted.
“I have all night.”
The promise in those words made my pulse skip. The bar buzzed with energy around us, but he seemed perfectly content here, alone with me. Still …
“Are you meeting someone?” I wondered aloud.
Jace’s lips pressed against his glass as he took a long, casual drink. Seriously, even watching him take a sip of his drink was borderline pornographic with how sensual it was, his lips softly pressed against the glass, his forearms on full display.
Oh, and let’s talk about those forearms. Long lines. Tattoos sprawled across his skin, which stretched tightly over lean muscles, yet his hands remained unmarked. Long, elegant fingers that drew my gaze. I couldn’t help but wonder how those bare, stunning fingers would feel, gliding over my skin.
“No. Just came in for a drink,” he answered.
“Stressful day of work?”
“You said you didn’t want to talk about work.” His eyes glistened with amusement.
“My work,” I clarified. “We can talk about yours.”
“I’d rather not.” Something dark flickered across his expression, gone before I could analyze it.
“Want to make a list of your own?” I offered playfully.
“Other people’s incompetence is infuriating to deal with.
” The way he said it, resigned yet authoritative, made me even more curious about what he did.
Sales maybe? You had to be good with people to exude this much natural charm.
“Enough about me.” His tone bordered on playful again, this time with a sexual undercurrent. “I want to hear everything about you.”
I checked the rideshare app. “I have thirty minutes until my ride shows up.”
“That’s all you’ll give me?”
“You want more?”
“I was hoping for all night.”
My cheeks incinerated. Did he seriously just say that?
“That’s rather forward of you.” Delightfully so actually. Dampening-of-my-panties so. “We just met.”
“Indecision is one of the leading causes of failure,” Jace said. “When you see something you want, you need to make a choice and go for it.”
“Am I something you want?”
“Without question.”
“You know nothing about me.” I forced myself to sound reasonable. “I could be a stalker. Or someone who collects dead animal skulls.”
Jace’s lips curved as his gaze traveled over me slowly. My body responded, unleashing a tidal wave of warmth that rippled over my skin and pooled between my legs.
“I know you came to a bar to blow off steam with your friend after what, apparently, was a terrible day, most likely terrible at work,” Jace mused.
“Based on the fact you made a revenge list after said day, I’m guessing something big went down.
Some asshole did something completely out of line, maybe even hurt you, and I’m banking on that asshole being someone you’re forced to work with every day. ”
Holy observant, Batman.
I was frozen in his storm as he continued, “Based on the fact your friend is the one that came over to me and tried to hook us up, you’re not the type of woman that goes to bars and hits on men.
At least not often. The way you carry yourself with a sophisticated elegance tells me you’re intelligent and care about your career.
Most women who are half as stunning as you have body language that says they know every eye in the room is on them, but not you.
You stare forward, looking at your drink, or during the best moments of the night, look over at me.
All of it with the body language that you’re not acutely aware that you’re the most gorgeous woman in this bar. By far.”
Good Lord. Who actually talked like that? And why was it working so spectacularly well?
“How am I doing?” Jace asked.
I shrugged, resisting the urge to push back on the claim I was the most gorgeous woman here. Something made me want to match his confidence.
“Not bad,” I answered.
“I want to know more though.”
“Such as?”
“Do you live in Chicago, or are you visiting?”
“Full-time occupant,” I answered. “You?”
“I live near Chicago, but not close enough to commute home when work is heating up here. Staying in a hotel at the moment.”
Hotel. With a bed. Stop imagining him lying on it naked, Scarlett.
“I should have asked this sooner,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“That would have been a deal-breaker?”
“Never been one to cheat.”
That one moral line drew me in even more. In the times I’d been hit on by men, if they asked about my dating life, none of them had ever made it clear cheating was off-limits.
“Have dinner with me.”
Jeez, this man is nothing if not aggressive with what he wants. And I’m all for it, my hormones squealed, especially if what he wants is me.
“Again with the statements rather than questions.” I smirked.
“Will you have dinner with me?” he revised.
“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea,” I allowed.
Although, suddenly, once again, I couldn’t remember why. And once again, a twinge of panic seized my stomach at the thought of him walking away and never talking to him again.
Worse, after all his persistent attempts to spend time with me—each one that met with my rejection—Jace finally seemed to accept the message.
He took a sip of his drink, his expression shifting from hopeful to resigned.
He sighed, his voice dropping an octave when he spoke again, the flirtatious tone replaced with unmistakable disappointment.
“May I have your phone?” Jace held his palm out.
Eyeing him curiously, I handed it to him and watched as he put his contact information in and handed it back.
“I hope you’ll call, Scarlett.”
What was I doing? I didn’t want to let him go! Was I this much of a prude? Was Dakota right? Was I too stuck in my own thoughts to let loose and have fun?
Regret washed through me as he rose, and even though I had his number, there was something magical about tonight that might never be repeated again. He could leave, these feelings could cool, and I’d always wonder what would have happened if I’d just … stayed.
Before I could think of what I’d say or do to unravel the worst decision I’d made since arriving at the bar, I rose to my feet too.
Only … my high heel caught on the barstool’s base.
Gravity betrayed me for the second time tonight.
The second time in front of Jace, thank you very much, only this time, he caught me.
Easily. Effortlessly. His strong hands held my forearms, steadying me, and as my attention drifted up his stomach, his chest, the beautiful base of his throat, and to his jaw, I found his smirk was back.
The one that suggested he found my tumble utterly and devastatingly adorable.
“Are you clumsy, Scarlett?”
His fingers trailed up my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, but he didn’t stop there. His touch ghosted down my jaw, leaving a trail of heat in its wake while his focus drifted to my lips.
My heart beat its chant of yes-yes-yes as he stilled for several seconds, unable to look away, unable to step away, unable to release his fingers from my jaw. Instead, he glided his finger beneath my chin, and still staring at my mouth, he tilted my face up.
My body stretched higher, willing his mouth to come faster, but I swore to criminy, time decided to go all slow motion on me as those full, sexy lips inched agonizingly closer until finally, gloriously, they pressed to mine.
Heat exploded from my lips and traveled down my throat, my stomach, and shot right between my thighs.
I’d never had this reaction to anyone kissing me before.
Never. It was soft but charged with so much chemistry as his tongue trailed a line along my lower lip.
When he slid his tongue past my lips, I actually let out a groan.
In public.
Dear God, this man could kiss.
I could kiss like this all night, all day, all year.
His tongue was gentle yet dominant, his grip on my face growing firmer as he stepped closer and opened his mouth wider.
Surrendering to his vortex, I reached my hand up and trailed my fingers through his silky hair.
I wanted him to set me on the bar and bury himself in me.
I wanted him to rip my clothes off and spread this magic across my body, my breasts, and my sex.
I wanted to look him in the eyes as he buried himself in me.
“Please.” His voice was rough with need. “Don’t leave.”