Chapter 4
HELLO STRANGER
Michelle
I hadn’t been expecting the barrage of questions tonight when I was nearly mobbed by fellow therapists as I attempted to walk away from the lectern.
I’d never felt so popular. They fired off questions for me on treatment and guidance for love and sex addicts, and I’d happily answered all of them to the best of my ability.
Finally I’d gathered my notes and made my way down to the lobby, pleased with my work for the evening.
Sharing insights and learning was great, but I was ready to be finished for tonight.
Tonight. The word reverberated through me, and I felt the slightest pang when I remembered it was a Thursday.
Clay and I used to grab drinks on Thursday nights.
While we still did from time to time, along with my brother, Davis, the get-togethers had been curtailed since Julia moved in with him.
Understandable; the man was committed, and now he was married.
Julia hadn’t cut me off; in fact, his wife was lovely, and I’d visited her bar a few times.
But it was simply too hard for me to see them together that often.
I’d kept them in my life, but put myself on a restricted Clay-and-Julia diet.
Nights like this though, I missed those Thursdays. Reliving the highlights and winding down with someone special.
And I missed the drinks, truth be told. I could certainly go for a little nightcap to finish off the day.
So here I was at the tall, sleek metal bar, ordering a scotch that arrived quickly and taking out my iPad.
I had an article I wanted to finish, and then a novel to dive into about a con artist, and I’d even downloaded a new app for practicing Spanish phrases.
I lifted the cool glass to my lips and took the first sip.
Raising my eyes, I noticed that the same man I’d seen earlier was seated at the end of the bar, drinking what looked to be a scotch too.
The glass hit my lips at the exact same moment, my moves mirroring his.
His blue eyes seemed to sparkle, a hint of wicked delight in them.
Same drink, same time, same absolutely gorgeous guy I’d spotted an hour before. One barstool between us. When I set my glass down, I said, “Jinx.”
“Jinx,” he repeated.
“Does that mean you owe me a drink?” I asked, and then nearly clasped my hand over my mouth. But instead, I went with it. “Sorry, that’s pretty much close to the cheesiest pick-up line ever.”
His lips curved slightly into a grin. “Does that mean you’re trying to pick me up?”
I laughed and shook my head. The silvery metal surface of the bar revealed a rush of red racing to my cheeks as I answered, “No.”
Those words had just tumbled out accidentally, not because I’d seen him earlier and memorized his face, and not because one quick glance at Mister Cool, Calm and Collected had me adding him to an arsenal of possible late-night ammunition to feed my active fantasy life.
Very, very active, and I fed it regularly. With books, with toys, and with wild images of pleasure.
“That’s too bad then,” he said, and his voice was deep, with the slightest rasp to it, like velvet that had a rough edge. That edge in it sent goosebumps down my spine. Or maybe it was his words, the hint of possibility to them.
“Is it? Too bad?” I asked, tilting my head to the side, shifting my body language, one hundred percent aware that I was getting my flirt on.
“Not just too bad. It would be a travesty.”
I brought my hand to my heart, playing along. “How sad. I’d hate to be responsible for a disaster of that degree.”
“You could avert it, then,” he said dryly, arching an eyebrow, then taking another swallow of his drink.
The sight of his lips on the glass had my mind galloping off.
His lips looked soft and kissable, while the rest of him looked hard and strong.
I liked the way his tie was loosened, and his jacket draped over his chair. A businessman in repose.
“I could, couldn’t I? If I were interested in avoiding such a sad turn of events,” I said.
“Are you, though? Interested?” he asked.
I was almost certain a butterfly had taken off in my belly when my stomach flipped, and it was primed to flop again.
“I’m getting there,” I said playfully, enjoying the back and forth, the very fine layer of innuendo that lined this conversation like a cool evening mist after a hot day.
I brought the glass to my lips and took another drink, hoping it would have the same effect on him that his sip had had on me.
“Excellent,” he said, giving me a quick, appreciative nod. “So…are you having a good evening?”
“I am, as a matter of fact. Productive day, pleasant evening, perhaps a…satisfying night overall,” I said, and he chuckled softly when I said satisfying.
“What would make your night more satisfying?” he asked, his cool blue gaze pinned on me. Then he raked his eyes over me, and I shivered.
“I enjoy a satisfying conversation.” I threw down the gauntlet. He seemed like a good sparring partner.
“Let’s satisfy you conversationally then,” he said, picking up the challenge easily.
“Now, I could ask you what you do for a living, but everyone does that. I could ask what brings you to this hotel, but that’s also trite.
Instead, why don’t we talk about something that people don’t usually discuss.
For instance, what is your favorite body part? ”
I burst into laughter at his out-of-left-field question and the completely deadpan manner he asked it in, but then quickly grabbed the baton of the conversation. “On me, I would have to say it’s my elbows. I have absolutely amazing elbows,” I said, crooking my arms and showing him my elbows.
“You’re right. Those are stunning elbows. Smooth and soft, and yet pointy too. And they make the arm move.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” I said, demonstrating playfully. “And my second choice would be my right butt cheek.”
“Not the left one?”
“Well, they both are pretty nice.”
He raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “I bet they’re spectacular,” he said, that sexy gravel of his voice sending a charge through me.
“And you?” I asked as my skin heated up. “Your favorite body part?”
“I’ve always been told I have great ears. It’s weird, but people sometimes stop me on the street to comment on my ears,” he said, shaking his head in faux wonderment as I laughed again.
“They are really nicely shaped,” I said, pointing to his ears, then looking him in the eyes, before offering a true compliment, as he’d seemed to do for me. “But you have beautiful eyes.”
He flashed me a quick smile. “Thank you. So do you. And legs. And arms. And lips. Okay, here’s another question,” he said, after he moved through the sweet litany of compliments, as if he wanted to give them but was careful to not be more forward until he knew if I wanted it.
“Wait,” I said. “You didn’t research interesting questions to ask women at bars, did you?”
“What if I did?”
“Did you?”
“No.” He held up his hands as if to say he was innocent.
“The favorite-body-part question just came naturally to you?”
“A lot of things come naturally to me,” he said, with a confidence in his voice that bordered on cocky.
I kind of liked it. More than I thought I would.
He leaned back in the barstool, his whole demeanor assured and relaxed, as if nothing could throw him off his game.
I was willing to bet he was in a profession that valued this sort of mindset.
I was also pretty sure this was an ideal mindset for random bar chatter.
“All right, then. Let’s see how you do on the other side.”
“Turn the tables on me.”
“I will. Since we’re not talking about professions, how about this one? If you had an extra thirty minutes free in the day for fun, what would you do with it?”
“Shoot hoops,” he answered immediately. “You?”
“I’d spend more time in bed,” I said, and left it up to him to figure out what I did there. When he gave me an approving nod as he downed more of his scotch, I knew he understood I didn’t mean napping.
“Perhaps we should go back to that pick-up line, then?”
“The one where I buy you a drink?” I asked, as a mischievous look flitted past his blue eyes. Damn, they were gorgeous eyes. A pure and light blue, like the crystal waters off Fiji.
“Or I could buy you a drink,” he offered, and this time the cool charm was gone, and his tone was direct. A direct line to my desire to spend more time with him, here at the bar.
There was a rustle of noise as he grabbed his phone and his glass and stood up. Was he leaving? No, he moved a seat closer, and that brief few seconds of him standing gave me the chance to look up, and admire his height. He had to be easily over six-feet tall. I had no complaints.
He gestured to the stool next to me. “Is this seat taken?”
“When you sit down in it, it will be.”
He smiled at me, and extended a hand. “I’m Jack. Just Jack.”
I shook it as he sat next to me. “Michelle with two Ls. I used to have one L in my name, but it always looked like it was spelled wrong, so I just decided to add the second L. Because I can.”
“Hell yeah, you can. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Michelle who now has two Ls. I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but I value honesty. I noticed your…pencil skirt when you walked into the hotel an hour ago.”
The way he said those words made it clear he wasn’t simply appreciating my clothes—he was admiring me. And it made me hot all over. Bothered in all the right places.
He leaned in closer, and lowered his voice to a sexy whisper. “It’s perfect for you.”
I shut my eyes for the briefest of moments, letting his words flare through my body, igniting something inside me that usually was only lit up from my fantasy life. But now I was feeling something in real life.
“And you…have a very nice suit,” I said.
He raised his glass and clinked it with mine. “To mutual admiration.”
“And to another drink, and I’ll buy. Because it looks like we’re ready for another one,” I said, glancing at my nearly empty glass.
“I’m ready for more,” he said, and brushed his hand against my shoulder.
A fresh blast of sparks raced through my body as he traced a soft line along my collarbone.
The tiny touch that started on my neck spread down, like a golden comet, leaving heat in its wake.
In the span of time, his touch was a blink, but it held the promise of so much more.
“I’d be up for more,” I whispered.
“Good,” he said slowly, seductively, that deep, sexy voice threading its way through me, settling down between my legs, turning me on to the point where I was picturing reaching for that tie, tugging him close, and learning just how good that stubble on his jaw would feel against me.
And how much more he could raise the heat inside my body with a kiss.
I ordered but when the bartender returned with the drinks and I reached for my purse, Jack placed a hand on top of mine. Firmly. “I’ll pay, Michelle,” he said in a determined tone, his bright blue eyes as fixed on me as his large hand.
I swallowed, looking down at where it was covering mine, and already my imagination revved into hyper-drive. Long, strong fingers. Big hands. Holding me down. Pinning me.
He seemed to sense where my mind had gone, or maybe he just felt the tension radiating from my body, because he didn’t move away as he paid for the drinks. Before I knew it, his fingers were laced through mine, and he was holding my hand at the bar.
I’d never known holding hands would feel so erotic, but with the charge in the air between us, this was…foreplay.
Then, it most decidedly became the start of something more when he stroked his thumb over my palm, tracing lazy circles on my skin, a promise of what he might be able to do with those hands. I nearly combusted from the spark he’d set off inside my body, like a fireworks twirler lit up and racing.
I shut my eyes briefly, breathed out, my body betraying me. There was no hiding the lust I felt radiating in the air. It was like heat in the desert, shimmering on the horizon. Undeniable.
He was a stranger who wasn’t quite a stranger, and he was the only thing I was thinking about right now.
My mind was one hundred percent here, and nowhere near my past, nowhere close to anyone else, not lingering whatsoever on the man I had thought I loved for years.
Nope. I was present, only present, and enjoying this Thursday night, and hoping it turned into more.
Into sex with a stranger.
Because that was some of the best sex there ever was. No holds barred, no past, no future, no emotions or history to cloud the moment.
I knew what I wanted tonight.
A night with him.