EARLIER THAT NIGHT
Oh, her feet hurt. Most every woman on the continent would know exactly the pinch and squeeze that abraded her skin. Heels. Why had she thought they were a good idea for her first tech expo? What was she trying to prove? And, given she traveled alone, who was she proving it to?
It was early, as the almost deserted hotel bar highlighted, but still evening, giving her the green light for alcohol. After five p.m. was the rule everywhere, right? She slid onto the central stool at the long bar and breathed out her bliss when the pressure left her feet. Yeah, they still ached, but she’d take any win.
The bartender came wandering over. “What can I get you?”
“Rum and Coke… and a tequila shot.”
“Bad day?”
“Long day,” she said on a smile as he went to fill her order.
Maybe she should eat. Did she want to eat? When was the last time she ate? Her breakfast coffee was a distant memory.
“Excuse me.”
The masculine voice brought her attention around. Mm, hello. Tall, gorgeous, shirt, tie. Serious. Playing with him might be fun. If only she wasn’t so damned exhausted.
“Can I help you?” she asked because he just stood there glaring. If this was a move, the guy wasn’t too smooth. “Is something wrong?”
“That’s my seat.”
Glancing along the bar, she twisted to check out the line of empty stools behind her. “Seriously? It’s not like there’s nowhere to sit. How is this your seat?”
He nodded to something beyond her. “That’s my drink.”
She looked over her shoulder at the all-but-empty whiskey glass. “It’s closer to the other stool.” It was a judgement call, was it closer? Yes, by a hair. “And it’s all the way across at the bartender’s side. That suggests finished to me.”
Her smile narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to move?”
“I’m not going to move.”
On principle? Partly. She also didn’t want to put weight on her poor feet again.
“Okay.”
That was that then. Bye, guy.
The bartender came over to put down her drinks. “If my feet didn’t hurt so much, I’d jump up on this bar and kiss you.”
“Put it on my tab, Mike. I need another,” said a male voice behind her.
On a snicker, the bartender went away and there was the seat guy, sliding onto the stool next to hers.
“Are you kidding me? There are fifty seats in this room. You’re picking that one?”
“I could say the same to you,” he said. “Of all the places you could’ve picked, you chose mine.”
“It wasn’t yours,” she said on a sneer. “You don’t own the stool.”
“Know the guy who owns the hotel.”
“Oh, and I’m just so impressed,” she feigned wonder with a hearty dose of sarcasm. “Maybe you should ask him to put a plaque on it. Post security to protect it when you go to the men’s room.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Won’t save you tonight. This is my seat. And I’m not going anywhere,” she said, tossing the tequila shot down her throat. “For a very long time.” Mike came over with the seat guy’s drink. “Now I need another one of these.” She raised her shot glass. “Two. If Mr. Connected over here is paying.”
As Mike retreated, a hand appeared in front of her. “Jamison.” Oh, Mr. Connected. “Dawes.”
“Good for you.” She landed a suspicious eye on him. “You married?”
“No.” His hand just stayed there. “You?”
“No. Why would you ask me that?”
Except, her head tilted, hadn’t she just…?
“You asked me.”
“To find out if you’re a sleazy bar creeper who picks up women in bars while your wife waits at home.”
“And you couldn’t be a sleazy bar creeper who picks up men in bars while your husband waits at home?”
Touché. Intriguing.
“Rylee,” she said and shook her head. “But I don’t want to shake your hand.”
“Because…?”
“I don’t know where it’s been.”
That wasn’t exactly the truth. Tequila was swirling in her stomach and his eyes had darkened. Oh, shit. This wasn’t the time to make bad decisions. If she could feel his pull just sitting next to him, touching wasn’t going to ease the burden. No, damn, and now she wanted to touch so much more than just his hand. She should’ve eaten something.
“I took a call,” he said, his palm settling on the bar. “Didn’t use the restroom.” She wasn’t even thinking that. He raised his glass. “Should we toast?”
“To what? I’m sitting here alone and didn’t invite you to join me.”
“I could argue you joined me,” he said, sipping his liquor. “You put yourself in my path.”
What was fate up to? The guy wasn’t wrong. And her snippy, cynical woman bit wasn’t doing its job. He was supposed to be deterred, not encouraged.
She sighed. “You were at the tech expo, Jamison Dawes?” Everyone around was. He nodded, confirming that notion. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? So much talent concentrated in a space that’s… Think if the building went on fire, humanity would be set back ten years? Technologically?”
“Twenty, at least,” he said. “Thinking about arson?”
“I’m thinking about how much we rely on technology and how it’s taken over our lives. We don’t even talk to each other anymore. No one just bumps into someone and hits it off. It’s contrived. Online. The web or apps. There’s an app for literally everything. And we can’t trust anyone in the digital world. Not even ourselves.”
“We bumped into each other.”
“Hmm,” she said, relaxing.
The precise haircut. The blue of his eyes. This was a guy who didn’t need to go online for any kind of relief. If he was interested in a woman, just looking at her would be enough. And then he dealt the killer blow and smiled.
“You’re staring,” he said on a whisper of a laugh. “You don’t think we’ll hit it off?”
Maybe. Bad idea. Yet, for some reason, she didn’t shut him down. “The night is young. I guess we’ll have to see how this plays out.”
“I guess we will.”
And when she raised her glass, he was nice enough to touch his to it. The tequila shooters were there when she put down her rum. Picking one up, she handed the other to him.
“To bumping into each other,” she said.
“To hitting it off.”
They both drank. And he was confident. Mm, she pushed her hips a little deeper into the stool.
“Why’d you leave the expo?”
“Saw what I came to see,” he said. “Why did you leave?”
“I’ve been there since first thing this morning. I was taking more of a macro view… I got all the macro I needed.”
“What’s your field?”
“Branding,” she said and shrugged. “I’ve been with my company for almost a year. They always send the recent graduates to things like this at least once. And it’s research. I have to know what our competitors are doing to know how to beat it.”
“Ah, you were spying.”
She laughed. “I suppose you could call it that.”
“Learn anything interesting?”
“Maybe. What about you? Are you a tech genius pedaling your wares?”
“No. That’s a definite no.” He drank, his eyes staying on hers, dancing with a mischief that drew her closer. “I’m building my business.”
“And you’re looking for inspiration?”
“You could say that.”
“There’s something so uncivilized about the order of these things,” she said, sliding her glass closer to his as her body turned his way. “Chaos with a floor plan and fire exits.”
“Isn’t that just an analogy of life?”
“It’s all chaos?”
“You must be familiar with chaos theory.”
A burst of laughter accompanied her smile. “Theoretical physics? Wow, that’s a unique pickup angle. You must be confident.”
“It’s just mathematics,” he drawled, all swagger. “And I didn’t know I was trying to pick you up.”
“Yes, you did.” Her crossed legs bumped his. “You wanted to pick me up the second you saw me in your seat.”
“Yeah, to dump you somewhere else.”
There was a warmth in those eyes, an ease of confidence, that offered comfort. More than just alight, the flicker of heat tantalized her aroused curiosity.
“You could’ve said nothing,” she murmured, leaning in. “Accepted my disrespect and moved on. You didn’t.”
“I’m not the kind of guy who moves on that easy.”
“Get attached to things, do you?”
“Let’s just say I’m not easily dissuaded.”
“And I’m no pushover.”
“I can tell. Do you drive your boss nuts? If you’re new, maybe you haven’t been there long enough to piss the guy off.”
“My supervisor is a woman,” she said, lifting her glass. “And I’ve been with the company for a year, so she must like something about me.”
“Not if she sent you here.” His eyes narrowed. “You must be fresh out of college. You graduate this year?”
“Wrong again. I finished college last year.”
“So you got this job out of college?”
“I started as an intern.”
And damn, he enjoyed being right. That beaming smile was evidence enough. “You’re just a baby.”
“I turned twenty-three three months ago. I am not a baby.”
“Ah, in the grand scheme of things you are, baby,” he said, laying a forearm on the bar as he tipped more liquor into his mouth.
Sliding to the edge of her stool, she bowed until her lips were just a whisper from his ear. “Thought men liked younger women.”
When his head turned, their lips got so close, she could taste the bitterness of his drink on his breath. “Got a daddy fetish?”
“Do I?” she asked, laughing as she sat up straight again. “No, I don’t have a daddy fetish.”
“Shame, I like a woman who does what she’s told.”
“Sorry, I’ve always been a rebel.”
“Saying that, I don’t mind a bad girl.”
She laughed. “Make up your mind.”
“Variety keeps life interesting.”
“Yeah, life’s a rollercoaster.” She sighed and rested an elbow on the bar. “Is this as good as it gets?”
“Life? I don’t know, we’re all on the same road. Just passing through. It’s what we make it. And I’m shocked, tech expos aren’t your idea of a good time?”
“If they are for you, then you have big problems, buddy.”
“What made you choose branding?”
“It chose me,” she said, her fingers curling under her jaw to support her head. “Sort of.” She inhaled. “I had to pick a major and coloring in wasn’t an option.”
He laughed. “Coloring in?”
“I’m an artist,” she said. “God, that sounds pretentious. Since I was young, sketching, drawing, painting—it’s what I love.”
“Not a lot of money in that.”
“No, there is not,” she agreed, stroking the rim of her glass. “In marketing, I spend a lot of time manifesting other peoples’ ideas, but it’s work, you know? And it pays the rent.”
“Ultimately?” he asked. “What’s your goal?” She frowned. “Where do you see yourself in five years? Ten years?”
“Global domination isn’t on the agenda. I just want my own slice of the world. My own little corner. Somewhere safe and happy, somewhere I can pursue my dreams. Even if I’m only moonlighting.”
“You’re practical. Pragmatic. Unusual for someone your age. Where did all the naïve idealism go? You’re fresh-faced. Where’s the wonder?”
“I like to think I’m smarter than that. My mom died just before I graduated high school. I got a scholarship and lived off her insurance money for a while. Worked so many jobs I lost count.”
“Waitressing?”
“Sometimes. I preferred doing clerical stuff. Filing. Typing. Answering phones. I did assistant work, picked up training courses where I could to make my résumé more appealing. When you’re alone in the world, you grow up fast. There’s no one around to prop me up. You’ve got to hold your head up and charge on. Overcome obstacles, don’t surrender to them.”
“Wow, that’s harsh.”
“You think I’m wrong?”
“No, I think you just got hotter.”
As his smile rose, she let herself respond in kind. “See, I knew you were trying to pick me up.”
“Of course I’m trying to pick you up,” he said and gave the bartender a signal for more drinks. “How am I doing so far?”
“It’s getting better by the minute.”