“Rex Harrison.” Addison smiled as she approached the bar. “Rosie is all ready for you. What do you think?”
To let him know she didn’t mean his pinscher’s grooming, she leaned against the bar to give him a better view of that low neckline—even Prince Charming probably needed baiting.
She toyed with Rosie’s leash, wrapping it teasingly around her finger. But Rex’s loving gaze was still glued to his pedigree pooch. Oblivious to her efforts, he bent down and gave Rosie a pet.
Addison thought she heard a soft snort from behind the bar. When she turned to the bartender, he was studiously wiping down the glass counter, but she could have sworn that was a smirk on his full lips.
“Wow,” Rex said, drawing her attention back to him. “Rosie’s fur has never looked so shiny. How did you manage that?”
Addison beamed. “That’s the yogurt and oatmeal rub.”
“Yogurt?” He glanced up and seemed to notice her for the first time.
If she’d had a tail, it would have wagged. “The yogurt strips away the dirt and adds moisture, while the oatmeal treats the skin and softens the fur. It also makes for an excellent breakfast,” she joked.
He smiled, standing up to take in the full view of her body. “I can think of better breakfasts to make.”
“You like to cook?”
“Only when it’s for someone special.” Rex swirled his drink before taking a sip, eyeing her above the rim. “Maybe I could cook for you sometime.”
That would make Addison “someone special.” “That sounds nice.”
He reached into his suit coat. “Here’s my card. Why don’t you call me sometime?”
“Maybe I will.” She took the card and traded it for Rosie’s leash.
“Thanks again,” he said. “Come on, Rosie. Shall we go for a walk?”
The pinscher’s nubby black tail wiggled in response.
Rex gave Addison a wink and turned to head across the ballroom, holding the leash aloft in true show form. Rosie trotted alongside him, already showing off for the judges attending the cocktail mixer.
Addison was watching him stroll away when a small wastebasket was thrust in front of her, obscuring her view. She flinched and turned to find the sexy bartender holding it out. His dark eyebrows quirked up as he shook the basket expectantly.
She frowned at it. “What’s that for?”
“For that card,” he said.
“For Rex’s card? Why?” She bit her lip, wondering if he wanted to give her his number instead. “He told me to call him.”
“You and about ten other women at this party tonight.” He shrugged and put the wastebasket under the bar again. “But it’s your call.”
Her face fell. “Ten?”
The bartender tilted his mop of dark curls across the ballroom where Rex was slipping another card from his pocket. He flashed it at a young brunette server.
“Oh …”
“Don’t feel bad,” the bartender said. “I’ve got eyes like an Afghan hound. I see all. I know all. Most of all when it comes to slimeballs like him.”
Addison gave the tall bartender the once-over. He had a certain tilt to his square jaw that spoke of confidence or cockiness—she wasn’t sure which. However, she was sure that, as a bartender, he’d had plenty of conversations across a bar with a pretty woman to make it the latter.
She threw him a wicked grin. “Is that right? Or does it just take one to know one?”
She’d been that woman across the bar before, had heard every cheesy pickup line there was—she’d certainly fallen for enough of them. And she was dangerously close to falling for his.
He flashed a good-humored smile. “No. It’s because I’m in an ideal position to people-watch, to observe the human species and understand what makes them tick. I’ve had years of practice.”
“I bet you have,” she teased. “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that if you ply anyone with enough alcohol, they’ll spill their guts.”
“What can I say? People open up to a bartender. I’ve seen and heard it all. Nothing surprises me anymore.”
He held her cornflower blue eyes with his own dark gaze, and she got the impression he could sell a Jägerbomb to a nun. Maybe he had. She wondered what kinds of things he’d seen and heard.
“But there’s more to it than that,” he continued, rearranging the liquor bottles so that all the labels faced out. “There’s a difference between what people are telling you and what they’re saying. You just have to know how to read between the lines. It can be how someone enters the room, in the way they dress, what drink they order, how fast they drink it. Body language, you know?”
“Is that so?”
“Take you, for example.” His eyes roved over her.
Addison leaned in, excited to see where this was going. “What about me?”
“You walk in here like you own the place, yet you’re practically the help—”
“I’m not the help.” Her chin rose indignantly. “I’m an artist.”
“And your canvas … dogs?” He gestured to Princess.
“Well, I am an artist. Business is booming,” she told him defensively. “Before long, everyone in the doggy couture world will know who I am. I’ll be a household name.”
“What kind of house?” he asked with a sly grin. “A dog house?”
He was making fun of her. This was so not where she thought this was going.
“Look …” She glanced down at his nametag. “Felix. Canine fashion is very popular, I’ll have you know.” She ran a critical eye over him. “But what would you know about fashion?”
He wasn’t even clean-shaven for the stylish event. And his loose curls flopping around unchecked told her he’d probably never heard of styling gel. However, she had to admit he had a nice head of hair. Just long enough that the soft waves curled around his handsome face.
As though he noticed her scrutiny, he tucked a curl behind his ear. “Okay, okay. I’ve been working the dog show scene long enough to know people get really into trendy dog stuff.”
“Good. See? You don’t know what you’re talking about. And you don’t know the first thing about me.”
“Don’t I, Addison Turner?”
Her mouth popped open. She was about to ask how he knew her name when he held up one of her business cards. “I assume this belongs to you. I’ve been finding them left all over the bar.” He bit the inside of his cheek, clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m running out of garbage bags from cleaning them up.”
Ugh! Okay, he was so not her Prince Charming.
Addison didn’t need this kind of negativity. “Excuse me. But I have to look for someone.” Her shoulders kicked back as she walked away with Princess.
Felix called out to her. “Wait! Wait. You didn’t let me finish.”
Addison hesitated. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t seem to leave, especially once she saw the sheepish look he gave her. Cautiously, she returned to the bar.
“You’re right. I don’t know everything about you,” he began. “But I do know that your posture is strong and proud, like you’re six feet tall, not five-foot-nothing.”
She scowled. “Five-foot-two.” Why was she even bothering to argue with him?
“Five-two. Okay.” He held up his hands. “You’re clearly confident, gorgeous, intelligent …”
She smiled.
“But desperate.”
She gasped. “Desperate?!” Her voice rose, then she noticed an elderly couple with a Tibetan terrier shoot a look her way. She lowered her voice and hissed across the bar. “What do you mean ‘desperate’?”
“Your eyes scan this room like laser beams. Your target? Any single man.”
Her mouth dropped open, and a sound of complete and utter indignation came out. When she couldn’t find an argument, she snapped it shut and looked at Princess like “Can you believe this guy?” But she couldn’t ignore Princess’s piercing stare. The pup knew Addison too well. Okay, so maybe she was coming on a little strong.
She gave her dog a look that said “traitor” and placed Princess on a stool. “I’m not desperate. I’m just determined. I happen to be looking for Mr. Perfect.”
“Then it’s your lucky day. You’ve found him.” Felix spread his arms, presenting himself. “Right here.”
Addison snorted and rolled her eyes. “We must be talking about a different guy.”
He chuckled, not deterred in the slightest. “Oh, you mean a different perfect guy. Sorry about that.” He went back to wiping the counter with his cloth. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. There’s no guy who’s perfect.”
“Sure there is,” she said. “I just haven’t found him yet.”
As hard as she tried to ignore the guy, Felix had piqued her curiosity. He was a smooth talker, engaging, with an undeniably charming smile that bordered on devilish, the kind of smile that probably earned him a mint in tips.
“Look, I’m not saying your determination is a bad thing. You know what you want. But you’re like a woman on the prowl. I can feel the anxiety oozing off you.”
Addison rolled her eyes. “You cannot.”
“In fact, you’re getting it all over my counter.” To prove his point, he picked up his cloth and shooed her away before wiping down the spotless glass.
“And I’m not anxious.”
“Really?” His eyes dropped pointedly.
She followed his gaze and froze as she noticed the confetti in her hands. She’d shredded Rex Harrison’s card into a million pieces. Okay, so maybe she was a bit on edge. It didn’t mean she was desperate.
Felix reached under the bar and brought out the wastepaper basket again. He held it up while Addison threw away the evidence.
He leaned against the bar, resting on his elbows like he was at home and not in a room full of San Francisco’s high society. “Maybe you’re not desperate, but you’re coming off that way. You’re a pretty woman. Let the guys come to you. Besides, what are you in such a rush for? You can’t be more than twenty-four.”
“I’m twenty-eight. And thank you.” She liked how sincere he sounded. It curbed a tiny bit of her annoyance with him. “But if I’ve learned anything from running my own business, it’s that you can’t wait around for things to happen. You have to make them happen, take chances, put yourself out there.”
“Well, just don’t put yourself so out there.” He gestured with his hands like “out there” was an actual place to avoid.
But where that place was, Addison couldn’t be sure. “What do you mean?”
He leaned in until they were close enough that she could smell his cologne. The kind of cologne she’d follow a man around a store just to inhale. Princess must have smelled it too, because she placed her front paws on the counter to get closer. Felix gave her a soft rub under her chin.
“You have to be logical about it. Choosy,” he said. “You’ve got to hedge your bets and make a wise investment of your time. Think of it like a numbers game.”
“Love isn’t logical.” Addison laughed, wondering what cave this guy crawled out of. “Love is a dream come true. It’s destiny. You can’t explain it with numbers and odds. It’s a feeling.” She sighed. “Like when Meg Ryan hears her computer tell her ‘You’ve got mail’ and it’s from Tom Hanks. Love is Julie Andrews spinning on a grassy knoll, singing ‘The Hills Are Alive.’ It’s the wind beneath Rose’s arms as Jack holds her at the front of the Titanic, and the orchestra builds to a climax and—”
“And don’t forget lollipops, rainbows, and unicorns.” There was a condescending smile on his full, way-too-luscious lips.
She cocked a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “Clearly, someone like you wouldn’t understand. You’re obviously not my Mr. Perfect.”
Felix’s eyebrows shot up, but he shrugged it off. “Fair enough.”
He moved to the other side of the bar and began stacking clean glasses into a delicate pyramid. After a minute, a pretty server sauntered up to place a few orders.
Princess watched her chin-scratcher leave with a whine. I didn’t dismiss you.
Addison turned her back on the bar and continued her search. She was done wasting time on a guy who made fun of her career, insulted her, called her desperate, and thought love was about hedging her bets. She hadn’t pulled out her best dress that night for nothing. Prince Charming was somewhere in that room. She could feel it. And it most certainly wasn’t Felix.
Princess followed her cue and turned around on her stool to face the dance floor. She jutted her chest out, acting all I’m too good for you anyway.
Addison’s eyes scanned the room, totally not like lasers, checking for wedding bands on fingers. But there were hundreds of people there that night. Finding Prince Charming was going to be like trying to find a dachshund in a hot dog factory.
After a few moments, she picked up Princess and circled to the other side of the bar where Felix was talking with the server—shamelessly flirting, more like it. Addison wondered if she was one of his “numbers.” Not that she blamed him. The server was pretty, if a little obvious; she wore a bright red bra under a thin, white button-up shirt.
Setting Princess down on another stool, Addison took out a stack of business cards from her clutch. She arranged them neatly on the countertop while she waited. Finally, Red Bra left with a tray of champagne glasses.
Addison leaned closer to the bar to get Felix’s attention. “If I were to hedge my bets,” she began hesitantly, “you know, filter out some rainbows and unicorns, where exactly would I start?”
Felix’s eyes slid over to her. He seemed to think twice about helping her before finally relenting. Throwing the white cloth over his shoulder, he leaned in and dropped his voice.
“You have to look for subtle clues. Don’t be too hasty. Just sit back and watch.”
She pursed her lips. “What am I watching for?”
“General behavior. For example, if they’re eyeing up every skirt that walks by, then you’ll just be a number to them. Another skirt.”
“Like Rex.”
“Like Rex,” he agreed.
While she was watching for clues, a customer strolled up to the bar with his English bulldog in tow. He was maybe ten years older than Addison with salt and pepper flecking his hair. His smile showed all his brilliant white teeth, and when he turned it on her, she found herself glancing at his ring finger. Finding it conveniently naked, she smiled back.
Addison waited off to the side while he ordered a whiskey on the rocks and left. Once he was out of earshot, she leaned across the counter. “How about that guy?”
“Married,” Felix said.
She frowned. “But he wasn’t wearing a ring.”
“He took it off.” He tucked away the bottle of whiskey. “There was a faint white line around his ring finger where the sun couldn’t tan it.”
“Maybe he’s recently divorced,” she said.
“Or separated. And if it’s that fresh, do you want to risk being a rebound?”
“Okay, let’s try someone younger then. How about that guy over there?” She pointed across the room to the man tapping his foot to the jazz music.
Felix’s eyes flitted around until he spotted the guy. He shook his head. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. He’s gay.”
“Really?” She appraised the man in question. “I usually have pretty decent gaydar. How can you tell?”
He smirked. “Because he gave me his number.”
Her head snapped toward him. “Are you …?” She eyed him, searching for the clues he saw in others, reading between his lines.
Felix shook his head. “Considering what the sight of you in that dress does to me, I’d say I’m straight.”
Addison opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Before she could find something to say, another man came up to the bar. This time, she ignored the newcomer. Instead, she gave Felix another look as he fixed a Bloody Mary.
The bartender held himself like he was the biggest, baddest dog in the neighborhood and he knew it. And big he was. Broad-shouldered and muscular, he stood a good foot and a half above her—which wasn’t tough, since she was so short. But he wasn’t the hard, ripped kind of muscular that meant his favorite topic would be how many grams of protein he’d eaten that day or how many reps he’d done. It was a comfortable kind of muscular. The kind made for working rather than looks and was perfect for snuggling. Not that Addison was imagining what it would be like to snuggle with him. Okay, who was she kidding? She totally was.
While Felix cleaned up his station, she nodded toward the customer leaving with his Bloody Mary. “How about him?”
“No.”
Addison blew out a breath, her blonde bangs fanning out. “Okay.”
Felix wasn’t wrong; the bar seemed the prime place for watching people. If they weren’t wandering up to it for a drink, they were congregating around it. She pointed out several more men, but each time she found a potential Prince Charming, Felix shot them down for one reason or another: too rich, too flirty, too awkward, too good-looking.
“Too good-looking?” Addison asked. “Is there such a thing?”
“Do you want the man on your arm drawing attention away from your good looks?” Felix grinned.
She flashed one right back. “No one could draw attention away from me.”
“Touché.”
“And besides that, what’s wrong with being too rich?”
He shrugged. “I suppose if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“No. I’m not out for someone rich. You don’t choose who you fall in love with. But if it turns out that way, it doesn’t hurt to never have to worry about money.” Financial problems were something she knew about all too well.
He relented with a tilt of his head. “I’ll second that.”
“There has to be someone you approve of,” Addison said to Felix. “Do you always see the worst in everyone?”
“Occupational hazard,” he conceded. “But your faith in people makes you an easy target for men. You need to be more discerning.”
“At least I’m open to the possibility of love.”
“Or an unrealistic ideal of some Mr. Perfect fantasy. It’s delusional,” he said, but not unkindly.
Her chin rose a fraction. “I like to think of it as optimism. You, on the other hand, have rejected practically everyone at the party.”
“Well…” His eyes dropped to the counter. “Not everyone.”
Addison blinked at him, realizing he meant himself.
The bartender was right up her alley, both physically and when it came to his sharp wit and brash charm. He was the kind of guy she’d snatch up like a cashmere sweater from a Boxing Day bargain bin. But that was just the problem. She’d dated enough Felixes to know he didn’t fit into her fairytale dream. She wasn’t looking to be just another “number.”
Ignoring Felix’s hint, she turned her attention back to the rest of the room. That’s when she spotted Thor. Okay, well, he probably wasn’t the Norse god, but he sure looked like him—very Chris Hemsworth. To add to his dignified appearance, he stood next to his English mastiff. He was the perfect picture of godliness. The kind of guy who should pose for canvas paintings.
Thor was tall and broad, his frame filling out his designer suit like it was an extension of his body. It was as though the chandelier’s light had been created just to shine down on his close-cropped golden hair, to highlight his strong features. It was heaven’s light sending her a sign.
“What about him?” Addison’s voice was hushed, matching the reverence of that fated moment.
Felix followed her gaze and huffed. “Well, if you like that obviously rich and handsome act.”
“You can’t act rich or handsome,” she said.
“I mean, what is he trying to prove with that chiseled jaw and those perfectly straight teeth?”
“So, what you’re saying is you can’t find anything wrong with him.”
Addison stood there, breathing in the moment, committing it to memory so she could reflect on it for years to come. She wanted to recall everything about it when, on their wedding day, she retold the story of how they met.
She sighed, maybe a little too loudly.
Princess seemed to give her a nod, as if to say, This is it.
Addison set the doxie on the hardwood floor and blew a kiss at Felix. “Wish me luck.”
He scowled. “I thought it was destiny, not luck.”
“What can I say? You’ve made a big impression on me.”
He stood a little straighter, a grin spreading across his face. “I have?”
“Yeah. I think you’re right. I need to be more logical about love and hedge my bets. And I bet he’s my Mr. Perfect.”
The smile slipped from Felix’s face as Addison turned and headed toward the owner of the English mastiff.
She felt as though she was walking in slow motion. This really was it. Her search for the perfect man had been building up to this one romantic moment in time. It was the climax of her movie.
As she made her way across the room, the crowd moved like it was parting for her, for them, making way for destiny. The red-bra’d server passed by, the movement raising a breeze that blew Addison’s golden hair like a wind machine.
As though he sensed her, Thor looked her way. His eyes were drawn to hers like it was scripted. Or, better yet, predestined.
The jazz band in the corner drowned out the clinking glasses, the occasional bark, the murmur of voices. It all faded away. It was just the two of them, hurtling through time and space, overcoming all odds to meet at this exact point. Like it was meant to be.
Addison moved faster and faster, and Thor rushed toward her. Some unseen force drew them together. Then she realized it was their dogs tugging on their leashes to close the distance between them.
The heels made it difficult for Addison to hold back Princess. They skidded and clicked on the polished floor. Since her soul mate’s dog probably weighed two hundred pounds, she imagined Thor had a harder time. But it didn’t look like he was putting up much of a fight. Not with that dazed grin on his face—probably the same one she had on hers.
Addison’s attention was so fixed on him that she’d forgotten there were other people in the ballroom. So, when she bumped into a passing server handing out champagne glasses, it came as a complete surprise to her—and him.
The silver tray went flying. Glasses smashed around their feet. Addison stumbled forward. The server tried to catch her, but Princess had stopped to lap up the champagne, and they both got caught in her leash.
Addison pitched forward. Her hands flew out. The hardwood floor flew up to meet her.
But she never reached it. Instead, she landed in cashmere-clad arms, staring into eyes as blue as the heavens from which he fell: Thor.