every direction except the flailing hand. She turned towards him for a flash of a second, eyes as wide as a deer in the headlights before she turned back and resumed her efforts to get the bartender to notice her.
Shit.
Had she seen him last Friday night? He was certain she hadn't, because he'd left the bar while she was still talking to her friend, and they'd never made eye contact. He turned his head slightly to his right and noticed a heavyset man in a yellow shirt ambling towards her.
He chuckled.
If he were in her place, he would have just walked out. It was noble that she was trying to pay her check, even at the risk of Big Bird swooping in on her. He mentally patted himself on the back as he neatly cut into the other man's path.
"Is this seat taken?"
She started to respond and turned to face him with an apologetic smile. He saw her big brown eyes widen when she realized he wasn't Big Bird. They were framed with gently arched eyebrows and inky black lashes that fluttered down as her cheeks flamed red. Her small, but full pink mouth had fallen into a tiny "o" as she took a short breath and told him he was welcome to the seat.
And like a gong, it sounded once more, reverberating through his head.
My dream girl.
He sat thoughtfully, observing her as she resumed trying to get the bartender to come over.
"Long day?"
She turned back to him with a slightly incredulous look on her face. "Yes," she got out.
In an effort to put her at ease, he offered to move. He wondered at the myriad of expressions that crossed her face, but eventually she relaxed.
Two minutes later, it appeared she'd changed her mind about leaving and as the frowning bartender poured her a new glass of wine, she smiled shyly at him and stuck out her hand. "I'm Sophie."
This was definitely not a good idea.
*****
Liz would be so proud of her.
A few hours had passed since Lucas sat down next to her. They were now nibbling on appetizers, and she was on her fourth glass of wine.
Taking another sip of wine, she surveyed him over the rim of her glass. He was the perfect candidate to help her get back on the proverbial horse. So far, everything that she'd learned about him seemed to fit her criteria. He'd shared that he was in town for work, staying at the W Hotel across the street.
Definitely no chance of running into him awkwardly, or even worse—waiting up for his call.
Hit and run! Or was it, wham, bam, thank you ma'am? Damn it, what was the idiom you were supposed to use when the situation was reversed?
But then she lost all train of thought when he leaned over. Suddenly, he was too close, invading her space.
"I would kill to know what's going through your mind right now," he whispered in her ear, his breath gently flowing over her skin.
The intimacy of their current position wasn’t not lost on her.
She couldn't place his aftershave, but his clean, masculine scent assaulted her senses. Her nerve endings were on fire, and she could feel the long-forgotten curl of warmth deep in her belly.
She’d been about to respond, when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.
Arrested by the heat emanating from his gaze, Sophie blanked.
"Oh, nothing interesting," she croaked.
You twit. You bloody fool. Britney the bartender would have had this in the bag two hours ago. That's really all you can say? Nothing interesting? What is wrong with you?
"Are you sure?" he teased. "You looked like you were pretty deep in thought, just now."
She remained silent for a few moments, reminding herself exactly why she’d come to the bar by herself that night.
Then she placed her hand over his.
She was about to defy the female gospel, go against all the rules her friends coached her on, and rebel against all the mantras she'd read in the self-help section of Barnes & Noble.
He regarded her steadily, obviously amused.
"Look," she started out shakily, feeling a little lightheaded.
"Yes?"
"I, um, well. I haven't done anything in a really long time.
Shit.
Had she seen him last Friday night? He was certain she hadn't, because he'd left the bar while she was still talking to her friend, and they'd never made eye contact. He turned his head slightly to his right and noticed a heavyset man in a yellow shirt ambling towards her.
He chuckled.
If he were in her place, he would have just walked out. It was noble that she was trying to pay her check, even at the risk of Big Bird swooping in on her. He mentally patted himself on the back as he neatly cut into the other man's path.
"Is this seat taken?"
She started to respond and turned to face him with an apologetic smile. He saw her big brown eyes widen when she realized he wasn't Big Bird. They were framed with gently arched eyebrows and inky black lashes that fluttered down as her cheeks flamed red. Her small, but full pink mouth had fallen into a tiny "o" as she took a short breath and told him he was welcome to the seat.
And like a gong, it sounded once more, reverberating through his head.
My dream girl.
He sat thoughtfully, observing her as she resumed trying to get the bartender to come over.
"Long day?"
She turned back to him with a slightly incredulous look on her face. "Yes," she got out.
In an effort to put her at ease, he offered to move. He wondered at the myriad of expressions that crossed her face, but eventually she relaxed.
Two minutes later, it appeared she'd changed her mind about leaving and as the frowning bartender poured her a new glass of wine, she smiled shyly at him and stuck out her hand. "I'm Sophie."
This was definitely not a good idea.
*****
Liz would be so proud of her.
A few hours had passed since Lucas sat down next to her. They were now nibbling on appetizers, and she was on her fourth glass of wine.
Taking another sip of wine, she surveyed him over the rim of her glass. He was the perfect candidate to help her get back on the proverbial horse. So far, everything that she'd learned about him seemed to fit her criteria. He'd shared that he was in town for work, staying at the W Hotel across the street.
Definitely no chance of running into him awkwardly, or even worse—waiting up for his call.
Hit and run! Or was it, wham, bam, thank you ma'am? Damn it, what was the idiom you were supposed to use when the situation was reversed?
But then she lost all train of thought when he leaned over. Suddenly, he was too close, invading her space.
"I would kill to know what's going through your mind right now," he whispered in her ear, his breath gently flowing over her skin.
The intimacy of their current position wasn’t not lost on her.
She couldn't place his aftershave, but his clean, masculine scent assaulted her senses. Her nerve endings were on fire, and she could feel the long-forgotten curl of warmth deep in her belly.
She’d been about to respond, when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.
Arrested by the heat emanating from his gaze, Sophie blanked.
"Oh, nothing interesting," she croaked.
You twit. You bloody fool. Britney the bartender would have had this in the bag two hours ago. That's really all you can say? Nothing interesting? What is wrong with you?
"Are you sure?" he teased. "You looked like you were pretty deep in thought, just now."
She remained silent for a few moments, reminding herself exactly why she’d come to the bar by herself that night.
Then she placed her hand over his.
She was about to defy the female gospel, go against all the rules her friends coached her on, and rebel against all the mantras she'd read in the self-help section of Barnes & Noble.
He regarded her steadily, obviously amused.
"Look," she started out shakily, feeling a little lightheaded.
"Yes?"
"I, um, well. I haven't done anything in a really long time.
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