except for the addition of the whisky, but that only added to his tantalizing scent.
From the way Simon was hacking up a lung, she didn’t think she’d done a very good job of propositioning him. And wasn’t that just like her? She’d worked hard to ace every class she’d ever taken—she was a lifetime member of the National Honor Society—but she was a social misfit. Maybe Mel should have given her the remedial version for the socially challenged.
When Elyse got up the nerve to look at Simon, she was relieved to discover he looked as if he might actually live. For a while there she’d wondered. “Are you okay?”
Simon coughed once more, his eyes shiny with tears, and then nodded. “Fine,” he croaked, clearing his throat, poured himself a shot of something amber-colored, and then downed it before meeting her gaze. “I’m good, just surprised. Pleasantly surprised.”
“Why?”
“You hardly know me. . . . I mean you know me, but we haven’t seen each other in . . . well, it’s been a long time.”
“Six years, but I doubt you’ve changed that much.” At least she hoped he hadn’t. His girlfriends always walked around with a permanent smile on their faces—at least until he dumped them—and Elyse didn’t think the smiles were because he was busy showing them his etchings. Not that his art wasn’t enough to make a girl swoon. Lord knew, she’d been swiping sketches off his refrigerator since they were kids.
Elyse stared at Simon’s mouth. He had full, kissable lips, and the way he slid his tongue to the top of his lip when he was deep in thought, or wondering if she was completely nuts like he was now, sent her imagination into the nearest gutter. Man, she’d spent years dreaming about his tongue—she’d imagined how it would feel. . . .
“Fitz?”
Her nickname sounded foreign coming from him. He’d only ever called her Elyse or Trouble. No one from Mountain Lakes, their smaller than small hometown, ever called her by her college nickname. Oh, God! She felt her ears flame as the realization hit her. He didn’t know who she was. If he did, he’d call her Trouble for sure.
“Fitz? Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She took a swig of her fresh beer. Should she tell him and take the chance of wrecking her dream come true? Or let him think whatever it was he was thinking until after they had sex? If she wasn’t completely off base, hot sex was exactly what he planned. God, she hoped she wasn’t completely off base. If she were, she’d die of embarrassment. “So, you didn’t answer the question. Your home or mine?”
“Where do you live?”
“Washington Heights. All my classes are at the Manhattan campus.”
“My place is closer. I’m just a few blocks away.”
She did a mental fist-pump. “Your place it is.”
Simon brought her an assortment of food to snack on and did his best to pay attention to her while serving his customers. Elyse sat back, listened to the band, and watched Simon as he worked.
* * *
Simon didn’t like leaving Fitz at the other end of the bar, but Bree was in the weeds and had to deal with the waitstaff so she was running between the front and the back. It just made more sense for her to work the end where Fitz sat—it didn’t mean he had to like it—especially since men were circling like sharks.
He went to ring up a drink and got Bree’s attention.
“What do you need, Simon?”
“Keep an eye on my date while you’re on that end of the bar. Make sure no one bothers her. Her name is Fitz.”
Bree laughed. “Fitz? What kind of name is that?”
“Not sure. I’m just glad I overheard her friend call her by name, or I’d still be winging it.”
“And how did Fitz become your date? She walked in here with a man that wasn’t you.”
Simon made change and slammed the cash drawer shut with his hip. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”
Bree laughed even harder. “Right. What’s the real story?”
“Her date gave Wanda a
From the way Simon was hacking up a lung, she didn’t think she’d done a very good job of propositioning him. And wasn’t that just like her? She’d worked hard to ace every class she’d ever taken—she was a lifetime member of the National Honor Society—but she was a social misfit. Maybe Mel should have given her the remedial version for the socially challenged.
When Elyse got up the nerve to look at Simon, she was relieved to discover he looked as if he might actually live. For a while there she’d wondered. “Are you okay?”
Simon coughed once more, his eyes shiny with tears, and then nodded. “Fine,” he croaked, clearing his throat, poured himself a shot of something amber-colored, and then downed it before meeting her gaze. “I’m good, just surprised. Pleasantly surprised.”
“Why?”
“You hardly know me. . . . I mean you know me, but we haven’t seen each other in . . . well, it’s been a long time.”
“Six years, but I doubt you’ve changed that much.” At least she hoped he hadn’t. His girlfriends always walked around with a permanent smile on their faces—at least until he dumped them—and Elyse didn’t think the smiles were because he was busy showing them his etchings. Not that his art wasn’t enough to make a girl swoon. Lord knew, she’d been swiping sketches off his refrigerator since they were kids.
Elyse stared at Simon’s mouth. He had full, kissable lips, and the way he slid his tongue to the top of his lip when he was deep in thought, or wondering if she was completely nuts like he was now, sent her imagination into the nearest gutter. Man, she’d spent years dreaming about his tongue—she’d imagined how it would feel. . . .
“Fitz?”
Her nickname sounded foreign coming from him. He’d only ever called her Elyse or Trouble. No one from Mountain Lakes, their smaller than small hometown, ever called her by her college nickname. Oh, God! She felt her ears flame as the realization hit her. He didn’t know who she was. If he did, he’d call her Trouble for sure.
“Fitz? Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She took a swig of her fresh beer. Should she tell him and take the chance of wrecking her dream come true? Or let him think whatever it was he was thinking until after they had sex? If she wasn’t completely off base, hot sex was exactly what he planned. God, she hoped she wasn’t completely off base. If she were, she’d die of embarrassment. “So, you didn’t answer the question. Your home or mine?”
“Where do you live?”
“Washington Heights. All my classes are at the Manhattan campus.”
“My place is closer. I’m just a few blocks away.”
She did a mental fist-pump. “Your place it is.”
Simon brought her an assortment of food to snack on and did his best to pay attention to her while serving his customers. Elyse sat back, listened to the band, and watched Simon as he worked.
* * *
Simon didn’t like leaving Fitz at the other end of the bar, but Bree was in the weeds and had to deal with the waitstaff so she was running between the front and the back. It just made more sense for her to work the end where Fitz sat—it didn’t mean he had to like it—especially since men were circling like sharks.
He went to ring up a drink and got Bree’s attention.
“What do you need, Simon?”
“Keep an eye on my date while you’re on that end of the bar. Make sure no one bothers her. Her name is Fitz.”
Bree laughed. “Fitz? What kind of name is that?”
“Not sure. I’m just glad I overheard her friend call her by name, or I’d still be winging it.”
“And how did Fitz become your date? She walked in here with a man that wasn’t you.”
Simon made change and slammed the cash drawer shut with his hip. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”
Bree laughed even harder. “Right. What’s the real story?”
“Her date gave Wanda a