Perfect Stranger Read Free Page B

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    He spoke before I could. “If you don’t have any plans already, I’d like to take you to dinner.” There was that sultry cowboy drawl again. He stepped closer and leaned against the bar next to me. “Happy birthday, Kate.”
    Jesus. That accent was doing funny things to me. I wanted to swoon. Tilting my head back, I looked into his eyes. “Dinner would be good. The restaurant here?”
    “Sounds like a plan.” He tugged a stool next to mine and slid onto the seat, resting one elbow on the bar. “So how was your day?”
    On a scale of one to horrendous , it hovered somewhere around terrible , but that wasn’t for sharing. “Definitely improving.” I took a slug of my drink. “How was the conference?”
    “Busy. This is a good venue, though.”
    I nodded. The conversation was shifting into familiar territory. “I’ve stayed here a few times, and I like it. I travel a lot, and a decent hotel makes such a difference.”
    A couple stepped up to the bar, and Jordan eased closer to me. “Damn right. What’s the worst place you ever stayed?”
    I thought about it. “First time I went camping. My tent leaked water, probably because I hadn’t set it up right, and I was eaten alive by midges.” Jordan’s lips quirked, but I hadn’t finished. “Even worse was the shower block. Jesus . It was like a shrine to dead insects. Seriously.”
    “Not into camping, huh?”
    “These days I prefer a sprung mattress, a decent shower, and WiFi.”
    He huffed a laugh and chinked his glass against mine. “Same. Add a good gym and maybe a pool, and I’m happy.”
    My glass was empty. I watched as Jordan poured more champagne for both of us. “My little sister is backpacking her way around Europe at the moment. I could never do that,” I said.
    “I used to go hiking a lot. But yeah, the days of crashing on a foam mat are long gone.”
    He talked about a disastrous trip to the South of France when he was eighteen, and before I knew it, we were swapping stories like old friends. Maybe it was just the alcohol fizzing through my bloodstream, but I was enjoying myself.
    At some point, he glanced at his watch—an expensive-looking piece. “How about that dinner? We could take the champagne with us.”
    Jordan led me into the busy dining hall, with his hand resting in the small of my back. The possessive gesture sent delicious shivers down my spine. He spoke to the maître d’, who found us a secluded table at the back.
    I sank into my chair, unsteady on my feet. Probably a combination of spending my lunch break shopping instead of eating, and then breaking in the new shoes I bought. So far so good. They only pinched slightly, and they looked magnificent. Proper Fuck-Me heels.
    What was going on in my head? It was unsettling to admit, but I was more turned on, than I’d been my entire time with Tony. This unbidden thought made me smile. Jordan Merrill had no right to be so darkly attractive. Those sensuous lips were made for kissing.
    He gazed at me from across the table. “We should look at the menus. What do you like?”
    “I like most things.” Great. That made me sound simple. I bought some regrouping time, by browsing the food options. “How about the Mexican-style combo?” I glanced up and found him looking at me. The way he raked his gaze over me made my body heat. I gulped some champagne. “It’s… um, a banquet designed with two people in mind .” I carried on reading the description aloud. “ Ribs, potato skins, shrimps, onion rings, Mexican spiced chicken pieces, soft flour tortillas, and an assortment of dips and salsas . Sounds good.”
    “Uh huh. Could be messy.”
    “Much more interesting, though. Eating with your fingers, I mean.”
    “Definitely.” He beckoned a passing waiter, placed our order, and then turned his attention back to me. He grinned, his teeth white and even. “You’d probably like the food in Houston. We have some excellent Mexican restaurants there. I’m not sure how