by D. K. Combs
“What brought you out tonight?” she asked. Anything to keep the conversation going, away from their night of passion. Not ever, in her five years of doing this, had she been approached by the same man twice. Normally, it was a silent agreement that once was enough.
But this guy...he obviously wanted to go again.
And honestly? She might actually start considering. Just to spite herself and Noah. Probably not the best decision of the night, but who cared at this point? She sure didn’t! Why? Because she could feel Noah staring at her still, his eyes burning into her back.
So, yeah, there was no way she was going home alone tonight, if not just to spite her absurd thoughts about Noah.
“Coming in from New York for some business meetings tomorrow. How about you?”
“Just wanted to get out,” she said demurely. The look he gave her said he was catching on—and that was good. Very good. She could be out of here on another man’s arm in the next twenty minutes, leaving Noah with his ditzy blonde.
Then that would be the last she saw of him, and she would have the satisfaction of knowing that whatever thoughts he had about her would end with one—she had walked away from him. Proudly. Out from under his judgment.
Yeah, tonight would be the last she saw of him. For good. Even if that meant finding another bar.
“Want to come back to my hotel?” His hand came up, touching the hollow of her neck. That one small touch had her shivering, reacting.
“Yes,” she said softly as his hand trailed up her neck to her jaw. This was just like any other night, she said as her stomach started to turn. Just like any other night she went home with a man, except, this time, she had an audience that she wanted to spite specifically. So even though her gut told her no, don’t go with this one, she was going to do it anyway.
She didn’t notice Jerry coming up in front of them, talking. No, she was too focused on making a point, on liberating herself from not only her thoughts, but Noah’s. That judgmental prick could suck it as far as she was concerned.
He started to pull her in, closer and closer until their lips—
“Guinness, please. I’ll just take a Guinness...”
That voice. She yanked away from the kiss, a knee-jerk reaction, and looked in the direction the voice had come from.
The abyss. Staring right at her. Pulling her in. Taking her away from the man who was still touching her jaw.
She swallowed thickly, feeling like a deer caught in a headlight.
“Oh, hey,” he said, that deep voice sounding just a tad too innocent as he stared her down. He was close enough that she could feel his heat, so that she felt almost sandwiched between the two men. It wasn’t the no-name that had her bothered—no, not at all.
It was Noah.
Once again.
Shit.
Chapter Nine
She looked a thousand times better than last night, Noah thought, staring at her with a clenched jaw. She had this look of determination, this sort of...spiteful drive in her bright green eyes. Why it turned him on, he didn’t know—but it did. From the moment he had walked into the bar, he’d sensed her.
That aura of control, of confidence. That aura of just...her.
It was indescribable. All he knew was that in the last two times he’d seen her, he’d felt the same exact thing. He hadn’t been surprised to see her sitting at the bar—but he had been surprised to see her almost trying to melt into it, like she hadn’t wanted to be seen by him.
Which didn’t make sense. She was a strong woman—the way she had stood tall in front of him in the parking lot, the gaze in her eye when she’d looked him over like he was some sort of scum… She had balls. She had strength. So why had she tried to hide at the bar?
He had debated going over to her—and had decided not to. She could choose when she was ready to come over, if she was. Surely, she would have thought about it, at least for his sake. How could she not be curious about him at all? How could she not have questions, or want to finish what they started at the theater?
He had questions. A lot of them. How could he not? This woman was obviously powerful, and for some reason, she had let him do that to her. And then the way she’d looked at him in the parking lot, like he was beneath her…
He was still trying to figure out why.
Why him?
Why did she have so much spite toward him? So much anger?
Even now, with the surprise lighting her eyes, there was that spark of anger—and it wasn’t just because he’d interrupted her talk with this prick in the suit. No, it had been present even in the parking lot, when he’d been too confused, too stunned, to say anything to her.
He hadn’t believed his eyes. Seeing her there, the chill making her cheeks pink, her perfect brows drawn over her perfect face, that wild hair pulled into a perfect bun… It had been too much for him.
And, apparently, her feelings toward him were too much for her.
Because it seemed to him, the only reason she was even talking to the guy in front of her was to get back at him.
For what, he didn’t know—but he wanted to find out. If that meant ruining her little chat, then so be it. He really didn’t give a shit.
Green eyes blinked up at him, and then she was removing herself from the hands of the guy sitting next to her, clearing her throat.
“How have you been?” he asked, raising a brow—and then looked purposefully at the other guy. The man sat there, a pensive look on his face, one hand tapping on the counter impatiently. Awe, poor him—he probably thought he was about to hit a home run.
Yeah, no.
“Did you feel good after last night?” It was just the right question, because the guy’s face went from pensive to pissed.
“Wait, what?”
Noah leaned against the counter, giving her a little grin. Almost instantly, her face turned red with fury.
“What the hell do you think you’re—”
“You slept with him?” the guy asked, looking a little too angry for someone who was obviously going to be a one-night stand.
“No,” she said instantly, turning to the guy with her hands up, preparing to do some appeasement. “No, not at all—I would never—”
“Oh, right,” Noah said, rolling his eyes. “No, you won’t sleep with me, but you sure as hell let me finger you at the—”
She whirled around, stabbing a finger at his face. “You need to shut up. That is not appropriate for—”
“Oh, calm down, I’m sure you can still get that guy home tonight, right?” He gestured behind her, and when she turned, the guy was picking up his drink and walking away. The look on her face when she turned back to him was priceless.
“What the hell was that for?” she hissed.
He shrugged. “Don’t you think it’s a little impulsive to go from one guy to the next?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little rude to get into someone else’s business?” she retorted. Her neck was red, the furious flush spreading up to her cheeks only got worse as the disbelief and anger grew in her eyes.
“Not really. I mean, I did finger you—”
“Would you stop saying that?” she asked, her tone hushed. Her cheeks were pretty, pink, and filled with mortification.
“Why? It’s true. I did. And then earlier today, you looked at me like I was beneath you or something,” he said, hiding his grin when her left eye started to twitch. While he was composed, she was the exact opposite—and he loved it.
“I did? Excuse me? You were the one who couldn’t even be bothered to introduce yourself—You just stared at me.”
“From what I remember, you were the one that denied knowing me. Would you have really said anything back if I had said something?”
Going by that frown, he knew the answer. She wouldn’t have. Because she did think she was above everyone else. It was in her eyes, the way, even now, with all of her anger, she looked down at him.
He could only laugh.
“Yeah, exa
ctly.” Before she could open that mouth, he continued with, “So, what made you come out tonight? Were you curious? Because I really didn’t expect you to come.”
“I wasn’t here for you,” she said defensively. “If you must know, I forgot about you two the second I went back inside.”
“Right.” He sat on the bar stool, taking the glass when the bartender set it down. “Really, though. What made you come out?”
She sighed. “It’s really not any of your business why I’m here. Listen, if you could just go back to your groupies or whatever those ladies are, I would really appreciate it. You’ve ruined the majority of my night, so at least let me finish my martini in peace.”
“Why, so you can try to find another man?” He normally didn’t judge people for their shit. It wasn’t his job, and he usually didn’t care what other people did. Hell, he didn’t care that she had almost left with that guy—but watching her get angry over this was pretty great.
She was pretty when she was angry. With that wild mane of hair and those flashing, bright green eyes of hers, he much preferred to see the anger to the uptight glare. There was just something about this angry redhead that made him laugh when nothing else could.
“No! This—you know, this whole conversation is a train wreck. Just let me enjoy my night, okay?” She picked up her martini and stood. Her legs were already impossibly long, but in that little black dress, they looked that much longer. And her dainty feet… He normally didn’t have a thing for feet, but in those black heels…?
He clenched his jaw. He’d come over here to figure her out, not start fantasizing about every part of her body.
Noah followed suit, walking after her until she stopped mid-step and whirled around.
“Really? If I’d known you were a stalker, I wouldn’t have let you do anything to me,” she hissed. Then she waved her hands at him. “Go! Shoo! Go back and play with your group, and leave me alone.”
“Are you sure that’s what you really want?”
“Yes! I’ve only been saying it repeatedly. Seriously, Noah, go away—”
“You know my name?” He frowned. Maybe she is a bit of a stalker? He took an uneasy step back.
She sighed. “Madeline said it. I caught on. I’m not stupid.”
“Well, it’s not really fair that you know my name, and I don’t know yours,” he pointed out, his reservations dropping. “I did make you orgas—”
“Shut up,” she snapped, walking toward him until she was close enough to put her hand over his mouth. He took hold of her wrist, taking her hand away—but not letting go, even when she tried to pull it away.
“What’s your name?” he asked. When she only glared at him, fighting against his hold, he tugged her closer. He didn’t know if she simply gave in or tripped over her foot, but one second they were standing apart, and the next her body was flush against his.
Her sharp gasp told him all he needed to know, and as their eyes met, he not only felt it against his body, but saw it inside of her.
Through all of her anger, through all of her spitefulness, one thing was apparent.
She wanted him.
His hand moved from her wrist to her shoulder, then to her neck. He wanted to replace that man’s touch, to get rid of his memory on her skin. When he’d seen the way her eyes had shuttered at his touch, something inside of Noah had snapped.
Not even twenty-four hours ago, he had brought the uptight woman to a shuddering, hot mess. Before he’d had time to think about what he was doing, he’d extracted himself from the clingy blonde and made his way over to her without any real plan of action except to get the guy in the tie gone and to figure out who the hell this woman was.
Now that the guy was gone, he should be going back to his seat. But instead, he found himself wanting to make her forget about him completely. Shit, if it hadn’t been for Noah, she probably wouldn’t have talked to that guy in the first place—he had seen that look on her face, like she was trying to get back at him for something.
He didn’t know what that something was, and now he didn’t care.
He touched her jaw, lifting her face to his.
“Name,” he demanded, leaning his head down until their lips were but a breath away. He could taste the martini on her breath, and knew that if he really did kiss her, he’d taste it there as well. Mixed in with the scent of the martini was roses—and it wasn’t a cheap perfume, either.
She resisted him. She kept her back straight, stiff even though the front of their bodies were pressed. The closer he leaned, however, the more her body began to relax, until her eyes were closing, head tilting back on its own accord, and her lips… Her lips were just ready for him to taste.
But he wouldn’t give in. Not until he had a name.
“Give me a name,” he murmured. Around them, the bar seemed to fade away. The music, the people. Everything but the two of them became nonexistent, and he knew she felt the same, knew she was getting lost in whatever was happening between them.
The name came from her lips on a sigh of defeat.
“Bristol,” she whispered. Her back relaxed, and in that moment, she was fully relying on him to stand. Pride coursed through him. He’d managed to get this uptight, pretentious woman weak in the knees. As a reward for the two of them, he leaned down, tilting her head at an angle—and then their lips were together—
“Noah! Hey, what the hell. Come back to the table.”
A small hand landed on his shoulder, and he jerked away from her, holding in the panted breaths. The blonde he was with tugged on his arm, bringing him back to reality.
That feeling he’d felt at the theater, the heat, the connection—it was there, with her, when he’d never felt it within another person. Not any of his exes, not even Alex. He had never wanted to dissect them, never wanted to learn why they were the way they were.
With Bristol, though… There was so much hiding behind that snobby exterior, and he was only breaching the tip of it. She might not be his type of woman, but something about her definitely drew him in.
And apparently, his date didn’t like that, because once he was detached from the dazed redhead, he was being pulled farther and farther away—and he let it happen.
He needed time to digest what had happened, what he felt. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t like him.
Noah didn’t say anything, only gave her one last look before turning around and walking to the table. It was probably for the best. The sooner he hid the hard-on, the better.
Chase greeted him with a wide grin.
“Remember that other half of the bet? The fifty-K? I know what I want to bet you on.”
He knew without asking that he wasn’t going to like it. Nothing was ever easy with Chase, never pleasant. His friend was an ass and proud of it, so when he looked over Noah’s shoulder with a smirk, he knew it wasn’t going to be good.
The blonde, Danni, slid in beside him and cast him a bitter glare.
He ignored it. Noah was more interested in what Chase had to say.
“The assistant. Remember her?” Chase asked, a dirty look in his eye. A dirty, sleazy look that definitely didn’t sit well with him.
Noah sighed but nodded. It took all of his strength not to turn around and look back at Bristol to see what she was doing, to see if she’d left or gone back to the bar, to see if she was still dazed.
“Get the assistant to go out with you—get her in bed.”
Noah scoffed. “Why the hell would I do that? What would that accomplish? Do you have to be so sick and disturbing?” Bristol might not be his type, but Madeline was off the charts. She was too sweet, too quiet. She wouldn’t be able to cope with being used like that.
“You do the assistant in the next two weeks, and the rest is yours.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because it will be awesome!”
“No, it’ll suck. Chase, you’re asking me to have sex with an innocent girl, a girl who happens to be the employee of a lady that I kind of want to
bone right now—something you are well aware of. So what gives? Why are you doing this?”
Chase shrugged. “Because I can. Because money speaks—and because you have the option of saying no. High-stake bets are high-stake for a reason, my friend—they aren’t supposed to be easy.”
Noah rubbed his face, shaking his head.
“I can’t. Something about screwing with Madeline’s emotions just doesn’t sit well with me,” he said. He wanted the Superleggera so bad, but if it meant screwing with Madeline, his friend’s little sister, as well as Bristol… He might be an ass, but he wasn’t cruel. And that’s what he would be if he took up the bet.
“I’ll give you my bonus,” Chase said, determined.
“I don’t think that—”
“It would be enough for the Superleggera, Noah. C’mon—you have two weeks.”
He paused in the middle of lifting the Guinness to his lips, then slowly set it down. That was a huge amount of money that Chase was offering—and god dammit, it was tempting.
No, he thought, shaking his head. He wasn’t going to do that. He might have the balls to touch a woman in public, but to mess with emotions?
“Since when have you cared about other people’s emotions?” Chase laughed. “Fine—don’t sleep with her, then. Kiss her. In front of Bristol.”
“Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
Still, he started to consider it. Kissing was a lot less damaging than sex, and Bristol was a stranger. An uptight, unpleasant stranger who probably wouldn’t give two shits if she saw him kiss another person.
“How long would I have?”
“One week.” Chase gently pushed his gossiping date off of him and leaned forward, obviously not done with his conditions. Noah took a gulp of the Guinness, knowing that whatever Chase said next would go down better with the beer.
“Feel free to do whatever with her, but it would be great to see you make her jealous, maybe jimmy the stick up her ass a little.”
“I swear, there is something wrong with you. You enjoy people’s pain way too much.”
“Being jealous isn’t a pain,” Chase said, waving his hand. “It’ll be good for her to experience something other than disdain for everything around her.”
