by Alice Ward
“Oh, I know he’s cute. No, it’s because he’s a… I can’t really think of a nice word for it.”
“Spit it out,” I said. “I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
“Dick?” London offered.
“Ass?” Heather questioned.
“And like I care?” I put in. “Rory, have you met me? Since when am I looking for a boyfriend?”
Rory sighed. “All right. Have it your way.”
“Okay, so you do know him. Can you introduce us?”
“No, I don’t really know him. I’ve only… heard about him. He’s Justin Pruitt’s friend.”
“What have you heard?” Heather asked.
“Apparently he gets around.”
“Again,” I pointed out. “Do I care? That just means he won’t be lounging around in the morning waiting for me to cook him breakfast. Good. Go. Grab something at the drive through on your way home.”
“You’re so bad,” Heather laughed, her eyes sparkling in a way that said she actually loved it.
I winked at her again. I wasn’t actually mean to men. Though I didn’t have a regular boyfriend, I liked to think I treated my lovers with a fair amount of decency.
“It looks like he’s gone,” London said. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
I sighed. “Damn. Looks like it’s sexist, poor man’s Thor after all.”
London giggled. “Maybe his skills in bed will make him a little easier on the eyes.”
Rory stared. “Huh?”
“Never mind.” I squeezed her hand. “You go schmooze. Do your thing. We’ll see you at the bar.”
Twenty minutes later, London, Heather and I walked arm in arm down the sidewalk. I skirted a large heap of trash, barely avoiding getting my stilettos stuck on a plastic bag. “I can’t believe that Seth guy left,” I mumbled.
London laughed. “What did you expect? For him to rush across the room and just dive into your vagina?”
“No,” I pouted. “But I gave him the look.”
“The come-hither look?”
“Yes.”
She laughed again. “Poor Quinn Laurent. Her first time ever being turned down. Don’t worry, you’ll get over it. The rest of us have to deal with it on a regular basis, by the way.”
“Oh, whatever. Don’t act the victim. Men are falling all over you.”
From the other side of London, Heather spoke up. “Maybe he heard you chew men up and spit them out.”
“Hey,” I snapped, seriously annoyed. “I don’t do that! Guys know what they’re in for, okay? It’s not like I make them any promises. Besides, most of them aren’t looking for anything long-term anyway.”
Heather opened her mouth to argue, but London interrupted. “Everyone does their own thing. Quinn doesn’t have time for a serious boyfriend.”
“Thank you,” I pointedly told her, still annoyed at Heather. “Now let’s go get some drinks.”
The pub was narrow and long, as well as packed. We pushed our way through, angling our bodies toward the counter in hopes of snagging a bartender. Halfway down the bar Rory sat engaged in a conversation with a gray haired man. No doubt she would be occupied most of the night. If so, I would just have to send her a text tomorrow to tell her once more how great the opening was.
“You guys go find a spot,” I told Heather and London. “I’ll get drinks.”
I turned sideways and pushed myself up against the bar. The nearest of the two bartenders mixed a drink two patrons down. I kept my eyes on him, ready to grab his attention the second he turned my way.
“What are you drinking?” a male voice only inches away asked.
I cocked my hip and glanced to my side, ready to accept the invitation to flirt… then froze.
Deep blue eyes. Rich brown hair. That strong jaw.
“Well, hello Seth,” I replied, letting his name smoothly roll off of my tongue.
If he was surprised to find I knew his name he didn’t show it. Instead, he gave me a half smirk. Up close the stubble on his jaw was visible, as well as a thin scar cutting through his right eyebrow. I hadn’t noticed the scar before. It made him even more attractive, gave him character and the mystery of a dangerous past. Had he gotten it in a fight? A daring attempt to rescue someone from the wreckage of a car accident?
“So what are you drinking?” he asked again, at the same time the bartender came up and pointed at me like I was already wasting his time.
“Three vodka cranberries,” I told the bartender.
Seth quickly spoke up. “And a pale ale.”
The bartender nodded and hurried off.
I turned back to Seth. “Thanks, but I’m getting my friends’ drinks.”
And I won’t make you pay for all of us.
His lips perked up, showing off a lopsided smile. “What brought you to the gallery tonight?”
I leaned my back against the bar and looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling, pretending to take my time with my answer. Really, I was just giving him a good view of my figure. Though not as tall as I’d like to be, I was pretty darn proud of my curves. Having Seth approach me after thinking he’d bailed at the opening gave me a big boost of confidence. It felt good to know that the brief and silent exchange in the gallery had left an impression on him. It’d been a while since I lost hold of a guy I wanted, and I wasn’t quite ready to experience the bitter taste of defeat again.
“I know one of the artists,” I told him, lowering my gaze back down onto his eyes. “Rory Marsden. Do you know her?”
“Not really,” Seth said, placing an elbow against the bar and leaning into it. “My friend knows her. He told me he was going to this tonight and so I tagged along.”
“And what did you think of the art?”
“It wasn’t really my thing.”
“Oh… None of it?”
“Yeah, not really.”
My expectations plummeted. He’d quickly dismissed the art while, presumably, trying to pick me up. He could have at least pretended to like my friend’s show. “I’m sorry to hear that. What kind of art do you like?”
He shrugged. I remembered Heather’s snide jab about wearing a t-shirt and jeans to an art opening. I didn’t think it was such a big deal… until Seth basically admitted he didn’t like art.
So he didn’t have any pride when it came to personal style or interest in art. Okay. I could overlook one of those things.
But together they were a little difficult.
Just a minute into the conversation and I was already losing interest in this guy.
Where had the hipsters from earlier gone to? Maybe they’d splintered off from their group and were now in approachable singles or pairs.
Then again…
I eyed the muscles of Seth’s arms. I wasn’t looking for much from a guy. With my crazy work schedule, which often occupied evenings and weekends, all I really had time for was fun. Maybe Seth and I could have a few nice days together. Guys without class still got boners.
“What about you?” he asked. “Did you like the show?”
“I thought it was great,” I quickly said, eager to change the topic. His apathy over my friend’s work annoyed me, and I didn’t want to think about that if I was going to bang him. “So what do you do, Seth?”
“I’m in the Army Reserve.”
“Oh…wow,” I added, my interest gaining with the nearly sure knowledge that the muscles trapped beneath his clothes were as ripped as his arms.
He sidled a little closer, stopping just a few inches away. I let him make the move, keeping my gaze on his face.
“And what about you?” he asked.
“I’m a business consultant.” I eyed him, waiting to see if he would question my expertise. The exchange with the blond doofus at the gallery hadn’t been a rare one. People often questioned my experience, both due to my being twenty-five and a woman. Snidely letting them know I graduated high school a year early and then left NYU in the top five percent of my class often shut them up. I liked to give people a chance befor
e I dropped that part, though, just to see if they really were as sexist and ageist as they seemed.
Sometimes, just to really screw with them, I hinted at how much money I made. But only by casually mentioning my next trip to Europe or the upcoming remodeling of my pool. There were some things a lady never revealed, after all.
“What field do you specialize in?”
“Science and engineering.”
“In-house or externally?”
I suppressed a smile. So Seth could keep up in a conversation. Perhaps art wasn’t his thing, but he had some stats down when it came to other areas of interest.
“Externally. I work with many of the same businesses over and over, but also accept new clients. I have an office downtown with a few other consultants working under me.”
The bartender arrived and set the four drinks down. “Thirty-eight,” he simply said, addressing a spot in the air above my head.
Seth went to pull out his wallet but I quickly slipped a fifty from my clutch and set it on the pock-marked wood. “Keep the change.”
The bartender scooped the bill up and left. Our time was up. Now I needed to make the next move, in the form of inviting Seth over to sit with me and my friends.
“I hear the tech industry around here is headed for tough times,” Seth suddenly said.
I froze and eyed him. “And why do you say that?”
“Because of the numbers coming out of San Francisco.”
I barely managed to swallow my scoff. “Trust me, the industry here is doing better than it ever has. I’m busier than I need to be, and so are all my clients.”
Seth shrugged in a whatever way, then tacked a smile on the end, like that last bit made it all better.
Irritation pricked me. What was this guy’s deal? And did he even know what he was doing, coming over to hit on me and insulting me instead? Was it possible he was really that clueless?
Forget inviting him over to my table. That plan was out the window and never coming back.
I tucked my clutch under my arm, pushed my three drinks together and picked them up. “It was nice talking to you, Seth, but I should get back to my friends.”
“That soon?” he asked, rolling the two simple words seductively over his tongue.
I looked pointedly at him. His tone worked on me, sending delicious shivers down my back, and I hated that. “Yes, that soon,” I nearly snapped, no longer caring about being polite. The guy got under my skin, in both a bad way and a good way, and I didn’t care whether he knew how displeased I’d become or not.
“I didn’t get your name.”
“It’s Mahogany,” I lied, spouting out the first stripper-esque name I could think of. “And my friends Cherry and Baby are really thirsty, so I’ll see you around.”
Seth smirked again, making me want to throw the drinks in his face then drag him into the bathroom and fuck him senseless. How could it be that, sometimes, even when I found a man despicable, I still got hot for him? Usually a sour personality lowered a guy’s appeal, like with the blond from earlier, but sometimes that wasn’t the case. It only happened when the man in question was really sexy. Unfortunately, Seth was exactly that.
I didn’t like his cocky attitude… but I liked his face… and his body… and something about the way his eyes settled on my own, like he was working on figuring me out, bit by bit… Because of that I hated him even more.
I expected a jab about the stripper joke, like an inquiry into where the three of us were working that night and whether or not we accepted tips in change.
But he just rested his hand on my wrist. I froze and sucked in a breath through my teeth. The tumblers in my hands shook slightly, the glass clinking together.
If I drop these drinks right now I will never forgive myself. Not… Ever.
Shifting his body ever so slightly toward mine, Seth lowered his voice. “I can’t let you get away just like that… And if you want me to call you Mahogany… That’s just fine with me.”
Holy… Shit.
I gulped, not able to move or speak.
I could tell him to meet me outside in fifteen minutes. I could take him home and screw him and then let him go. Hell, we could even go to a hotel. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about him knowing where I lived and finding me again. I’d done that a couple times before and not felt bad about either occasion.
But I didn’t want to give Seth the satisfaction of having me for even an hour.
I made sure I had full control of my voice before I spoke so that it wouldn’t shake. “Letting me get away is something you’ll just have to live with.”
I stared him down. His eyes didn’t waver from my own. My knees shook a little bit and heat filled me.
Damn him.
It didn’t matter how sexy he was. At this point, he’d offended me beyond reparation. No way could I screw this guy and still hang onto my self-respect. Even if I took him to a hotel and then snuck out while he was taking a post-coital shower.
I pulled my arm from his touch and shimmied through the crowd, doing my best to hold my head high.
TO BE CONTINUED…
I hope you enjoyed your sneak peek of Burned (Lords of the City).
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MORE BY ALICE WARD
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Blitzed by the Billionaire
Recipe for Lust
Unbridled Love
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Love All Out The Complete Series
Reckless The Complete Series
Sexy Bastards: A Collection of Hot Alpha, Stepbrother & Billionaire Romance Stories
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The Billionaire Prisoner The Complete Series
The Bluegrass Billionaire Trilogy
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Beasts of Baseball Series
Rookie Mistake (The Beasts of Baseball - Book One)
Lords of the City Series
Torn (Lords of the City)
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alice Ward is the bestselling author of dozens of hot and steamy contemporary romances. She’s an amazingly prolific writer, releasing a new book almost every single month. Her books are widely read, especially by women and any other lovers of the romance genre. My Stepbrother, My Lover, was her first smash hit.
Alice has been in love with love since she was a little girl. She had quite the collection of Barbie dolls growing up and spent much of her playtime crafting the perfect Barbie wedding day (and when she wasn’t doing that, she was working on attempting the perfect cartwheel).
When Alice outgrew Barbie dolls, she began to write her thoughts down in her diary. This was how she discovered that she had a knack for telling romantic stories. Her first fans were her close girlfriends, and her stories were a hit among them. They, along with her family, enthusiastically encouraged her love for writing.
Alice now lives in Miami with her wonderful, hunky husband. The beach is her all-time favorite place to relax with her laptop and write. When she needs a break from writing (and when no one's looking) she loves thumbing through celebrity gossip magazines. It’s her guilty pleasure. She also might or might not have a thing for Gerard Butler (it’s the accent).
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COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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016 Alice Ward
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