From the glee in her eyes, he knew she hadn’t heard a word he said as she asked instead, “How do I look?”
“Fine.”
“That’s it? Fine?”
She was giving him one of her famous heart-stopping glances from beneath unnaturally long lashes, and by doing so, caught Daniel’s breath. But for Sonya, he knew, it was simply a game. He held her gaze without smiling. Then at last he blinked and offered her his best attempt at a friendly grin, hating himself for not being able to be annoyed for long.
“You look good.”
She grinned in response. “Wish me luck?”
He paused, staring down at her face. She looked so eager, so hopeful. He felt a pull in his chest and knew he didn’t have the heart to tell her he thought she could do better. Deserved better. Both in career choices and in men.
Instead, “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She beamed, then scurried down the corridor. “I’ll stop in after the interview.”
“Fine.”
“If it’s not too late, that is.” She accompanied this seductive implication with a giggle, which trailed behind her echoing down the hallway.
Daniel’s smile made a disappearing act right before he did. The slamming of his apartment door followed the echo of her giggle along the apartment corridor. This was what he deserved for falling for a woman who thought his worth lay only in his ability to choose what color of dress to wear. Why couldn’t he meet someone sweet and passionate and totally devoted to him? Why the hell had fate placed Sonya Elliott across the hall from him?
Chapter 2
Twenty minutes later Sonya entered the banquet room in Tristan Manning’s bar. It was unusually quiet from music and patrons. The only occupant was someone sweeping the polished floors. It was a fair size lounge with fifty or more tables and chairs, with a huge bar that ran the length of the side wall. Flanking the rear of the tavern was a half-moon stage overlooking the seats.
For a moment, she allowed her mind to drift, seeing herself center stage and belting out the lyrics to a song. The band would play in superb harmony, her vocals electrifying the audience. She could feel their love. She was alive and on fire and there was nothing in the world more fulfilling.
A door behind the bar opened and Tristan Manning exited. As if in slow motion, he approached her with the most alluring stride and the sexiest smile for a greeting. Her toes curled in reflex as she watched him come closer. He was so damn good-looking. With eyes as deep blue as the ocean, and hair the color of spun gold. And a build so perfectly sculptured at a little over six feet tall. Sonya moaned inwardly and thought creation spared no expense on this man.
As he drew near, his eyes leisurely dropped from her face to drift down the length of her body. A rush of heat followed as his baby-blues returned ever so slowly upward, past her scantily covered breasts pressing hard against the thin material covering them in her obvious aroused state.
His sensual smile remained transfixed on her lips, while his eyes at last lifted to hers. Holding out his hand, he said in a low and husky voice, “Thank you for coming, Sondra.”
Her own smile wavered but she slid her hand into his. “Sonya.”
“Hmm?”
“My name. It’s Sonya, not Sondra.”
He gave her a rueful grin. “My apologies. Never been any good with names.”
Her smile returned fully. “I understand completely. What with your kind of business—”
“Please have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the tables.
Nonplused, she sashayed to the nearest table and took her time sliding into one of the chairs, making certain her short skirt hitched up high along her thighs exposing plenty of bare skin.
“I appreciate your coming.” His eyes had a drowsy look to them as if he just finished a long night of lovemaking. “As I explained before, this position should be able to double your income without any problem. I also mentioned tips are a common occurrence in this establishment as well. My clientele are a very generous group. When they come to my bar they are expecting to have a good time and enjoy the view.”
He openly surveyed her appearance. “I pride myself on the looks of my staff. That is an important element to my success. The customers like it. You have the look I aim to achieve.”
She fluttered her lashes and leaned ever so noticeably toward him, hoping her cleavage was evident as she spread a warm and seductive smile across her lips. “Thank you Tristan. That is terribly sweet—”
“Since we are a bar, however, some of the clientele can get out of hand,” he said, not appearing to notice his bad habit of interrupting her. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Uh.” She blinked and sat up straight, feeling a bit thrown off balance. “No, of course not.”
“Good. Now, do you have any questions?”
She hesitated for only a mere second. “About your live performances—?”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Glad you brought that up. The stage is strictly prohibited from anyone other than the house band. The number of requests we receive to perform is astronomical. You wouldn’t believe how many wannabes are out there. Christ, they must think I’m some sort of amateur karaoke bar.”
“Right.” Discouraged, she nodded and forced a smile. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“So, if you want the job it’s yours.” He surprised her by saying. “When can you start?”
“Umm.” Sweeping the bleak cobwebs from her head, she responded, “I’ll have to give my present employer two weeks—”
He quickly shook his head. “That won’t do. I need a new girl a-s-a-p. Business is booming and we’re already short staffed.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll give my notice and finish out tomorrow’s shift.” Biting her lip, she thought out loud, “I’ll have to find someone to cover my hours for the next few days—”
“Great. Whatever it takes.” He stood up and waited for her to follow. “Come around on Thursday at three o’clock. I’ll have Audrey show you the ropes. That should give you plenty of time before the Friday night rush.”
“Audrey?”
“My number one barmaid.”
“Right.”
“Oh, one more thing.” He began to walk away, but paused in mid-step. “Dress code. Your attire factors greatly along with your personal good looks. Skirts above the knees only. Tight shirts with a bit of cleavage or something similar to what you’re wearing are also acceptable.”
She automatically glanced down, pleased he approved of her clothes. However, before she could respond he gave her a departing wink and disappeared behind the door he had earlier exited.
Sonya inhaled a deep sigh of delight and smiled happily to herself. That wasn’t so difficult. She had snared the job. Getting the actual man was next. With a little bit of provocative insinuation, she was certain he wouldn’t be too far behind.
Glancing at the empty stage, her spirits sagged slightly. It was her dream, her aspirations; there had never been anything she wanted more in life. If it took all she had, she would achieve it. Even if it meant sleeping with the boss.
A giggle escaped her lips and caught the attention of the man sweeping the floor. She gave him a quick smile then slipped out of the bar. The thought wasn’t so ridiculous or shallow as it sounded. As a matter-of-fact, it sounded kind of fun.
* * *
A swift melodic tapping on his door later that night had Daniel pause his program to get up and answer it. He didn’t appreciate the interruption but did so anyway knowing Sonya was the owner of the musical rap. Though it was after supper, it was earlier then she warned.
He peered through the peephole and saw her carrying a bottle of wine and rocking merrily on her heels. He sighed and thought he really ought to consider moving. She was more torture than she was peace. Pressing his forehead against the closed door, he willed his equilibrium into place.
“Dan-iel?” Her gay voice danced through from the opposite side. “Are you in there?”
He opene
d his eyes. Then taking a deep breath, pushed himself away from the door and opened it. She grinned from the other side of the threshold and his gut did an adolescent flip.
“I got the job.”
“I figured as much.” He eyed the bottle of wine she was clutching.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Her smile spread from ear to ear and there was no disguising her happiness. “Or invite me in?”
He hesitated, nudging his glasses over the bridge of his nose, then finally gave a short nod and pushed the door wider. She was oblivious to any indifference he may have had as she flounced into his apartment. With a little skip to her walk, she headed directly for the living room and dropped blissfully onto his leather couch.
Sonya ran a hand over the rich material of the sofa, having always admired it, and promised someday when she had the money, she would buy one similar.
She looked up at Daniel standing near the room’s entrance, his arms crossed over his chest, his face unsmiling. Somebody was a sourpuss. Well it wasn’t her and she wouldn’t let him bring her down.
“Are we going to drink from glasses or swig it right out of the bottle?”
Without replying he simply gave her a look from under his brow then sauntered into the kitchen. Feeling too delirious to sit for long, she jumped to her feet and followed him. As he began opening cupboard doors, she pulled out his utility drawer and searched out a bottle opener.
“He thinks I’m perfect for the job.”
Without so much as a comment or glance, he removed a tumbler from a cupboard and handed it to her.
Glancing down at the lone glass, she sighed and pouted her bottom lip. “You’re not going to be a killjoy, are you? Come on, Daniel. Loosen up.”
“I’ve got to work in the morning and so do you.” His tone of voice was bland and matter-of-fact.
Lord, she hated when he sounded so authoritative. “I bet you’re a real swinging guy when you’re out with your friends.”
He looked slightly peeved. “I wouldn’t really know. I don’t associate with the swinging type.”
“Except for me.”
He glanced down at the unopened bottle in her hand. “Did you want me to open that?”
An unexpected feeling hit her square in the gut. “You do like me, don’t you, Daniel?”
He closed his eyes for a split second in exasperation, but it was enough to generate a surge of doubt and anger within Sonya. Clutching her bottle, she bolted for the exit. “That’s fine. I understand. Why didn’t you just say so?”
She heard him mutter something before coming after her. “For pity’s sake, Sonya. Of course I like you.”
“You don’t have to try and be nice to me, Daniel. There are plenty of other people who enjoy my company. Like, well, like Tristan Manning.”
“Did he ask you out on a date?”
“Of course.” She puffed out her chest, refusing to let the little white lie bother her. Besides, it wouldn’t be long before he eventually did ask her out.
His lips came together to form his usual grim expression. “Then why want my company? Go and celebrate with your new boyfriend.”
When he turned and started retreating back into his apartment, Sonya was right on his heel. “He is a very busy man. You do realize he owns his own business.”
“A pick-up bar?” He threw over his shoulder, sounding incredulous. “That’s something to be proud of?”
“Well it’s better than having your nose cemented to the inside of a computer twenty-four hours a day.”
Even from her angle she could see his teeth clench as he headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms. She went right after him.
“He’s going to give me the chance I need to get my career started.”
“Yeah, from the bedroom rather than the boardroom.”
“If need be.”
He stopped so suddenly, she literally ran right into his backside. Muffling a grunt, she rubbed her nose as he slowly turned around and looked down at her. The look of anger, disgust, but above all disappointment startled her. Daniel had known her now for nearly a year. Her carefree attitude and promiscuous lifestyle had never been a secret.
She watched as a nerve along his jaw flexed and the furrow between his brows deepened. His anger was surprising. It occurred to her then that perhaps Daniel’s day hadn’t been as good as her own. Reaching out, she petted his arm.
“Oh, come on Daniel. You know I’m only kidding. I would never stoop to that level.” If I didn’t want to.
He continued to stare at her until finally the crease in his forehead began to slowly ease. “You weren’t planning on following me in there, were you?”
“Huh?” She looked past him and was startled to discover they were standing in the entrance of the bathroom. Grinning, she took a quick step backwards. “Sorry.”
Nodding, he began to shut the door, but she reached out all at once and stopped it from closing. “If you want me gone by the time you come out, just say the word. But don’t stay mad for long. I hate it when you’re mad at me.”
Their eyes met and locked and Sonya felt a queer little jolt in the area of her chest. She quickly dropped her hand and put some distance between them.
“I’m not mad at you,” he eventually said with a sigh, then added, “Stick around and drink your wine.”
After he locked himself in the bathroom, Sonya asked the closed door, “Will you have a glass with me?”
“No.”
Shrugging, she headed toward the kitchen and picked up the bottle opener from where she left it lying on the counter. It was true. She really did hate it when she and Daniel fought. Probably even more than when she and her closest friend, Maura, argued. And those lasted for days. The wonderful thing about Daniel was he always forgave quickly.
She returned to the living room with a glass full of wine and stretched out on the luxurious sofa, moaning softly at the relaxing touch it evoked along her tired muscles and sensitive skin. The day must have been more exhausting than she thought. Her entire body tingled and yearned to be touched. Sighing softly, she slithered in the fine material of her dress and attempted to relieve the aching in her body.
“Would you like to be left alone?”
Daniel’s voice startled her, but not by much. Without even bothering to open her eyes, she offered a flirtation grin. The image behind her closed lids consisted of a very sexy Tristan Manning lying stretched out next to her on the leather sofa.
“Seriously. Don’t you have your own couch to do this on?”
“Shut up.” Keeping her eyes closed, she played with the image some more and couldn’t resist moving her pelvis wantonly.
Daniel felt his insides clench with irritation, and perhaps a bit too theatrical, reached out and knocked her legs off the sofa, snapping her out of her reverie. Her eyes jerked open. They were hazy and had an unmistakable fiery glaze to them. Maybe he would have that glass of wine after all.
“You really are a spoilsport tonight.” He felt her eyes watching him as he took a long gulp from her glass. “I thought you had to work in the morning.”
He finished the last drop and placed the glass on the coffee table then picked up the bottle for a refill. “And I thought so did you.”
“Not until three. It’s my last shift.”
He frowned then dropped down beside her on the sofa. “Aren’t you scheduled for the rest of the week? You are planning on giving them proper notice?”
She bit her lip in a suggestive manner, leaned forward, and said in a husky voice, “Tristan wants me now.”
Daniel repressed the urge to curse and tell her where this Tristan fellow could go. Instead, he said, “That’s not very considerate.”
She gave a careless shrug. “I have only to worry about myself.”
“And Tristan Manning.”
Blasted, he didn’t want to get into yet another argument with her, but their topics always seemed to come back to the same thing or person. He never met Tristan Manning, but he
could sincerely state he had a deep aversion to the guy.
“You know Daniel, if you spent less time worrying about me and my proper behavior, you might actually escape having an ulcer and live to be a right jolly old man.”
He stared at her as she concentrated on drinking her wine. “I suppose I should mind my own business. But I do like you and hate to see you hurt.”
A smile sprang to her face. “You are so sweet. That is exactly why I adore you.” Lying back down on the plush cushions, she stretched out her bare legs and dropped them over his lap. “But if you really don’t want to see me hurt, be a sweetheart and rub the pain out of my feet. Those sandals are torture.”
His eyes dropped to the shapely legs stretched out across his lap. He did a deliberate scrutiny up the long smooth skin where they disappeared below the thin material of her dress, then slowly made his way down once again. The mental camera in his brain snapped away at the image. He was unable to stop the male reaction from stirring beneath his pants.
“Christ, haven’t you ever seen a pair of legs before?” Her remark woke him from his trance and squelched instantly the desire in his groins.
“Metatarsalgia.”
“Sorry?”
“An acute condition in the metatarsal region of the foot resulting from the continual wearing of high-heels—”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she groaned, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “What are you? A walking encyclopedia?”
“Popular Science subscriber,” he said. “I read a lot.”
“No kidding.” Then wiggling her toes, said, “Come on, be a sweetheart, will ya, and help me out?”
His eyes drifted to her face, but her eyes remained shut. She lay very still except for the occasional sip from her glass. She most definitely was torture to his male ego, not to mention his male libido. The desire to push her legs away and tell her to go to hell, was not nearly as great as the desire to reach out and touch her.
Lifting his hands, he cupped her tiny feet between his two large palms and began a soothing massage with the pads of his fingers and thumbs. Her skin was as soft as he imagined and the mere touch ignited a fiery warmth in the pit of his stomach.
Misunderstood: In Love with the Nerd (The Miss Series Book 2) Page 2
