Pulling myself up, I straightened up in my chair, ready to fend off some insult or unkind comment he'd more than likely make about me being in a wine bar alone.
My chest grew tighter with each step closer he came and the hollow space within my gut filled with dread at the imminent conversation ahead. I knew talking with him would most likely mean learning new things about him—about them. Logan and Poppy.
Even her name sounded ridiculously young in connection with the stuffy academic my husband used to be before he met her. Now he dressed differently and appeared a trendy forty-something with a hot girlfriend on his arm.
For the first time in months, I felt anxious about receiving any new details our discussion would unearth, and I knew whatever he said would most probably add yet another layer of hurt for me.
"Billie?" he asked, as if he couldn't believe it was me either. My heart rate spiked, each beat struggling for rhythm as sheer panic rose to my throat. He was the last person I'd wanted to talk to.
"Mm-Hmm?" I asked in return, surprised when my bored tone hadn't given away the anguish I felt inside.
"What're you doing in here on your own?" he asked, his deep blue eyes full of concern as he studied my face for answers. A reaction I hadn't fully expected. It was likely he'd thought a trendy wine bar in downtown New York was the last place he'd have expected to run into me. And then—it struck me. There was little doubt I looked bedraggled.
Before the rain came my flat-ironed, long brown hair had looked sleek, but I knew the storm would have made my mad curls recoil and my untamed mane had likely looked a mess of frizz in some places and would have been plastered flat against my head in others.
"What's it to you?" I asked, barely managing to keep the bitterness from my voice.
He sighed. "I still care, you know," he mumbled, a tad frustrated when I stared blankly into his eyes. At that moment, I wanted to maim him for life or at least punch him in the face for making me feel all of the unwanted feelings of longing that coursed through my body right then. I had missed him.
After a moment his gaze softened, his body sagging a little at the shoulders, and for a split second, I was almost taken in by his concern. Almost. Then I remembered where we were in our lives and that the only link that connected me to him was as the mother to his son, especially since I'd changed back to my maiden name of Billie Collier.
"Yeah … thanks," I replied and sniggered before I took a deep breath. I exhaled slowly so as not to lose my temper with the man. What a jerk.
"Look," he softened his voice further to match the unfamiliar compassion in his eyes. Then, as if he remembered who he was in the wine bar with, his body suddenly stiffened again.
Turning his head for a moment, he glanced over his shoulder to look for her before turning his attention back toward me. I bristled in my chair at the thought of her watching us.
"We have nothing left to say to one another. Just go," I remarked in a tired tone, as I waved him off with my hand when the waitress arrived with my wine.
She placed two large glasses of white wine in front of me. I looked up in confusion at her, wondering if she'd brought one for him as well, until she smiled her toothpaste-ad-white smile again. "It's two for one right now. It's happy hour," she clarified.
"Maybe we could talk sometime?" he asked with a hopeful note in his voice, ignoring the waitress. I smiled at her and noticed the concerned look she cast toward Logan. I wondered if she thought he was bothering me.
"Not happening." I flashed a tight smile at the waitress again. She smiled back at my answer to him, tucked her small silver tray under her arm and spun away from us on her heels. I watched her leave and reach the bar before I gave Logan my attention again and I shrugged. "There's nothing to talk about until you sign the divorce papers that were sent to you several months ago."
When Logan's eyes dulled, a hurt expression fell over his face. His reaction took me by surprise because where we were at in our lives had been his doing.
When I'd filed for divorce, I hadn't expected any resistance from him, but until then he'd ignored my lawyer's repeated requests to send the paperwork back to him.
"What's wrong, Logan? Having second thoughts? Has the novelty of your girl toy begun to wear off?" I felt annoyed at how bitter I'd sounded until I remembered he didn't deserve my consideration for how he'd treated me.
From the stunned look on his face, it was apparent he wasn't used to me asserting myself with him. I knew I should have been stronger with him in the past.
It became clear my curt reply had unnerved him when he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot before he glanced over his shoulder again. Turning his attention to me once more, his request sounded more pleading than before.
"Meet me, please? Give me an hour, Billie?"
"Why?"
"For the ten good years we had. One hour, that's all I ask," he begged in an urgent tone, as he raised an eyebrow in a hopeful gesture. "Come on, I know I fucked up. If I could take it back—"
"Take it back? Take what back, exactly?" I interrupted and attempted to shut him down. "Stop it." The glare I shot hit him hard and his shoulders sagged again.
"Forever's a long time to stay angry," he urged.
"What do you know about forever? Forever was the vow you took, so I guess you and I have very different ideas on the meaning of that word. Besides, you don't get to tell me what to feel or for how long, Logan. You're nothing to me anymore," I stated, bitterly. I couldn't help but smirk when he winced in reaction to my cutting outburst, but it didn't halt his train of thought.
"Clearly," he snapped because I had sounded hurt when I'd said it. "If you believe that to be true, then you won't have a problem giving me the hour I'm asking for," he countered. I sighed because I knew his manipulations too well. The man behaved like a dog with a bone when he wanted something badly enough.
Lifting my glass to my lips, I was stunned when I realized I'd already drained the last of the first glass of wine, and I prayed he hadn't noticed how fast I had drunk it. The last thing I needed was for him to think his tawdry behavior had made me turn to alcohol to drown my sorrows.
Staring pointedly into his dull, unsmiling eyes I could see the only way to get him to back off was to agree to his demand—even though I had no intention of making good on the promise.
For a second, it gave me a warm glow of satisfaction when I considered how disappointed he'd be when I reneged on this later.
"Call the house tomorrow," I offered, giving nothing away of my plan to ignore him. Immediately his frown disappeared, his face and eyes brightening as he flashed me his perfect, sexy smile—the one that had captured my heart. I scolded myself quickly because even after all he'd put me through, I was still moved by the way he smiled at me.
Logan had ruined my faith in him, in all men, by cheating, yet the mixed message he sent when he stared intently toward me tightened my chest and made my heartbeat race. It was the same intense stare of adoration he used to give me during our early days together. The look that had once made me feel special.
Silently I cursed God for handing me another mind game to add to the others I'd endured during this past year and sighed. Turning slowly and still holding the clean empty glass in his hand, he stepped away without saying goodbye. He weaved his way down through the seated customers in the crowded bar to his table without looking back.
I dropped my gaze to my second glass of wine before he'd reached his destination because I knew if I'd continued watching after him, I would have needed to deal with seeing Poppy in the flesh.
Focusing on the wine, I debated whether to drink it or not, knowing if I did, I'd have to call a cab to take me all the way home to New Jersey.
A new wave of grief for my situation threatened to overwhelm me. My body vibrated with anger when it dawned on me the cause of the death of our marriage was probably sitting in the very same room, smiling at the man she blatantly stole from me. An anxious feeling grew in my stomach and brought with it an almost
overwhelming urge to flee from the wine bar. Crap.
As the seconds ticked by, I remained immobile, unsure of what to do next. As much as I wanted to leave, heavy rain still hammered down outside. I looked out of the window, up at the sky and saw the rainstorm was nowhere near abating.
Feeling defeated, I knew I had no choice but to sit there and wait for the storm to pass. I prayed Logan and his girl didn't try to leave first.
Chapter Two
The bell over the door distracted me from my unhappy thoughts, and the moment my curious eyes connected with those of the man who had entered, they almost fell out of my head.
Standing soaked and dripping on the black and white welcome mat was a tall, lean, immaculately dressed guy with an anxious look in his eyes. Raindrops fell from his wet dark brown hair and cascaded down his cheeks.
Oh, Lord. He looked stunning. After spying my empty chair, his worried eyes flicked back up, connected with mine, and he immediately parked his backside on the only empty chair at my table.
"Don't panic," he urged with a tight smile. "I promise I'm not a weirdo. I'll explain, but first, may I please sit here for a few minutes?" he asked in a rushed, somewhat breathless, ragged tone. He had no sooner sat down before he rose from the seat again and peered out of the window. I sat observing his anxious behavior through narrowed eyes.
A few seconds later he turned and faced me again and his nervous gaze had me intrigued.
"There's this girl," he began. He stopped, drew in a sharp breath and sighed. It appeared to calm him down before he continued. "I swear a woman's been stalking me for the whole afternoon," he muttered. I heard anguish in his low, slightly refined accent. Tension radiated from his upper body before he rolled his shoulders back and glanced warily out the window again.
"Stalking?"
Looking back toward me, as if it had only just sunk in that I'd spoken, he shrugged. "I … dated her—once," he offered in hesitation. I almost called him out on what may have been a 'love them and leave them' situation, but I let him continue with his story, glad for the distraction from Logan and Poppy.
"She's been harder to shake than shit off a shoe," he told me, deadpan. His unexpectedly coarse comment made me chuckle. His remark sounded incongruous coming from someone so spotlessly dressed. "If she comes in, would you mind pretending to be with me?" Hell, I'd be happy to sit here all day, provided I can stare at you.
Without waiting for me to reply, he stood and shrugged himself out of his dripping wet gray suit jacket. My eyes immediately feasted upon his taut, strong frame. He was a striking young man, and I knew I was staring.
Watching him as he hung the jacket over the back of his chair, my eyes raked over his broad muscular shoulders and thick arms that strained the cotton material of his crisp white shirt.
The expensive thread of the cotton was almost sheer from the rain as it clung against perfectly toned pecs, and I quietly sighed when the faint waft of his expensive cologne filled my sense of smell.
My first thought as I took in his appearance was, What would you like me to say? I laughed out loud at the thought of me being so fascinated by a man as young as he was, and our eyes briefly connected.
A small buzz ran through my body with the connection I felt between us. I squeezed my thighs together when, despite his dilemma, I saw a hint of mischief and heat in his beautiful large hazel eyes.
While I absorbed how attractive he looked, I slid my butt further back in my chair. It felt as if his presence had drawn me toward him like some magnetic field. Grabbing my glass of wine, I felt more confident to let my hungry eyes study him with the safer distance afforded to me by having my back touching the chair.
I looked at his strong, chiseled jawline, that had maybe three days of stubble growth, and I could hardly believe how much I wanted to touch it. It was the one part of him that wasn't pristine and I liked that about his appearance.
A playful smile on his full plump soft lips revealed a glimpse of his perfectly straight white teeth, and I stopped to wonder whether or not I had ever seen a more attractive man in my whole life.
His wet hair was only a few shades lighter than mine, and was styled in a way I thought was a little too trendy for a serious businessman. Then, I figured that no matter what he wore, he was a man who'd needed no window dressing to make him stand out in a room.
Lifting my wine to my lips, he watched closely as I swallowed most of the contents of the second glass down my throat in one thirsty gulp.
"Sawyer," he informed me, turning his upper body toward the counter and waving a hand to catch the waitress's attention. I wasn't surprised when she arrived at our table in a heartbeat with a beaming friendly smile on her face. "Large whatever … Chardonnay?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in question. The waitress flashed a wider grin and nodded. "And for …" he stopped, staring at me with an outstretched hand.
"No, I'm fine." I raised my almost empty glass in my palm and swirled the dregs of my wine around inside.
"She'll have the same as before," he quipped to our server, ignoring my protest. "Go on, live a little," he said, egging me on with a cheeky wink. A wicked glint appeared in his eyes as his stare became more intent. "In case you haven't noticed, short of an ark we're not going anywhere for a while."
I glanced out at dreary wet weather and knew he was right. The rain still appeared relentless. When I sighed in defeat, he allowed himself a barely-there smile before he shot a nervous glance out of the window again.
"Ha, very funny," I replied. However, I'd felt secretly smug someone as handsome as him had rushed through the door and sat down beside me while in full view of Logan.
Replaying how it may have looked in my head, I'd hoped it had appeared as if I'd been waiting for him. It was a ridiculous thought to have had, given how incredibly drop-dead gorgeous my stranger looked.
Sawyer was most definitely a fine-looking man who I'd estimated he was in his late twenties at most. I considered the scene when he had arrived again.
To an onlooker, he must have appeared so attentive, with his apologetic approach and his "please forgive me" body language when he'd leaned closer and he'd explained his situation before ordering a fresh round of drinks for us both.
"So, pretty lady, do you have a name? If you're going to be my heroine, I'm going to need a name." Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, he stared intently. The way his bright hazel eyes locked onto mine made my thighs clench and my poor attention-starved heart stutter.
Even though I had figured our encounter meant nothing to him, my belly still flipped over as more than a slither of excitement coursed through my body. It was almost inconceivable that a situation had arisen where a young, hot gentleman such as him gave me the time of day.
Then again, I reasoned, he may have felt he'd had little choice if the circumstance he'd found himself were true.
"Billie," I offered, deciding I was safe enough around the eighty or so other patrons in the wine bar to tell him my name. I blushed a little at the way my voice dropped an octave with my one-word answer.
"Of course, it is. Looking at you, it had to be something edgy and cool. I should have guessed," he said, playfully. Leaning across the table, he placed his large strong hand over mine that I had rested on the table. He patted it gently and flashed me a winning smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Billie."
My heart instantly fluttered uncontrollably with his natural gesture of familiarity, and when I felt his skin next to mine it was electric.
"I'm Sawyer, as I said earlier. Or Sawyer Michael Wild, as my mom always calls me when she's scolding me," he drawled in his unhurried, laid-back low tone with a chuckle.
For a long minute, I silently studied him further and noted the hard lines of his body. He had a strong body, one I felt was used to working out, and I shocked myself by fantasizing about seeing him naked and wondering what it would be like to have sex with a man built like him. A warmth grew in my cheeks with my wandering mind and I was thankful for the distraction when he spoke agai
n.
"So tell me, darlin', is Mr. Billie going to storm through the door at any moment and bust my nose for hitting on his woman?"
When he called me darlin' I almost melted into a puddle on the floor, and although I kept telling myself he was a smooth operator, I couldn't help but feel flattered.
"Is that what you're doing? Hitting on me?" I blurted it out with a chuckle before my mouth had engaged with my brain.
A slow, sensual smile spread on his lips and he dipped his chin to his chest but shot me a look through his lashes at the same time.
"We could have fun with that if I wasn't hiding out here, feeling shit-scared of my stalker. I swear, I only ran in here to get that goddamned woman off my heels. I have no idea how she kept up with me because I kept doubling back and slipping in and out of stores. It's like she had planted a tracker on me because she followed me for over two hours around town. However," he stated with a wide wicked grin, "I figure if I had been looking for a beautiful woman to hit on, I couldn't have done any better."
"Oh, you're good. Very smooth," I said, scoffing in disbelief, but then I remembered how genuinely nervous he'd looked as he glanced toward the door each time someone came in. "You must have done something to make her believe you were interested."
When he gave me a devilish grin, I swear he had the decency to look slightly ashamed. And I felt myself blush because I’d guessed what he'd thought. "I guess the night we spent together mattered more to her than it had to me," he replied, cryptically.
"Really?" I scoffed again in mock disappointment. "Hmm, now this I have to hear. Tell me more, Sawyer Michael Wild," I replied playfully. I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table.
Flashing a boyish smile, he raised his eyebrow in surprise, his contagious personality drawing me further to him as I drained my second glass. Despite all the wine, when he indulged me with a sexy grin, its effect made my throat bone dry.
DARE You, Dare Duet, Part One: Billie and Sawyer: Unchained Attraction Series Page 2
