by Lauren Rowe
My breathing hitches at the blaze in her eyes. The flush in her cheeks. She’s the sexiest little creature I’ve ever beheld. “Duly noted. I apologize. Condescending to you wasn’t my intention.”
“Well, shit, I hope not. If it was, that would make you absolutely terrible at seduction.”
I can’t help laughing my ass off. She’s unleashing the kraken on me in a way that’s making me smile from ear to ear.
“You want to know a secret, Mr. Rivers?” she says conspiratorially. “I truthfully can’t wait to see you take your best shot at seducing me. Don’t get me wrong; I haven’t yet decided if I’m going to let you be successful. But I’m certainly up for watching you try.”
Okay, who’s the liar now? Georgina’s red-hot desire to get absolutely desecrated by me has been written all over her face from the minute she winked at me in the lecture hall.
I lean forward, matching her posture. “Aw, Georgina. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. I’m going to be wildly successful at seducing you, and we both know it. In fact, when the time is right tonight, I’m going to invite you to come to my house. And we both know what you’re going to say in reply when I do.”
She flashes me a snarky look. “I have no idea what I’d say to an invitation like that. Maybe if I had more highly formative life experiences, it’d be a different story. But as it is, I’m too busy play-acting confidence in my mommy’s heels to know what I think or feel or want.”
She flashes me a spicy little look that says, Take that, you condescending prick, and I’m suddenly dizzy with my desire for her.
I bite my lip. “So, it’s gonna be like that, huh?”
“You bet your ass it’s gonna be like that.”
A palpable current of electricity passes between us. Sexual desire that shoots straight into my cock. “All right, beautiful. We’ll go around and around for a while before I extend my invitation. We’ll play a pointless, but highly entertaining, game of cat and mouse, just for the fun of it. But, I promise you, when the game ends, you’re gonna say yes to me.”
She shrugs. “Who knows what I’ll say?” She winks. “But I can’t wait to find out.”
I return her wink. “Let the seduction begin.”
Chapter 8
Reed
“Georgie!” the male bartender shouts from the other end of the bar, making her jerk backwards from our sexy conversation. “You need help over there?”
“No, I’m good!” She returns to me. “You’ve got to order something, or I’m gonna get in trouble.”
I throw down a hundred, order a beer for me, Scotch for Josh, and a gin martini for Henn. “Keep the change, as long as you take your sweet time making that martini.”
“You got it.” She gets to work.
“You’re not even going to pretend to check my ID?” I say teasingly. “Way to make a guy feel old, bartender.”
She slides my beer across the bar. “You already told me you’re thirty-four. Are you saying you’re a liar?”
“I’m saying I could have been lying.”
“Yeah, well, the woman at the panel said you graduated from UCLA a decade ago. So unless you’re one of those baby-geniuses who graduates medical school at age ten, I’m thinking it’s safe to assume you were telling the truth. Also, Wikipedia says you’re thirty-four. And we all know Wikipedia is never wrong.”
A stool opens up in front of where Georgina is currently pouring Josh’s Scotch and I quickly snag it. “Ah, you googled me.”
“I did. No shame in that. While I was sitting in the lecture hall, waiting for the start of the program. I’d heard your name for the first time while walking to the event, so I figured it would heighten my experience if I knew a little something about you in advance. I also devoured every photo of you I could find.”
I chuckle. “Did you google all the panelists to ‘heighten your experience,’ or just me?”
“Just you. I’d heard you’re smoking hot, and I wanted to see for myself.”
“And?”
She slides Josh’s Scotch toward me. “And you didn’t disappoint.”
I take a sip of my beer to hide my wide smile. This girl could teach a master class in sexy flirting. “After all the photos you ‘devoured,’ the real-life version of me didn’t disappoint?”
“The real-life version of you made my ovaries vibrate.”
Holy fuck. I can’t believe it, but I feel myself blushing. When was the last time that happened to me? “If I haven’t made it clear enough, I find you smoking hot, too. Seriously, you’re absolutely stunning, Georgina.”
She bats her eyelashes. “Thank you.”
“If I’d seen you while waiting for the panel to start, and somehow knew your name, I would have sat there googling the shit out of you, too, including devouring every photo of you in existence online.”
“Sorry to say, you would have been disappointed. I’m boring online. Not a single scandalous photo out there.”
“No? Come on. There’s got to be something scandalous out there. Maybe some naughty photos with a male stripper at a drunken twenty-first birthday party?”
She grabs a shaker for Henn’s martini. “Nope. Your online presence is way more scandalous and naughty than mine.”
“Uh oh. What photos of me did you see?” I gasp in mock horror. “You saw my crown jewels, didn’t you?”
She freezes mid-shake on the shaker. “You’re telling me there’s a photo of your crown jewels out there, and I missed it? Shit on a shingle! I’m embarrassed to call myself an aspiring investigative journalist.”
I chuckle. “No, no. I have no idea if anything like that exists. I’m just saying it could. I’ve jumped fully naked off more than a couple yachts and diving cliffs in my day. Gone surfing and kayaking and waterskiing buck naked while shitfaced. I even went snowboarding naked down a private bunny slope once, after losing a bet at a party. Almost froze my ass, dick, and nuts clean off.”
She giggles.
“It wasn’t a laughing matter at the time. Unfortunately, the shrinkage factor was off the charts.”
She laughs even harder.
“After all the crazy stuff I’ve done,” I say, “God only knows what photos of me could be out there. I haven’t googled myself in a long time to find out, so I really don’t know.”
She slides Henn’s martini onto the bar. “Why haven’t you googled yourself in a while? Shouldn’t a guy like you keep up with what the world is saying about you?”
I take a long swig of my beer. “I used to keep up with that stuff, back when I was first coming up. I considered myself a student of the fame industrial complex. The cult of celebrity. I was ahead of my time, well aware the secret to my success was positioning myself as an ‘influencer.’ But once I got to the top of the heap, I realized keeping up to date on what people think of me—or, rather, of the online avatar they think is me—is a colossal waste of time. I’m not real to them, so who gives a shit what they think?”
She bends over to grab something behind the bar, and, as she does, I peek at her outrageous cleavage. Goddamn, I can’t wait to suck those incredible tits. That’s the first thing I’m gonna do when I get her to my house: peel off that shirt and absolutely devour those—
Oh. She’s straightened up again and is staring at me—fully aware I just got hopelessly lost in fantasies about her tits for a minute there.
“I looked at your Instagram,” she says, running a rag across the bar. “Looks like your avatar is having a pretty exciting life.”
“He is.”
“Sadly, though, I saw no evidence he’s gone naked-snowboarding recently.”
I finish off my beer and shrug. “Partying is an important part of my job.”
“Poor, poor Reed has to work so damned hard.”
I laugh. “I’m not complaining. I have fun. But make no mistake about it: I really do work hard. Very hard. You might have read on my Wikipedia page, I’ve got a few businesses to run?”
“Honestly, I was too focused on d
rooling over photos of you in your swim trunks to read too much about what you do for a living. And it’s a good thing I didn’t waste my time reading about all that stuff, anyway, seeing as how you’re only planning to ‘seduce’ me. Who gives a crap what either of us does, or likes, or dreams about, or feels passionately about, when the only endgame is you getting me into your bed, right?” With that, she slides a refilled beer glass in front of me, even though I didn’t order it. “A gift from me, Mr. Rivers. Because I can only imagine how thirsty seduction makes a guy. Especially when he’s trying to seduce a young, stupid thing like me who’s running around in her mommy’s heels, play-acting confidence.” With that, she turns on her heel and strides to the other end of the bar to tend to another customer.
And I’ve never been more determined to make a woman say yes to me in my entire fucking life.
***
“You’re still sitting here?” Georgina says, sidling up to me.
“I’m still sitting here,” I reply. I toss two hundred bucks onto the bar in front of her, right next to the two untouched drinks I ordered for Josh and Henn mere minutes ago. “Let’s make it three martinis this time, Georgina. All of them made extra slowly. Keep the change, like before, as long as you take your sweet time making my order.”
“You got it.” She scoops up the cash, thanks me, and gets to work.
“Can I ask a stupid question?” she asks. “Are you famous? I can’t tell. You were the biggest star on the panel. And you’re all over the internet, hanging out with rock stars and celebrities. In some photos, you’ve even got a bodyguard or two. And yet, here you are, at Bernie’s Place on a Thursday night, with no bodyguards, acting like a regular dude. Well, a very well-dressed regular dude with an extremely nice watch.”
I take a sip of the Scotch originally intended for Josh. “I have what I’d call ‘situational fame.’ People in the music industry know who I am. At music festivals, I have to roll with at least two bodyguards, so I don’t get attacked by wannabes. But just living my life in the world, like tonight, I can hang out with no problem. It’s the best of both worlds.”
“Meaning you wouldn’t want to be more famous, if you could?”
“Hell no. I’ve seen massive fame close up, with some of my artists and past girlfriends, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. That’s what doomed a few of my relationships, actually. The woman being too famous, or wanting to be. It’s a drug for some people. And, as we all know, drugs don’t lead to a happy ending.”
“Fame is the culprit in your failed relationships? You’re sure about that?”
I chuckle. “Well, that and I can sometimes turn into a colossal prick when I get bored.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Plus, I’m generally what you’d label ‘non-committal’ when it comes to relationships in the first place, so that could have contributed to the demise of a few of my relationships, as well.”
She frowns. “Ah, so, you’re a cheater?”
“No. If I say I’m exclusive, then I am. It’s just really, really hard to get me to say I’m exclusive.”
She nods, apparently approving of that answer. “I’m the same way.”
“You turn into a colossal prick when you get bored, too?”
She giggles and winks. “Only when provoked. No, I consider myself ‘non-committal’ at the moment, too. For the foreseeable future, anyway. While I’m trying to launch my budding journalism career, I’ve decided not to focus on anything or anyone else.”
“Do you have a job lined up after graduation?”
“No, unfortunately.” She secures the lid on a metal shaker. “That’s why I went to that event today. To try to give CeeCee a couple of my writing samples. My dream job is writing for her latest magazine, Dig a Little Deeper.”
“I’m familiar with it. I think you’d be great at that. You’re obviously good at connecting with people. Drawing them out.” And wrapping them around your pretty little finger, I’m sure.
“Thank you. Fingers crossed.”
“Was it mission accomplished with CeeCee? Did she take your writing samples?”
“She did. I got lucky and bumped into a professor after the panel who introduced us, and then CeeCee invited me to coffee. That’s why I left without saying a word to you—because when opportunity came knocking, I did exactly what you told me to do: I said, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’”
I chuckle. “Well, fuck. When I instructed you to say those three magic words, I was hoping you’d be saying them to me—and under much more intimate circumstances.”
She flushes. “What did you think when I left with CeeCee?”
“I was intrigued. I couldn’t decide if you were CeeCee’s new personal assistant or intern or niece, or if you were playing the world’s most masterful game of chess with me.”
She slides a martini in front of me. “With you? How could me leaving with CeeCee have anything to do with you?”
I shrug. “It was an event for music students, so, I assumed you had to be an aspiring pop star with a demo in your pocket, like everyone else in the building. I thought you’d seen my long line and decided you’d get far more traction out of leaving with CeeCee—and gambling on me tracking you down tomorrow—than staying and trying to compete for my attention.”
She looks shocked. “Damn. That’s quite a leap. When I left with CeeCee, I was sure I’d never see you again. I can’t even imagine thinking two moves ahead like you’ve suggested.”
Jesus, she’s such a bullshitter. “Yeah, well, if you’d actually been a music student who wanted to use me for more than my hot body,” I say, “then I guarantee you’d not only have played chess with me, you’d have been fucking Bobby Fischer.”
“Who’s that?”
I smile to myself. For a second there, I’d forgotten how young she is. “He’s generally regarded as the best chess player who ever lived.”
“Oh.”
“After observing you, I’ve got no doubt you’d be fully capable of playing chess like him, if the need arose.” I sip Josh’s Scotch again. “Seriously, Georgina, you wouldn’t believe the shit people do to get my attention. Nothing surprises me anymore.” I take a sip of the martini she slides across the bar and suddenly realize she looks sincerely offended by something I’ve said. “Oh, come on. Really? Don’t act like I’ve slandered you by calling you out, Little Miss Journalism Student Who Goes To A Music Event to Ambush CeeCee Rafael. You’re a hustler, baby. Scrappy and relentless. I’ve seen the way you expertly hypnotize your customers, including me, into giving you big tips. Don’t even try to pretend you’re not fully capable of playing chess as masterfully as Bobby Fischer.”
She blushes crimson, letting me know I’ve pegged her right.
“But it’s all good, Georgie girl. I’m a chess-playing hustler, too. In fact, one of my mantras in life is ‘All good things come to those who hustle.’” I raise my glass to her. “To being scrappy and relentless. To hustling and playing chess.”
She slides my third martini in front of me, looking tentative. But after a moment, a delightful sort of “what the fuck” expression washes over her gorgeous features. She grabs one of the martinis and clinks my glass with it. “To playing chess.” She grins. “Even more masterfully than Bobby Fischer.”
Chapter 9
Georgina
“You about done over here?” Marcus asks, appearing out of nowhere next to me. “We’re slammed, Georgie. Now isn’t the time to take an extra-long break.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Mr. Rivers here just—”
“Ordered ten more drinks,” Reed interjects. He pulls out his wallet, and places another Benjamin onto the bar—this one, for Marcus. “A little something for the extra load you’ve been carrying because I’ve monopolized Georgina’s attention.”
Marcus glares at the bill on the bar before returning to me. “You need help making his order?”
“No. They’re all pretty simple drinks.”
“And I’m in no rush,” Reed suppl
ies.
“I’ll work like a bunny,” I say. “Sorry I’ve been MIA.”
“Here’s another hundred for you, man,” Reed says, placing another bill next to the first. “I didn’t think about how me monopolizing Georgina was impacting your night. Hopefully, this will make up for it.”
Marcus mutters something under his breath. But, ultimately, he scoops up the cash and shuffles away, looking thoroughly annoyed as he goes.
“Oh, God. It killed him to take that money from you,” I say, laughing.
Reed resumes his bar stool. “And yet, he took it. Proving, once again, the accuracy of one of my favorite mantras: ‘Everybody’s got a price. To get what you want from someone, you just have to figure out what their price is, and bribe the shit out of them with it.’”
I scowl. “That’s one of your favorite mantras? Jeez, Reed. That’s dark.”
“I’m wildly successful in a cut-throat industry. You expect my favorite mantras to be about rainbows and unicorns and singing ‘Kumbaya’?”
I squint at him. Is it weird I’m not sure I like him, but I’m hella certain I want to fuck the living hell out of him? “Do you actually want another ten drinks, or was that just a ruse to get Marcus out of my hair?”
“Heck yeah, I want ten drinks. Let’s give my buddies a magical mystery tour of beverages to choose from.”
“You’ve got buddies here? This whole time I thought you were alone.”
He turns around and directs my attention to two guys at the pool table: a hot male-model type who’s cut of the same cloth as Reed, and a nerdy-hipster guy who looks like he could be his hot buddy’s modeling agent. Reed returns to me, smiling. “Let’s make my buddies ten of the most complicated, time-consuming assortment of drinks you can muster.” He places three hundreds in front of me. “Your tip, on top of whatever the ten drinks cost, if it takes you at least twenty minutes to complete my order.”
