Page 11 of Body Shot

4

HAYDEN

No. Maybe a tiny bit of warmth from the tequila is flowing through my veins, but I’m far from drunk.

“This fine spirit hails from Jalisco, Mexico,” Marco says. “It’s distilled by master Juan Esteban Ortega, one of the most well-respected tequila distillers in the industry. Aged six to nine months in American white oak barrels, it has a smoky bouquet with notes of spice.”

I take another sip and feel Beck’s eyes on me as I do. “As you said, Hayden, there are notes of creamy vanilla, burnt orange and a hint of toffee. Elegant and sophisticated, but with enough bite to create some excitement.” The husky tone of his voice and the heat in his eyes definitely has excitement sizzling inside me. And his words could be referring to something else entirely.

I rub my face. Oh God.

“So, which one is your favorite?” Beck places both hands on the bar in front of me and leans in, nodding at the empty glasses.

I consult my notes. “The Don Julio,” I say decisively.

“Excellent choice. One of my personal favorites too.” His voice goes low and husky and I stare into his dark eyes. “Lush. Warm. Spicy.”

I blink and drop my gaze to the glass in my hand. Slowly I tilt it, and the last golden drop slides down the side. I dip my fingertip into it and then touch it to my tongue.

“Jesus.” Beck’s murmured curse is barely audible but I lift my gaze back to those amazing eyes, framed with thick dark lashes. Heat shimmers between us.

I close my lips around my fingertip as I draw it out of my mouth. “Mmm. You’re right. Spicy.”

For a moment, the rest of the bar fades around us, but I’m brought back to reality as Marco wraps up the tasting lesson, handing out coupons for free appetizers on our next visit while the pretty waitress who served us chips brings out platters of nachos, mini chimichangas, and chicken wings.

Carrie’s in a conversation with Will, beside her, that I can’t hear, so I look around the bar, feeling a little dazed. And not just from the tequila.

Some people have left, others stick around to order more drinks. Beck approaches again and sets a glass in front of me.

I look up at him, raising my eyebrows

“On the house,” he says in a low voice, leaning toward me and winking. “The Don Julio.”

The one I liked the best.

“Thank you.” I’m not sure why I’m getting a free drink, but I pick it up and sip.

“I don’t know your name.” Beck holds out a hand.

“Hayden. Hayden Miles.” I set down the drink and slide my hand into his. He grips my fingers firmly and holds on. A tingle starts low in my belly at the warm clasp of his hand and the way he’s looking at me.

“Good to meet you, Hayden. I mean, we already met, but now it’s official.”

That smile. Oh my God, that lazy, sinful smile. The tingles spread outward through my entire pelvis and up into my breasts.

“So glad you appreciate the complexity of a fine tequila,” Beck says.

Warmth expands from my chest through my body and fades into a faint prickle, except between my thighs, where heat still pulses. Feeling a little buzzed from the tequila and from Beck’s attention, I smile.

“Did you know you can make diamonds out of tequila?” Beck asks, still leaning on the bar.

I blink, but the scientist in me considers that. “I’ve heard of scientists working on turning organic solutions like acetone and ethanol into diamonds. I guess tequila is ethanol.”

“Yes, it is.” Beck’s eyes fasten on my face as he speaks and we both lean closer, across the bar. “Most people call bullshit when I tell them that.”

“It’s not bullshit, it’s science,” I say seriously. “I believe you.”

The corners of his lips lift. “Thank you. Yes, eighty-proof tequila—”

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