Page 8 of Secret Bet

"I suppose. I usually get the lady herdrink."

“Welcome to the twenty first century.” Billionaire playboys shouldn't smell like oak trees. He inched closer to her and moregoose bumps spread and were probably on every inch of herskinnow.

"Tell you what. Why don’t we go together to the bar and watch the drink getpoured.”

“Safe.” As they strolled, she winked, “Don’t trust a woman then. I understand. You should protect your virtue at allcosts.”

A smile grew on his face. “I'm surprised you're here for thewedding."

Men like this did nottalk to girls like her. She swallowed as they stopped near bar stools. "You andmeboth."

“I’ll have a dirty martini.” She told thebartender.

Peter nodded. “Make thattwothen.”

“I thought rich men like yourself drink whiskey neat orcognac.”

“I can live dangerously.” Drinks were ordered and she turned toward Peter. He was so close he might touch her bare arms at anymoment.

“That’s good for you. I prefer a more sedate life these days. I’m sure my interests are too simpleforyou.”

“Interesting. You want simple.” Fire grew inside her as he asked, "Let’s do that. Do you like whatyoudo?"

Perhaps she hadn't just said Century Arms or that she ensured the military had the best options available in weapons. Her mind swirled. She didn't haveto say anything. He would have no idea what she did. She pressed her lips together. "I like ensuring I have a roof over my head, that my father can take cruises whenever he wishes now, and that I have a semblance ofsecurity."

He tilted his head closer. "I pay people to handle security for me, but I'm surprised Century Arms affords youallthat."

She stood still, unsure if she wantedto leave. A warm breeze brushed against herspine.

"I am good at what I do, and I like to do things formyself."

The bartender offered them both their drinks. His gaze narrowed. "Are you alwaysthisdry?"

There it was, right on schedule. Men who had everything were usually the worst lots tospeakto.

"Yes. I'm quite boring. You should leave now and save yourself thetrouble of talking to me. I'm quite sure someone here will find you interesting, like that dark haired beauty who keepsstaring."

He didn’t blink in the direction she pointed. His entire focus was on her. She could hardly breath as he said, "I meant dry as in funny andinteresting."

Funny wasn’t a word that was usually linked to her. His hands went into his pockets. She glanced athis face and saw the dimples appear. "Ahh. Well then, next time beclear."

"Boom. You don't hold backpunches."

‘Go away' was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit her lip closed. Her skin zapped near him. She rubbed her neck. "No, I don't like to waste my time or anyoneelse's."

"You're not a wasteoftime."

He must be kidding. His soft voice was sexy. She wouldn'tbe charmed. She rolled her eyes. "Sure thing,Romeo."

A waiter walked past them with a tray full of champagne. He picked two glasses up and handed one to her. She took a deep breath and accepted the glass. The air around her at the moment was magnetic. She couldn't walk away from himrightnow.

“This is a lot ofalcohol.”

“Drunk women don’t interest me, but I’m sure you canchoose whatyouwant.”

She took the champagne as both their martinis were untouched. It seemed a waste, but she held her tongue. As the waiter left, Peter clinked their glasses together. "Cheers."

Was this because they had spoken for more than a minute? She had never spoken to a man that made her stomach getbutterflies.

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