He let go with one last caress of his thumb. He took the hem of his shirt between two fingers and waved it back and forth as if to air-dry it. A hint of his toned abs peeked out from underneath the shirt as it peeled away from his skin.
My face turned hot.
That spark in his eyes changed, no longer simply interest, but something deeper.
The spark kicked me out of my haze. I’d seen that look on guys before. It always preceded some cheesy pick up line. I braced myself.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “How about I buy you a drink to make it up to you?”
“Smooth,” I said. “Did you run into me on purpose just to ask that?”
He looked shocked, before a slow smile crossed his face.
“No,” he said. “I like this shirt. I wouldn’t ruin it on purpose, not even for a chance to talk to a pretty girl like you.” He held out my glass for me to take. I did so with limp fingers. “But I’ll take the excuse,” he continued. “What’ll you have?”
He didn’t askifhe could buy me a drink. That kind of over-confidence might have been a turn off, but the sincerity in his eyes softened my resistance.
“Vodka with cranberry,” I said.
“So that’s why my shirt’s pink now.”
“Sorry again,” I said. “I should be the one buying you a drink for ruining your shirt.”
“I have three just like it.”
“I still feel bad. It’s stained pink. You won’t be able to wear it anymore.”
“You don’t think I can pull off pink?” he asked.
“I think you could pull off anything you wanted.”
Including those tight jeans that showed off every muscle in his thighs.
His full lips curled into a smile, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking and was pleased by the response.
“How about this,” he said. “I get the first round and you get the second. That sound fair?”
He put his hand on the small of my back to guide me to the bar, but exerted only the slightest pressure. Enough to feel his fingers through my shirt, but not enough to feel like I was being herded along.
“You come here often?” he asked.
“First time,” I said.
That dark gaze swept me up and down again.
“Lucky chance we ran into each other, then,” he said.
This guy was beyond good-looking, and he knew it, too. This wasn’t the first time he’d picked up a woman at a bar.
But there was something about that smile. Something in it that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
I took a seat on one of the bar stools, perching on the edge and examining him closely. He sat next to me, swiveling his chair so we faced each other.
“It’s a bad day to come,” he said. “This place is shutting down tomorrow.”
“That’s why I’m here,” I replied. “I wanted to check it out before it’s gone.”
He held out his hand.