Page 3 of Kiss and Tell
“I’m Connor,” he said.
When I took his hand, the rough calluses pressed into my skin again. A shiver ran through my belly. He held my gaze, holding on for a second too long. His thumb stroked back and forth along the flesh of my palm.
“I’m Quinn.” I pulled back and fiddled with the hem of my shirt, smoothing it down even though it wasn’t wrinkled. “Are you a regular?”
“I know the owner,” he said.
Alarm shot through me. He knew the owner? How well? Were they close?
I forced myself to calm down. So this guy knew the owner. So what? That had nothing to do with me or my work. We were just two people chatting. Nothing inappropriate about that.
“Do you get drinks for free?” I asked. “Is that why you offered to buy me a round?”
He rested his elbow on the bar and leaned toward me.
“Damn, you got me,” he said.
That curve on his lips was disarming. I found myself inching toward him.
“If this isn’t your regular haunt, where do you usually go out to drink?” Connor asked.
“Bars aren’t really my thing,” I said. “Like I said, I just wanted to check the place out.”
“Then it really is good luck we met each other,” he said, so quiet I had to lean closer to hear.
“Is getting covered in vodka considered good luck?” I asked.
“When it leads to a chance meeting like this, it is.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Only the ones who ruin my favorite shirt.”
“I thought you had three just like it?” I smiled despite myself.
His eyes fell to my lips. I wet them unconsciously. A hint of heat flared up in his gaze. The warmth rising in my stomach matched it.
Connor flicked his eyes away and lifted a hand to flag down the handsome bartender.
“One beer and a vodka cranberry,” he said. “Thanks, Grant.”
“Coming right up,” the bartender said, his light blue eyes lit up with good cheer as he subtly eyed the two of us.
Connor turned back to me.
“Let me guess,” he started. “If bars aren’t your thing, are you more of a cafe person? Those cute indie coffeeshops? Or maybe…” he cocked his head, looking thoughtful. “You’re the type to cozy up with a book and a cup of tea? Something by Jane Austen? Or are you more of the curl up in blankets and cry your eyes out over a Nicholas Sparks movie kind of girl?”
He’d got me with pinpoint precision.
“Is there supposed to be something wrong with that?” I asked.
“Not at all.” Connor looked around surreptitiously, as if about to divulge a secret. He brought his lips to my ear until they were almost touching. My ears turned burning hot. I could feel the curve of his teasing smile. “I’m all for a good night in.”
When he pulled back, our eyes locked. My belly flipped over on itself. His dark gaze penetrated mine. My cheeks flushed.
The way he looked at me straight-on, unflinching, made me feel oddly exposed, as if he were peeling away my every layer. I fell into those depths, willing to lose myself in them.
His gaze dropped to my mouth before flicking back up, as if he couldn’t keep his attention from wandering to my lips. When his eyes met mine again, they were no longer teasing. They were direct and full of fire.
