stared unashamedly at her breasts.
Seven, eight, nine. Bloody hell.
By the time she’d reached the bar area at the rear of the restaurant she’d racked up seventeen checkouts. She inspected her trousers to make sure her fly was done up. It was. There was no other explanation, then—it had to be the pants and top. Somehow, a bit of slinky fabric had convinced everyone she was a sexy siren. How… bizarre.
And, if she was being honest with herself, kind of exciting. She’d spent far too many nights talking shop with the boys while watching other servicewomen beat off admirers with a stick to be above enjoying the very flattering male interest. She was only human, after all.
And maybe more than a little bit tipsy.
Experimenting, she pulled back her shoulders and injected some sway into her hips as she wove her way through the bar.
More eyes turned her way.
Huh. Look at that. I’m really getting the hang of this thing. Who knew it was so easy?
The thought had barely registered when she stumbled down an unexpected step. Her hand flew out instinctively, grabbing the nearest object—which happened to be a very solid male arm holding a very full glass of wine.
CHAPTER TWO
RED WINE FLEW as her weight dragged the arm down. She let out a startled yelp as her hip crashed into her unsuspecting rescuer. For a second she teetered on the brink of losing her balance completely, but he moved incredibly quickly, twisting to face her while his free hand grabbed her other arm. She glanced up and found herself looking into a pair of dark-lashed chocolate-brown eyes that were half concerned, half annoyed.
“You all right there?” he asked.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see the step.”
“But you’re okay now?”
“Absolutely.”
They were standing very close, almost chest to chest. She could smell his aftershave—something woodsy, with leather and spice notes—and she could see the fine lines around his eyes and mouth.
She realized she was staring and took a hasty step backward. Which was when she noticed the huge red stain down the front of his steel-gray shirt. “I ruined your shirt.”
He glanced at himself. “I guess you did.”
“I’ll pay for dry cleaning. Or a replacement. And I’ll buy you another glass of wine. Whatever you want.”
His gaze dipped below her face as he gave her body a slow appraisal. “How about I buy you a drink and we’ll call it even?” There was a cheeky, charming glint in his eye. His behavior was so removed from her usual interactions with men that it took her a moment to understand he was flirting.
“I can’t let you do that. It was my fault.”
The smile in his eyes extended to his mouth. “It was an accident. No harm done.”
“Except to your shirt.”
He made a dismissive sound and flicked his fingers in the air, never taking his eyes off hers.
She found herself smiling in return. “You’re really not mad?”
“It’s a shirt. No big deal.” He offered her his hand. “I’m Rhys, by the way.”
“Charlie,” she said, shaking his hand. His fingers were long and strong, the nails beautifully manicured.
“Short for Charlotte?”
She nodded. “But I’ve always been Charlie.”
He was still holding her hand. She knew she should pull it free, but she was too busy staring into his face.
“Why don’t you join me and my friends.”
She glanced over his shoulder and realized that their whole interaction was being witnessed by a group of eight people.
She threw them a self-conscious smile. “I can’t. I’m having friend with my dinner,” she said. Then she registered what she’d said. “I mean, I’m having dinner with my friend.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile deepened. Normally she’d be embarrassed by her gaucheness, but there was something about the way he looked at her that short-circuited all her usual responses.
“Right. He’s probably going to come after me with an elephant gun if I hold you up much longer, huh?”
“It’s a she. And she’s probably thinking I’ve twisted my ankle in these shoes. Which I almost did.”
“Then I’ll let you go,” he said, his fingers sliding from hers. “But maybe I’ll see you later. We’re going to be here awhile.”
She had no idea what to say to the blatant invitation in his eyes. She’d never had a man look at her like that in her life. Although she could definitely get used to it, especially if they all had intense dark eyes and olive skin and broad, strong chests.
“Um. Maybe.” She took a step backward. “Sorry about your shirt. Again.”
“Forget about it. I already have.”
She nodded and smiled and finally forced herself to walk away from the magnetic pull of his regard.
“Wow,” she whispered to herself as she wove through the crowd.
So that was what it was like to be the absolute focus of a handsome, devastating man’s attention. Heady, a little overwhelming and a lot exciting.
She glanced over her shoulder as she stepped down into the reception area. Her eyes met his and she realized he’d been watching her walk away. As though he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She lifted her hand and gave him the smallest of finger waves. He nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment. The urge to walk back and take him up on his offer of a drink was almost impossible to ignore.
Um, hello? Remember Gina? Earth calling Charlie…
Charlie forced herself to keep moving. The more distance she put between herself and Rhys-the-super-hot, the more sane she felt. For a moment there, she’d bought into Gina’s fantasy of who she was. Which was plain crazy.
“There you are,” Gina said as Charlie returned to the table. “I was about to send out a Saint Bernard with a little barrel of whiskey strapped to his neck. What happened to you?”
“I nearly broke my ankle in these shoes of yours, for starters,” Charlie said. “Plus, I gave some poor guy a bath in his own wine.”
“No way!”
“Way.”
Gina pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop herself
