me your tally first. How many men looked at you?”
Charlie turned her head and gazed along the length of the restaurant. She could see the bar from here, but not Rhys’s dark head. “Um, I’m not sure. I lost count,” she said distractedly.
“You lost count. I rest my case.”
The waiter arrived with their meals before Charlie could respond. She used the interruption to change the subject.
The champagne kept flowing as they ate, although Charlie was old enough and wise enough not to drink too much. Still, there was no denying that she was feeling very relaxed by the time she and Gina had polished off a dessert platter.
“Okay. Where to next?” Gina said as she licked the last smear of chocolate sauce off her spoon.
Charlie let her gaze slide to the bar again. Was Rhys still there? And if he was, would he still want to buy her a drink? Or had he already met some other non-wine-spilling woman who knew how to respond when a handsome man looked at her with approval?
“What about a drink at the bar?” she heard herself say.
Gina shrugged. “Sure, babe. It’s your night. Let’s go.”
What are you doing? What do you think is going to happen if you go to the bar? Have you forgotten who you are?
She hadn’t. Not really. She’d always been a realist, pragmatic and practical to her bones. But thanks to copious quantities of good champagne and her borrowed clothes, she was buzzing with a sense of possibility tonight. As Gina had said earlier, this was the first day of the rest of her life.
Everything was in flux—including, maybe, her sense of who she was. Because hadn’t Gina proven to her that maybe her sense of self was a little outdated or skewed? Hadn’t Rhys-the-sexy looked at her as though she was a morsel he wanted to devour? Hadn’t nearly two dozen men eyed her with masculine approval when she’d walked past?
You’ve been drinking. You should walk out of here right now and go home and eat some crackers and drink a whole lot of water.
The voice was probably right. It had saved her from making a lot of bad decisions in her life, that voice. But she didn’t want to listen tonight. She wanted more of the feeling she’d experienced when she’d caught Rhys tracking her every move with his dark, heated gaze. For that precious handful of seconds she had felt powerful and knowing and invincible and incredibly sexy.
It might be an illusion—maybe even a delusion—but she wanted more of it. Even if it meant she was setting herself up to fail spectacularly.
RHYS TOOK A PULL from his beer, an ear tuned to the debate Greg was having with Brett, one of their engineers, while his gaze roamed the crowded bar.
She hadn’t come back. He’d been hoping she would, but it had been more than an hour since the mysterious and sexy Charlie had sashayed her way to her table. Which probably meant he should put her out of his mind.
Easier said than done. It had been a long time since he’d felt such an instant attraction to a woman. Certainly a woman he’d met in a bar. He’d done his fair share of hound-dogging in his early twenties, but it had been years since he’d prowled a bar in the hope of meeting someone. Not that that was what he was doing tonight, of course—they were here to celebrate. But there was no denying the instinctive, primal pull he’d felt when staring into Charlie’s cinnamon-brown eyes. An attraction that had only intensified when he checked out the rest of her.
He’d never had a “type” of woman he was attracted to—he preferred to think of himself as an equal-opportunity admirer of the opposite sex—but there was something about Charlie’s lithe, willowy body that really worked for him. Especially in that clingy, sexy top and pants she was wearing.
Give it up, man. She’s gone home.
He gave the bar one last scan before focusing fully on Greg and Brett. Something caught the very edge of his vision and he did a double take—and grinned.
She was standing at the bar with a short, blonde woman. He watched as they had an intense discussion that involved the other woman pushing Charlie’s wallet into the small handbag she was carrying and turning to the barman. Charlie shrugged philosophically, apparently resigning herself to having her friend buy her a drink. Then she turned to scan the crowd. Rhys felt a thud of satisfaction when she paid particular attention to the spot where they’d enjoyed their first encounter. His group had moved in the past hour, commandeering a conversational grouping of couches and armchairs, but Charlie didn’t know that and the disappointed expression on her face when she found no sign of him did great things for his ego.
Not that he usually needed a lot of help in that direction, as his two younger sisters were always happy to inform him.
She’d come looking for him. Pointless to deny that he was pretty damn happy about that.
His gaze locked on her, he put down his beer and stood. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said to no one in particular.
He made his way through the crowd, never losing sight of her. She’d turned to face the bar by the time he reached her side and he took a moment to admire the long, slender lines of her body. Her halter top left most of her back exposed, revealing pale, creamy skin and finely honed muscles. His gaze slid to her butt, showcased in some kind of shiny, slippery-looking fabric that made him want to reach out and touch. She had a great ass—small and tight and perky as hell—and legs that went on forever.
He wanted her. Badly.
Her friend handed her what looked like a margarita and he waited until she’d taken a sip before speaking.
“I thought we had a deal.”
She glanced over her shoulder and he knew he wasn’t imagining the warmth in her eyes.
“You can buy my next drink,” she said, then they both simply stood there and ate each other up with their eyes.
Her friend nudged her none too subtly in the ribs and Charlie blinked.
“Sorry. Rhys, this is Gina, my friend. Gina, Rhys.”
Gina’s gaze went immediately to the stain on the front of his shirt. “So you’re wine guy. Nice to meet you.”
“I guess I am. Nice to meet you, too.” Rhys’s gaze returned to Charlie. “Come join us.”
Charlie looked at Gina, clearly gauging her reaction.
“Sure. Why not,” Gina said.
“We managed to score a couple of couches,” he explained before making his way through the crowd. At a certain point he sensed they weren’t following him and he turned to find Charlie and Gina engaged in a quick, quiet discussion that involved lots of hand gestures from Gina and an embarrassed, self-conscious little smile from Charlie.
He liked that smile. It told him a lot about Charlie and what she wanted. She glanced up and realized he was waiting and offered him a broader, brighter smile before starting toward him.
“Sorry,” she said when she reached his side.
He
