she didn’t want him to. Her thoughts whipped through a couple of sharp responses, rejecting each one. She was never going to see him again, so what did it matter what name she gave him?
“Bonnie.” She crossed her fingers beneath the bar, hoping her dearest friend would forgive her for pulling her name out of the hat.
Rafe took another sip, regarding her with inscrutable eyes. “You don’t look like a Bonnie.”
“No?” She swallowed hard. “What do I look like?”
“Like a beautiful woman who just got out of a painful relationship.”
Shock wheeled through her system. “Excuse me?”
How could he have known that? Or was it just some kind of pickup line?
His fingers moved to her left hand, which was lying flat on the bar, and slid up her ring finger, rubbing across the base of it. “The ring just came off. I saw you drop it in your purse right before you came over here. Unless you’re just looking for a good time. And you don’t seem like that kind of girl.”
This time she wasn’t going to lie. “I’m not. So what are you in here for?” She motioned toward the empty glasses. “Or do you simply get hammered every night?”
“Oh.” His thumb rubbed across her finger again, sending more heat shooting through her veins. “I am not hammered. Not by a long shot.”
The bartender knew his name, though, so he was a regular. She came in with friends from time to time, but not often enough for Ron to actually know her by name. Thank goodness. Otherwise he might just tell this man what it was. And she didn’t want that.
“Four whiskeys is a lot to drink at one time.”
“Maybe. But I’ve celebrated this day at Ron’s for the last eighteen years or so. I think I know my limit.”
Okay, she had no idea how to respond to that, since his voice hinted that the date didn’t hold good memories. Especially not if he spent the night getting drunk every year.
Death of a spouse? A child? Divorce?
Each option went through her head, but there was no way she could voice any of them aloud. The doctor in her came to the surface, however, and she couldn’t help but ask. “You don’t normally drive yourself home, do you?”
“No. I spend the night at a hotel just around the corner.”
She blinked. There was something about the way he said those words...
Oh.
“You’re not alone when you go there.”
“No.”
She glanced at the coffee mug in front of him. Why had he suddenly stopped drinking?
Maybe for the same reason she’d found her way to this particular barstool and engaged a handsome man in conversation. Was it just to get back at her ex?
Yes. And why not? Darrin would never know. But she would. And she could show the universe that she too knew how to play the game.
She lifted her chin. “I wasn’t planning on leaving here alone either.”
His thumb paused its stroking for just a second. “Did you have your sights on anyone in particular?”
“I’m talking to him.”
Cassie couldn’t believe she’d just said that. But why the hell shouldn’t she have a little bit of fun? If he was celebrating something dark and disturbing, then that made two of them.
Unless he was a serial killer or something. Maybe she should check just to make sure. She blurted out, “So, how do you know Ron?”
“My family has known him for years. Including mi hermanos.”
He’d lapsed into Spanish with such ease that he must speak it regularly. He didn’t mention his mother or father, however. Just his brothers. Regardless, it was doubtful he was a Jack the Ripper type if his family and Ron’s were friends. Ron was a great judge of character, from what she’d seen and heard.
Speaking of the devil, the bartender appeared back in front of them. “How are things?”
“I think we’re about ready to get out of here.” Rafe pulled out his wallet and dropped some serious-looking cash on the counter.
“I can pay for my own drink,” she said to cover the disappointment caused by the loss of his touch.
“You can get them the next time.”
There wouldn’t be a next time, and they both knew it. But it was either sit there and argue, and possibly ruin the delicious awareness that had been slowly building in her, or let it go.
She let it go. This lie was one she could overlook. Unlike her fiancé’s declarations that “It wasn’t what it looked like.” Things were normally exactly how they seemed. No longer want a child? Transfer them to another home. Tired of your fiancée? Move on to the next woman.
Want a temporary fling? Head to Mad Ron’s Bar.
Yep, she definitely knew how to play.
“Next time,” she murmured.
He stood, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans.
For a second she thought he was planning on leaving. Alone. Until he held out his hand.
There was still time to chicken out. To sit there like she didn’t have a clue what he meant. Except she’d basically told him she wanted to hook up with him.
So she slid her fingers into his, relishing the way they enfolded hers in a strong grip. Her stomach somersaulted as she allowed her legs to swing to the floor. They shook, but somehow she braced her high-heeled sandals beneath her and remained standing. He said he normally went to a hotel a short distance away, but in little Heliconia there were several places that would fit that description. Some more respectable than others.
Who needed respectable for what they were about to do?
Not her, that was for sure.
Rafe towed her through the crowd and out the door. Twin pots of gardenias flanked the entrance, the breeze lifting the heavy fragrance of the blooms and sending it out into the night. She could hardly believe she was leaving a bar with a total stranger.
How long had it been since she’d done something so...dangerous?
And there was no mistaking that the man gripping her hand was dangerous, no matter how well he knew Ron. He was far removed from the world of her financier ex, who was busy building his empire—and amassing women as easily as he did money, evidently. Well, he was now down one percentage point. Or maybe since she’d been his fiancée, she was worth a little bit more, maybe a point and a half.
What had she learned through this experience? A stable career didn’t always translate into a stable life.
