was flattered, of course. The man was sinfully good looking with that dark hair and those smoldering eyes, a mouth that made her think of long, slow kisses and shoulders that looked as if they could carry the weight of the world.
But he didn’t belong there. She’d recognized that fact even before he’d opened his mouth and started speaking in that smoothly cultured voice that spoke of private schools and a wealth of other privileges.
And she wondered what he was doing in Texas or, more particularly, what he was doing in her bar.
She did know that every time she caught him looking at her, her pulse spiked. And when he smiled, her heart pounded and her blood heated. Though her experience with men was limited, she recognized her reaction for what it was: lust, pure and simple. And when a man looked like the one sitting at her bar, she was certain he had more than enough experience being the object of women’s desires.
The stirring of her own desire, however, was unexpected.
She wasn’t the type of woman to fantasize about having sex with a man she didn’t even know. Of course, her lackluster experience with Trevor had pretty much nixed her fantasies about sex—and the few brief relationships she’d had since then hadn’t given her reason to hope for anything different.
But she poured herself a single glass of wine—part of her usual closing up routine—and slid onto the stool beside his. “Are you really waiting for me to kick you out?”
“I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere else.”
“If I’m going to let you stay while I close up, I’ll need to know more about you.”
“Such as?”
“Where you’re from—because we both know it’s not Texas.”
“Tesoro del Mar,” he told her.
“Treasure of the Sea,” she translated.
“You speak Spanish?”
“A little.” She sipped her wine. “And is it—a treasure of the sea, that is?”
“Absolutely.”
“What brought you from there to here?”
“I was visiting a friend.”
“A girlfriend?” she guessed.
“No,” he said, then, “yes, there was a woman.”
She lifted a brow. “Only one?”
He smiled. “My best friend is getting married. His fiancée is the only woman I’ve seen since I’ve been here.”
“How long has that been?”
“Almost two weeks.”
“And why is it that you’re alone in a bar at quarter after twelve on a Sunday night?”
He made a point of looking her over. “I’m not exactly alone now, am I?”
“Alone except for the bartender,” she clarified.
“I would say alone with an incredibly beautiful woman.”
The heat in his gaze added weight to his words, but Molly wasn’t going to let herself get all tongue-tied and weak-kneed just because a handsome man paid her a compliment.
“I’m flattered,” she said. “But you’re going to be disappointed if you think a few smooth words will convince me to go home with you.”
“Since I don’t even have a hotel room booked, I was hoping you would invite me to go home with you.” There was something in his tone that told her he was only half joking.
“Not going to happen,” she told him.
“Is there anyone special in your life?”
She smiled. “There are a lot of special people in my life.”
“I meant a boyfriend,” he clarified. “Since you’re not wearing a ring, I’m guessing there’s not a husband or fiancé.”
She shook her head. “I don’t really have time to date. Too many other things going on.”
“That might be a valid excuse for neglecting to return a phone call,” he noted, “but it hardly explains not dating.”
“Does a broken engagement explain it better for you?”
He nodded. “Broken heart, too?”
She hesitated a moment, then shook her head. “No, and maybe that’s one of the reasons I haven’t been dating. I realized how close I’d come to making a very big mistake, and I needed some time to figure out what I really wanted.”
“And have you?”
“I’m still working on it.”
“Me, too,” he admitted.
“I would have figured you for the type of man who knew exactly what he wanted.”
“I used to be.” His eyes held hers for a long moment, then his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Not only did I know what I wanted, but I knew how to get it.”
Then he leaned down and kissed her.
And she kissed him back.
She, Molly Shea, who didn’t do anything spontaneous or impulsive, was kissing a stranger in a bar—and thoroughly enjoying every second of it.
Because—WOW—he knew how to kiss.
Her brain scrambled to find an explanation for this inexplicable turn of events. She wanted to blame the wine, though she’d only had half a glass. She might consider the lateness of the hour, except that she was accustomed to working nights and wasn’t at all tired. Or maybe it was just the strength of a purely physical attraction that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
His tongue slid between her lips and the random thoughts and desperate explanations faded into nothingness as her brain seemed to stop functioning altogether.
His hands slid up her back, drawing her close, closer. Her breasts grazed the solid wall of his chest. Her nipples tightened, her belly quivered. He drew her to her feet, and she pressed herself against him, shocked—and aroused—to feel the hard ridge of his erection against her belly.
He wanted her.
Of course, he was a man and the state of his arousal might have more to do with that fact than the identity of the woman in his arms, but she wasn’t going to worry about that now. She was just going to bask in the knowledge that she was wanted, revel in this affirmation of her feminine power. At least for another minute.
Had she ever been kissed so thoroughly? Until her blood felt like molten lava pulsing through her veins and her knees went weak and everything inside her started to quiver? Never.
Not
