and that trust issue, had kept him from acting on his baser impulses. Also, he’d achieved early success through college football at UCLA and already had something to protect when he was twenty-four.
“So why don’t you approach her?” Hudson pressed, gesturing toward the blonde.
Devon took another sip of his drink. “Think I should?”
The song had ended and she was walking off toward a table on her own. “What do you have to lose? She might shut you down, but then you’ll move on to someone else, right?”
Freshly empowered, Devon put down his glass and slid out of the booth. “Good point. Okay. Here I go.”
As soon as he left, Hudson donned the sunglasses he kept in his shirt pocket—he was already wearing a ball cap—and called over the waitress.
Fortunately, she was so busy she barely looked at him, so the disguise seemed unnecessary, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“What can I get for you?”
“That woman over there—what’s she drinking?” He pointed at the lone figure he found so intriguing. He didn’t have to worry about her seeing the gesture, since she had yet to look over at him.
The waitress cast a glance in the direction he’d indicated. “I’d guess a peach margarita.”
Just as he’d thought. “She needs a fresh one. Will you take care of it?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.” He handed her a twenty. “Keep the change.”
When the waitress brought Ellie another drink and explained that a gentleman in a booth not too far away had sent it, she almost refused it, especially when she twisted around and saw that he was wearing sunglasses. What kind of guy was so clueless or affected that he wore sunglasses in a dimly lit bar, especially at nighttime?
She found that behavior slightly ridiculous, but what she could see of the rest of him was appealing. A snug-fitting T-shirt revealed broad shoulders, a solid chest and well-muscled biceps. He seemed tall, even though he was sitting down, and his face wasn’t unattractive. Matter of fact, she liked the square shape of his jaw and the strength of his chin. Don had a weak chin, now that she thought of it—not that she meant to. This guy looked like someone who might be in the military, a pleasant association since she’d always admired the men and women who fought to keep America free.
Besides, she’d come here to take her mind off her troubles, hadn’t she? It wasn’t as if her girlfriends were doing much to help. Every time they came back to the table to check on her, the two men they’d met would drag them off again.
So, after taking the drink from the waitress, she lifted it high to show her gratitude to the man who’d purchased it for her. If some stranger wearing sunglasses in a bar wanted to buy her a drink, let him, she told herself. At least she was starting to relax, to enjoy herself. No doubt the alcohol could take full credit for that. She still felt like crying whenever she thought of Don. But she wouldn’t think of Don. Like everyone else here at Envy, she’d lose herself in the strobe lights, the music and this fresh margarita.
* * *
The woman didn’t seem to recognize him. She gave him a smile that said “Thanks, but I’m not interested.”
Hudson wasn’t used to that reaction. Maybe he’d underestimated the power of a pair of sunglasses. Right now his Ray-Bans seemed to be acting a little like Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak.
Or was it possible that she did realize who he was but simply didn’t care for football players?
Either way, now that he’d seen her more clearly, he was interested in engaging her again. She was pretty and had an abundance of creamy skin to go with that rich, dark hair.
As soon as she finished her drink, he sent over another one—which she sent back without a moment’s hesitation. He could hear her explaining to the waitress that, while she was grateful, she’d had enough. Something about not being irresponsible, which confirmed his first impression. She wasn’t the typical clubber.
When she turned and waved—her way of being polite, thanking him in spite of her refusal to accept the drink—he waved back. Surely, once she got a good look, she’d recognize him. Usually buying a drink for a girl meant she’d be on his lap by now.
This one merely returned to watching the dance floor.
Hudson didn’t want to venture out of the booth, but he did want to talk to this woman, and she wasn’t coming to him. Even more intrigued, simply because she didn’t seem excited about meeting him, he hauled himself out of the booth and eyed her as he approached her table.
Since he came mostly from behind, he startled her when he folded himself into the chair closest to hers. Now she’ll figure out who I am, he told himself. But it was apparent that she had no clue when she introduced herself as Ellie and asked for his name.
Did he have to reveal who he was? He liked blending in for a change. Liked being no different than anyone else. He considered making up a fake identity but couldn’t bring himself to go that far. “Hudson.” He felt certain that would rip away his anonymity—his name wasn’t common—but it didn’t seem to change anything.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked.
She wasn’t being coy. She really didn’t care if he joined her or not. He could tell. “Looked like you could use some company. That’s all.”
She thought that over for a moment, then nodded as if she agreed. “I guess I could. Beats sitting here alone, in any case.” She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here,” he said as they shook.
“Do you live in Miami?”
He wondered if she was being facetious. Could this be for real? Everyone knew he played for Los Angeles, so chances were slim that he’d live clear across the country. But after studying her expression, he decided his first assessment had been correct. She had no idea who he was. “No. Just visiting,” he said. “You?”
“Born and raised in Doral. Now I rent a house in Cooper City.”
“Which is...”
“A suburb not too far from here.”
He gestured at her empty glass. “You turned away my drink. It’s not too late if you’re regretting that decision.”
“No. Alcohol is so unhealthy. I’ve had enough.”
“Isn’t a little alcohol supposed to be good for you?”
He was teasing, but she took him seriously. “You mean red wine. They say that, but you’re killing brain cells in order to help your heart. Doesn’t make a lot of sense. If you’re exercising and eating right, you’re better off without it.”
He held the hurricane he’d brought over loosely in one hand. Since
