edge of the booth, his green eyes—aquamarine, up close—boring into me.
‘May I?’ He nods to the seat beside me and I nod, grabbing my hair and pulling it over my shoulder.
‘Grace?’ he prompts, passing a drink towards me.
I smile belatedly, holding a hand out towards him. Our eyes meet as his fingers curve around mine and warmth spears through me. It’s a handshake, the kind of thing I do all the time, but the way he’s staring at me layers an intensity over it that changes everything.
‘Yeah.’
‘Jagger,’ he says, the name on his lips so much sexier than when Penny purred it like some kind of wild animal.
‘Jagger.’ I’m unable to resist the feel of his name in my mouth.
He smiles when I say it.
‘American?’
‘Yeah.’ His grin’s completely disarming. He braces an arm on the edge of the booth behind me and, even though he’s not touching me, I kind of feel like he is. I feel enveloped by his warmth and nearness.
‘Whereabouts?’ I prompt, lifting my drink towards his in salute.
He chinks it back. ‘New York.’
‘Nice.’
‘You ever been?’
I tilt my head to the side a little, considering. ‘Once.’
‘Did you like it?’
‘What’s not to like?’
He lifts a brow. ‘The traffic. The weather. The noise. The pollution...’
‘Resident problems,’ I say, deliberately moving forward a little so our knees brush under the table. I’m thrilled by the sense of power that gives me—the idea that this is all on my terms. That I know what I’m doing, where we’re going.
‘Not tourists’?’ He doesn’t miss a beat.
‘Nope. Not this tourist. I love the snow.’
‘And you don’t get a lot of that here, right?’
‘Not for long, and not in Sydney.’ I sip my drink thoughtfully. ‘I would have loved to move to New York. I used to think I would.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
I pull a face. ‘It’s not that easy. Life...can get in the way sometimes.’
‘Sure it can.’
I appraise him, my heart racing, blood pounding through my body. ‘Penny says you’re only here for a night?’
He nods. ‘Yeah. Had meetings today and I fly out tomorrow.’
I nod slowly.
‘And you live here?’
‘I moved here for uni,’ I agree. ‘But I grew up farther north.’
‘How far north?’ he asks with curiosity.
‘A little town in Queensland. You know, the kind of place where everyone knows everything about one another, with one main street and not much to do at any time, even less when you’re a teenager.’
‘Sounds like heaven.’ He grins.
‘Yeah, it kind of does.’
‘Your friend says you’re looking for someone to distract you for the night,’ he murmurs, taking a slug of his beer, his eyes holding mine over the bottle.
I nod slowly. ‘I guess I am.’
‘Why?’
I didn’t expect the question, even though it makes perfect, absolute sense. Only a monkey wouldn’t ask. ‘My ex—who happens to be my business partner as well—is getting married tomorrow.’ Somehow, saying those words feels cathartic. So I say more. ‘It was sudden. He’s in love.’ I spit the word with some distaste, earning a wry smile from my companion.
His teeth are so white, his face stubbled in a way that makes me imagine running my fingers over it.
‘And you still love him?’
The question is a good one, one I haven’t asked myself. I shake my head slowly from side to side. It feels good to admit that. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then you don’t believe in love?’
I gnaw on my lower lip. ‘No. I mean yes, I do.’
‘You sounded angry a moment ago.’
‘Did I?’
He nods slowly. ‘You sounded like someone who wants to fuck someone else out of their mind.’
‘He’s not on my mind,’ I say, determined on this point. I’m not turning my first one-night stand in for ever into petty revenge sex. This wouldn’t be about hurting Gareth so much as rediscovering myself, my agency, my right to think of myself as ‘single,’ just like he did—only we were together.
‘It’s...symbolic,’ I say finally. ‘Like a way to mark the date or something.’ I shrug. And then, with bald honesty, ‘Also, I don’t particularly like the idea of him being the last guy I slept with when he’s off on his honeymoon.’
He lifts a brow at my truthfulness. ‘That’s valid.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ I wrinkle my nose. ‘I’m not sure it’s not a little bit fucked up.’
Beneath the table, his hand curves over my knee. ‘It’s not.’ Desire jolts directly up to my thighs, and higher still. Heat pulses between my legs.
‘Really? Speaking from experience?’
His expression is guarded. ‘You could say that.’ His fingers trace a little higher, to the flesh of my thighs. I grab my breath, hold it in my lungs a second, waiting for it to infiltrate my body.
‘How long were you together?’
I can hardly think straight. His fingers creep a little higher and I stare at him beseechingly. It’s not late enough in the night for this—people are still having civilised conversations at nearby tables. I am beyond grateful for the tablecloth that offers some discretion, but if he moves his hand any higher I think I’m going to make some kind of noise to show exactly what he’s doing to me.
He moves his body closer and the arm around the back of the booth curves over my shoulders. Holy crap, this feels good. Better than good. Ah-mazing.
His hand stops mid-thigh.
He’s waiting for me to answer.
‘Two years.’
He
