"No. I don't think you have any trouble getting guys to buy you drinks."
My lips curled into a smile. He liked me. In a let's chat until we're ready to fuck kind of way. "I was supposed to meet a friend. She canceled."
"Not everyone is reliable."
"True."
The way he looked at me was understanding. Sweet, even.
"Are you from the Bay?"
"No."
"So you can't explain the appeal?"
His eyes lit up as he chuckled. It was a strong, deep laugh. He was a strong, deep guy. He had a certain stoic vibe to him. I wanted to peel back his layers. I wanted to understand him. At least for a while. "It can't be the weather."
"You don't enjoy the frigid summers?"
"No." I pressed my lips together. Was this sharing too much? Was I about to insult his beloved city? No. I didn't think so. "I don't get it here. Everyone you meet is a snob or, worse, some programmer who thinks he's better than you because he knows C++. Is there anything good about this city?"
"The rents are making landlords rich."
I laughed. "You would know."
He nodded.
"You don't like it either?"
"You get used to the self-importance."
The cocktail waitress stopped by our table to take our drink order. She accepted my fake ID without batting an eye.
"Let me guess." I slid his jacket off my shoulders and set it in my lap. "You're a venture capitalist and you have to fly here twice a week to hear desperate pitches from egotistical start-up founders."
Nick's eyes were fixed on me. His gaze was already so intense and captivating. I was losing interest in our conversation. What did I need to know about him besides how much I wanted him to take me to his room?
I never reacted to men like that. I'd only been with two—a boyfriend before the accident made everything complicated and a classmate I dated for a few months the previous summer. Neither was worth remembering.
My heartbeat picked up. I shifted back in my seat. "Was I close?"
"Yes. And you're a student as UCSF. A science major. Chemistry."
"Something like that."
The waitress returned with our drinks. Whiskey for him. Rum and diet for me. Nick slid two twenty-dollar bills into her hand. She smiled the way I always smiled after a huge commission.
I took a long sip. It was a perfect mix of sweet and bitter. "What brought you into the city?"
He copied my words. "How do you know I'm not a local?"
"You're staying in a hotel."
"I could be going through a divorce."
I shook my head. I took his left hand and pointed to the base of his ring finger. "You don't have a tan line."
His brows rose. He smiled, impressed. "That's a neat trick."
"It doesn't absolve you of being thrown out by your girlfriend." I met his gaze. "But I can't imagine that."
"Why not?"
"I can't see you letting a woman have that much control of your life. Living with you even."
"That's quite the accusation."
"I guess so. You learn to read people pretty well when you work retail." I pressed my lips together. "Am I wrong? Have you ever lived with a woman?"
"Not one besides my mother."
"Do you have girlfriends or just—" I motioned to our seat in the lounge "—do things like this?"
"Do you have boyfriends?"
"Not since high school."
"Me either."
"You had a boyfriend in high school?"
He looked back at me curiously, like he wasn't sure if I was joking or not.
"Just kidding." I smiled. "Where are you from?"
"Los Angeles. Just as self-important." His gaze went to the jacket in my lap. "But the weather is more tolerable."
That sealed it. He was from Los Angeles. There was no way I'd see him again. There was no reason to hold back anything.
I was so lonely that first semester of college. It wasn't abnormal for my temper and strong will to get me into trouble, but it was so much harder with my sister, my best friend in the world, three thousand miles away.
Nick was listening to me. He was honest. It was my chance to let my guard down for a night, to have a conversation that wasn't bullshit.
I promised myself I'd take advantage of the opportunity. "I'm from New York. I can deal with weather."
"You go out like that during New York winters?"
"You sound like my sister."
"Not your mom?"
"My parents died when I was fifteen."
His voice softened. His expression filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you." I nodded. For once, it felt like someone meant it. Like someone actually cared about me. It filled me in places that usually panged with emptiness. I wanted to talk to him forever. "Why are you in the city today?"
"I had to deal with a problem."
I leaned in closer, studying his dark eyes. They were hard to read but they were honest.
"Is it dealt with?" I asked.
His eyes flared with concern. He nodded and finished his drink. "Hopefully."
"Was it business or personal?"
He looked back to me. "Both, unfortunately."
"You don't seem like the kind of guy who mixes the two."
"I don't. Not usually."
"What happened this time? Seduce your secretary, then kick her to the curb?"
He raised a brow, studying my expression as if he was deciding if I was joking. He must have decided yes, because he smiled.
His voice lightened. "No one is called a secretary anymore. It's administrative assistant."
"Would you?"
"That's an open-and-shut sexual harassment case. I don't need the headache."
"Afraid of litigation?"
"Have you ever dealt with lawyers?"
I shook my head.
"I hope, for your sake, that you never have to."
"What if you were sure she wouldn't sue?"
"It's not a risk worth taking."
We were almost flirting. I had to elevate it. To tease him. "You're chicken?"
He pulled back, his expression hardening. "No. When you're older, you'll realize that there's a difference between bravery and foolishness."
I bit my tongue. I didn't need to be polite with him. I could call him on his bullshit. "So you think you're smarter than everyone younger than you? There's a difference between cowardice and caution. I could say that and make you sound like the one who is wrong."
He smiled. It did things to me, made me dizzy and flushed.
"You called me a chicken," he said.
"So I started it? Very mature, Nick. I thought you were old and wise." I reached out and ran my hand through his soft hair. "Is this all dyed? Are you naturally grey?"
His smile widened. "No."
"Can you prove it?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Yes." He set his hand in his lap.
Oh. That would prove it.
I blushed, unable to do anything but imagine him naked. That sounded like an invitation. I needed to take it. There was something about him... he made me feel safe. Understood.
Like, for once, I wasn't completely alone in the world.
"Then you should," I said.
"Are you a chemistry student?"
"No. But I am in STEM."
"You're naturally skeptical."
I nodded. "I have a hypothesis, and I need to test it. To find proof." Finishing my drink pushed my boldness. "It's very trendy to tell women to study STEM. No one approaches it like this though."
"You'd rather colleges tell women they can use STEM to get laid?" He laughed. "I hope you aren't going into politics."
"No." I bit my tongue just in time to keep from admitting I was a programmer. That would make it easy for him to find me. "I'm a science girl, through and through."
"You're a beautiful, smart young woman. I doubt you need STEM to get laid."
My cheeks flushed. "Thank you." My tong
ue was tied. I had to regain control of the conversation. "It does improve my odds. My classes are eighty percent male. The guys love talking to me because they think I'm a ditz."
"You don't carry yourself like a ditz."
"I wear heels."
"And glasses."
"You can't be an idiot in glasses?"
"An idiot, yes. I have the misfortune of working with many idiots in glasses. But a ditz? No. You'd lose your glasses."
I laughed. "That's your argument?"
He nods.
"It's flimsy."
"I'm not a lawyer."
I nodded and took a deep breath. I was done with teasing. I stared back into his eyes. "Will you prove it?"
"If you want me to fuck you, you should ask."