His breath brushed her ear. “Take my hand, and I’ll show you.”
A shiver worked its way down her neck and along her skin. Every nerve ending screamed for his touch, all the years of pent-up frustration surging to the surface and demanding relief. She needed this escape, this release. She needed to feel like a woman again.
When she looked up at him finally, the pure confidence and interest shining there in his eyes had her nerves smoothing. She knew in that moment that this man would never allow her to be boring in bed. This was a man who got what he wanted. A man who wouldn’t be afraid to tell her exactly what to do, how he liked it, and how he was going to have her.
Suddenly, she wasn’t so interested in sangria anymore.
Or sitting in the car alone to have a good cry.
She reached out and let her hand slide into his.
Maybe she’d scratch something off her list tonight after all.
TWO
After settling her at the bar, Tessa’s mystery date ordered her a sangria.
“Hey, you said you weren’t going to spend any money,” she reminded him. Not that she was opposed to a guy buying her a drink, but she was holding him to his word.
“On the house, ma’am,” the bartender offered as he slid the fruity concoction her way.
Tessa lifted an eyebrow at her date. “Are you the house?”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a boyish expression that almost looked out of place on his Nordic features. “Something like that. Will you excuse me for a few minutes while I get us a table?”
“That’s fine.” She lifted her drink in mock salute and sipped, the rich taste like an elixir for her nerves. God, she’d missed good wine. “I’ll keep this lonely drink company.”
“Lucky for the drink.” He looked to the bartender. “Make sure the lady has whatever she likes.”
“Yes, sir,” the bartender said with a quick nod as he poured drinks for other guests.
Before he could turn to leave, she reached for his shirtsleeve, a sudden thought hitting her. “Wait, I don’t even know your name.”
His smile was easy, pleased. “I know. Yet, you said yes anyway.”
She bristled. Well, hell, what did he mean by that? That she was some trampy chick that didn’t even worry about names before she let some stranger seduce her in a hallway? She frowned, her own internal answer surprising her. Shit. Did she care about his name? This wasn’t a real date. It wasn’t get-to-know-you-to-see-if-we’re-meant-to-be time. They both understood what this was. His name, what he did for a living, where he lived—did any of that matter tonight?
No. It didn’t. In fact, maybe it’d be easier if she didn’t know all that much about him. That’d make it easier to keep this casual and fun. No risk.
“Call me Van,” he said smoothly.
“Van,” she repeated. She got the distinct impression that was some sort of nickname. He wasn’t offering his last, and she wasn’t asking. And if he was going to use a semi-faux name, so could she. “Contessa.”
That was the name on her birth certificate, so it wasn’t a lie. But she hadn’t used the pretentious-sounding thing since elementary school and had legally changed it to Tessa a few years back. However, it was the perfect fit for her night off from her real life. Tonight she wasn’t going to be the recovering trophy wife trying to scrape her way through this new life. Tonight she was going to be a carefree woman who’d scored a fling with a man so freaking gorgeous, he looked like he could’ve walked off a movie set. And she refused to feel bad or guilty about it. She deserved this indulgence, dammit.
“Contessa.” Van said her name as if he were rolling it around on his tongue and tasting the flavor of it. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the top of it while holding her gaze. “Pleasure to meet you.”
She swallowed hard as a hot shiver chased up her arm and down her spine. Man, he was good. Good enough that she should probably be running the other way. Men that smooth and good-looking were dangerous. But hell if she could bring herself to move. Or speak.
“Stay put, Contessa. I’ll be back in a moment.”
He released her hand, leaving her tongue-tied, and headed toward the main dining room. Tessa turned back to the bar to gather herself. She wrapped her palms around her glass to steady her shaking hands. The bartender gave her a quick glance and a barely concealed smirk. Jesus, she must look like some swooning twit. But this wasn’t even close to a fair fight. It’d been so long since she’d had a man lay his charm on her, and certainly never one with as much presence as Van.
Looking back, she realized Doug had never had to truly charm or court her. He’d won her with over-the-top flattery, pretty words, and expensive gifts. Things her inexperience had mistaken for love. He hadn’t had to work any harder than that. He’d been handsome and popular. A jock. The perfect match to her cheerleader. And he’d made her promises she was starved for—promises of security, permanence, and safety. A home she would never have to leave.
What a fucking joke it had all been. He’d wanted a wife for window-dressing. Maybe he’d loved her at some point, or thought he had, but obviously anything that had been there had quickly faded, especially after they’d tried to have kids and failed. She’d been stupid to believe marriage would give her some sort of insta-family, some place in the world. Marriage was a sham sold by fairy tales and movies. Of all her married friends, how many had made it past that ten-year mark? Probably not even half. And the ones who were still together, how many were fooling around behind their spouse’s back like Doug was?
She finished her drink and ordered a second.