“Jason, watch yourself. Everyone is concerned about your image.”
“I’ll grab something to eat then go back to the hotel. To sleep. Alone.” He clutched the phone, its edges digging into his palm. “There are no groupies hanging around me anymore. Nothing to see. No one to do.” He snapped the phone shut and slouched in the booth. Resentment wafted out in waves, scattering the locals, who steered clear of him, the odd wary glance or suspicious look the only attention he received.
He had to accept the offer. It grated on him to let the team dictate his private life, like a teenager with the parents out of town. He glanced around the dim bar, more from habit than any real interest. His ego taunted him to find a playmate and blow off some steam, prove he was in charge of his own life, not some pencil-pushing general manager. Prove he still had something people wanted, even if it was only sex, because his fame, fortune, awards, respect were all gone. No one wanted him for anything, not even a lousy endorsement selling Viagra.
The crowd parted. An auburn-haired siren, perched on a barstool, sipping a real drink, not a white wine spritzer or something feminine, one of those frou-frou drinks. A real woman. A woman who dared him not to look.
He never could resist a challenge.
As if sensing his interest, she turned sideways on the stool and crossed one knee over the other, her legs going on and on and on, ending in a high heel that could have doubled as a weapon.
Damn. His groin tightened and pressed against his jeans.
She was not the typical barfly, not for this dive. Even though she was in jeans, they were too new and the blouse too high-class, too expensive, too perfect for this mostly blue-collar bar. The patrons recognized quality, judging by the half-hearted, lame pick-up lines being served to her like yesterday’s bread. Her auburn hair was twisted up into a knot, a few tendrils tickling a long, creamy neck. He wanted to loosen that rich hair, feel it cascade over him, bury his face in her neck, and inhale her subtle perfume.
Stupid. Fantasizing about a woman after being told specifically not to get into trouble. He passed off the interest as a by-product of a year-long celibacy. Too bad his rebel side thumbed its nose at being controlled.
The woman deliberately loosened a button on her blouse. She licked her lips, a come hither look in her eyes. Lust slammed him deep in his groin and he felt a stirring that had everything to do with things he should not be doing. Yes, he still had something, sex appeal, the one thing he never lost.
She would be perfect to forget his lousy life.
*
She met hisgaze and flicked a couple of buttons open, displaying more than a little cleavage. Whoa. What a look, sex and sin all rolled into one hot stare. The room temperature rose several degrees. “Yum,” she murmured, not intending anyone to overhear, but she should have known Sophie, her conscience, heard everything.
“Yum, the drink or yum something else?” Sophie followed Stacia’s gaze to the back of bar.
“Yum. Tall, dark and, most importantly, not my regular type.”
“What are you doing, Stace?” Sophie groaned. “I know I said to open up a little. But this?”
“It’s time for this good girl to cut loose. Just once, I don’t want to make decisions. Just one night. I know we talk about a one-night stand all the time, but tonight, it’s my night.”
A man next to her swiveled on his stool to look at her through bleary eyes, not too drunk to miss her declaration. Clearly, he had been here awhile, judging by the slight sway in his posture and the shake in his hand bringing the beer to his mouth. He grinned, the typical drunken how-you-doin’ pick up grin and opened his mouth.
“I’ll stop you right there, Randy,” Stacia interjected, not willing to patronize the local drunk. “We’ve been over this. Not interested. I’m flattered, but no thanks. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever.”
He shrugged and turned to the woman on the other side, who swayed almost as much as he did, but seemed flattered at the attention.
“Okay, that’s it. You’re cut off.” Sophie snatched the glass away from the bartender before he could set it down then moved it out of reach. “A one-night stand is the last thing you need. As of seven o’clock tonight, you’re unemployed, remember?”
“Not unemployed. Just no assignment. You’ve been suggesting this for years. I wasn’t ready back then.” Stacia grabbed the glass and took a healthy swallow. It was time she took control of her life, if only for one anonymous night.
“Now you are?” Sophie frowned, looked more like a headmistress at a girls’ school than her best friend. “I meant to start with some flirting, some conversation. Not tonight. Impulsive isn’t who you are.”
“Maybe it should be.” Stacia continued to study the man in the dark corner, heat building deep in her belly, anticipation growing, along with a reckless excitement.
“Maybe it’s the four Southern Comfort sours talking,” Sophie insisted, her words growing more strident.
“Does it matter?” She leaned forward slightly, displaying more than a little cleavage, exposing a hint of lace.
“You’re not really considering this are you? Crap, you are.” Sophie grabbed Stacia’s shoulders and turned her around. “This is the alcohol talking. You’ll regret this in the morning on top of your already crappy day.”
“He looks lonely. Maybe he could use some Southern comfort.” Stacia glanced over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on the corner booth. She slipped off the stool, and straightened her clothes, opening her blouse to hint at the cleavage exposed. A moment of nerves had her pausing. This was completely out of her comfort zone. What if he laughed at her? What if he wasn’t even looking at her? What if he took her up on her offer?
She fiddled with the buttons again, uncertainty holding her back. “How do I look?”
“Like you’re looking for sex.” Sophie smiled then smacked herself. “Not what I should be saying right now. This is still a bad idea, Stace.”
“Perfect. Wish me luck.” Stacia grabbed the drink from the bar and walked toward the back booth, hips swaying in what she hoped was a provocative manner. His stare was bold and he assessed her frankly. A feral smile crossed his lips, promising wicked fun and plenty of orgasms, if she wasn’t burned by the heat. Her steps faltered and her mouth dried. She took another sip of her drink to steady her nerves.
“Wait. Right now? How about something to eat, or another drink?” Sophie called after her, and then muttered, “Like she needs more alcohol in her system. Wait for me!”
Stacia ignored her friend, drawn by the magnetism in the stranger, all doubts erased by the promise in his gaze.