I need this.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and marched forward, weaving through the throngs of people to the front of the line. Holding my head high, I ignored every groan and unflattering comment aimed at me.
After giving the bouncer my name, I stepped through the open doors, pausing for a second to allow my eyes to adjust. The club was dimly lit with flashing lights. Music pounded from the speakers, vibrating my bones and muddling my thoughts. Writhing bodies moved on the dance floor, on the balcony, and in front of the bar. Thousands of teardrop-shaped crystals hung from the ceiling, reflecting the light and swaying with the music. It felt like I was underwater or in a cave.
I pushed, elbowed, and shoved my way to the bar, ignoring three inappropriate touches in the process. Scanning the shadows, I didn’t see Carmela anywhere. Just my luck, she was late.
“Excuse me!” I shouted, fighting to get the bartender’s attention. Technically, I shouldn’t order a drink. I was here for an interview, not a night of debauchery, but I needed something to settle my nerves. I made the mistake of answering a call from Kevin today, and he’d done his best to convince me to give him another shot. To my disgust, I briefly considered meeting him for dinner—then, I heard Ana’s voice in the background, and I lost my shit.
Waving my hand, I leaned forward, resting one elbow on the counter. “Hello?”
“Hey, beautiful. Let me help you out. What are you drinking tonight?” a deep voice rumbled next to my ear.
Eyes narrowed, I glanced to the side, ready to shoot down the offer. Then, I froze when my gaze landed on Michelangelo’s David in the flesh. Wavy dark hair neatly styled. A long, angular nose. Heavy-lidded, almond-shaped eyes. Sinful lips curled upward at the corners in a perpetual smirk. Expensive suit. Broad shoulders nearly twice the width of mine. Narrow waist. Thighs that…oh shit.
I lifted my head, meeting his topaz-colored eyes. The lopsided grin on his face told me my not so subtle perusal hadn’t escaped his attention. Jittering my ankle in circles, I licked my lips. His eyes locked on the motion like a predator zeroing in on his prey.
“No, thanks. I’m good,” I blurted out, desperate to end the encounter. Accepting a drink from him wouldn’t kill me—though after the fallout with Kevin, I’d sworn off men for the foreseeable future. I needed to get my career back on track and concentrate on my goals, and only then could I consider inviting another man into my life, even for one night.
“It’s only a drink. One drink.” He grinned, his eyes somehow managing to look like fire and ice at the same time. “Unless you want it to be more.”
My stomach jumped, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. “I’m sure you’re busy with whatever guys like you do in places like this.”
“No, I’m really not.” He chuckled, and the sound went straight to my heart like someone injected me with a shot of adrenaline.
“Maybe later.” I glanced over my shoulder, desperately looking for Carmela. “I’m waiting for someone.”
My phone buzzed in my purse. I flipped open the flap of my clutch and read the text.
Carmela: Something came up. I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t you dare leave before I get there.
I groaned.
“Did you change your mind about the drink?” the man pressed.
My shoulders slouched, and I sighed. “I’d love one.”
He rapped his knuckles on the counter, and the bartender magically appeared in front of us. “Marc, I’d like a Maker’s Mark on the rocks, and lady would like…?” He directed the full force of his attention to me, looking at me questioningly.
“The same,” I said weakly.
His eyebrows lifted. “A whiskey drinker, huh?”
“No.” I exhaled shakily. “But I could use something to take the edge off.”
He cocked one eyebrow. “Bad day?”
“More like a bad year.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” He bent to the side and said something to the man sitting next to me, who immediately vacated his seat.
“No.” I laughed. “And you don’t need to pretend you want to hear my sob story either.”
The bartender placed two lowball glasses on the bar top filled with a golden-tan liquid. I tossed back half of it in one giant gulp. Fire spread through my stomach, and the hair on my arms stood on end.
“Come on. I’m a good listener,” the man prodded. He swirled the brown liquid in his glass, revealing two tiny red buttons on the cuff of his white dress shirt.
“Are you serious?” I said, studying the sharp, yet appealing, angles of his face and the strong column of this throat. His dark hair nearly brushed the collar of his shirt. I folded my arms across my waist, battling the urge to reach out and touch it. This was not good. I couldn’t remember the last time a guy affected me like this. Despite all his practiced charm, Kevin never caused my heart to riot in my chest.