Hot Commodity(4)

From her standpoint, he appeared too good to be true. Dreamy men like this just weren’t available. They—oh, hell. He was probably married, or at least taken.

Coming up directly behind him, Olivia glanced around his shoulder as he picked up his glass to swallow yet another shot. Must be a lefty, she mused as he lifted the glass with his left hand—his left hand that was completely bare of rings.

She continued to stare as he set the empty cup down. She was left-handed. He was left-handed. She figured it was a sign.

This was her guy.

Now, how did one go about asking a total stranger to marry you? "Hey, will you marry me?" sounded about as straightforward as she could imagine. So, before she could lose her nerve, Olivia tapped him on the shoulder.

He was slow to turn, but when he did, he looked at her with a set of

penetrating dark green eyes that made her swallow.

"I take your chair?" he said, slurring his words a little.

She blinked. Huh?

It took her a moment to realize he was asking a question. "Oh! No," she answered, glancing toward the bar stools on either side of him. Even if he had taken her seat, she could’ve settled for any of the ten free stools surrounding him.

"Want a drink?" he asked next.

"Um, sure," Olivia answered. Why not? Yes, a drink would help segue her into a proposal.

He motioned to the stool at his left. "Grab a seat."

So far, so good.

She gingerly seated herself, noticing he wore a nice-smelling yet subtle cologne as she brushed by. Another plus.

"What’ll you have?" he asked as he swept out an arm to display the vast array of liquor displayed along the wall in front of them.

"Well…" Olivia licked her lips and glanced at all the drinks. "A Mountain Dew with a cherry in it sounds wonderful."

The man gave her a funny look. Then he turned to the bartender and grinned. "Give her a bourbon and coke." He tapped his drained glass against the countertop before adding, "And I’ll have another one of these."

The bartender nodded and Olivia’s prospective husband turned back to her.

He set his elbows on the countertop as if he were ready to chat. "So, what’s up?" he asked, as if she were some friend he’d had for years, and they were getting together for their weekly gossip session. It was strange how personable he acted.

Olivia folded her hands and set them lightly on the edge of the bar. She stared at them as she opened her mouth and tried to say, "Will you marry me?" but the words wouldn’t come. Finally, she bolstered herself and blurted out, "I have to get married."

He studied her for a moment and then dropped his eyes, only to lift them a moment later. "When’s it due?"

Olivia blinked a few times. "When is what due?"

"The baby."

Frowning, she shook her head. "Whose baby?"

Their drinks arrived. The guy paused to chug his shot. He set the glass down and sighed in satisfaction. Then he turned back to Olivia, picking up their conversation where they’d left off. "Your baby."

She floundered. "I don’t have a baby."

"You’re not pregnant?" he asked, looking utterly confused.

Olivia threw him a dirty look. "No!" She had to glance down at her skin-tight bustier to make sure no fat rolls bulged out. But her belly was as flat as ever.

The man also glanced at her bare stomach. He lifted his eyes. "Then why do you have to get married?"

Her shoulders slumped. "Oh," she said in relief. Thank God he wasn’t calling her big. She’d been about ready to give Mr. Green Eyes a black and blue one. Olivia wore a size four, and she worked hard for it. She wasn’t about to let anyone call her chunky. She smiled. "To escape my mother."

The guy shook a finger at her in a drunken manner. "Well, what do y’know. That was my second guess. Actually, I was going to say father. But a mother will do jus’ as good."

He picked up his drink and realized the glass was empty. Frowning at it, he promptly waved the bartender over for more.

Growing anxiously impatient, Olivia said, "Well?"

Green Eyes glanced curiously at her. "Well, what?"

She sighed. "Will you marry me or not?"

His back pulled straight as he sat up fully and his eyes opened wide. "You want me to marry you?"

Olivia nodded, then looked around the room one last time, checking for any better prospects.

"I’m not exactly—" he paused to hiccup—"marriage material. I mean, I’m drunk. And I-I’m not so sober. And I also—holy mother of God!"

Olivia jerked her head up at his outburst, but he wasn’t looking at her. Or rather, he wasn’t looking at her face. His eyes were popped even wider than before as he gaped at her exposed cleavage as if he were just now realizing what she wore. His stare slipped down her body. Olivia felt a spurt of heat at his entranced gaze.