Linebacker’s Second Chance(113)
“Hardly,” Sandra says. “That firm of yours isn’t exactly the most progressive. It’s amazing that they hired you. Must be trying to reach out so that they can look a little more 21st century.” She takes a long sip. “You ready for another drink?” Sandra grins. “I want to get a better look at this admirer of yours.”
“Sure, sounds good. He's not bad at all!” I say. “See what you can find out.” I smirk back at her.
“A fresh Cosmo is on its way!” She stands up then leans in and stage-whispers, “Along with a full report!”
“Perfect.” I lean back and adjust my hair a bit. Even if I don't plan on anything lasting, I still want to look my best when I go in for the kill with lover boy over there. I sneak another peek at him. He's still got his eyes trained on me from across the room, his burning gaze leveling me. I risk a little smile at him. I don't want him to come over just yet, but I'd be happy to have him know I noticed him.
His face breaks into its own sly, crooked smile, and then he looks away casually. Sandra's just walked up and is standing near him. They're chatting a little, and lover boy runs his hand through his hair, giving me a nice view of his bicep as he does. Tasty as all get out, this man. Where did he get a body like that? I’ve never seen anything like it. And, the tattoos that peek out from under his sleeves are tempting me to see more of that body.
Sandra comes rushing back to the table, a couple of drinks in her hand. “Ok,” she says quickly, “he's even better up close. I think he must be some kind of athlete the way he was talking to the bartender about the game, and those muscles. But he did put our drinks on his tab. So here you go!” She's triumphant. “Just remember, if you go for this guy, it's short-term only! If you don’t listen to me at any other time, listen to that. You need a lawyer, toilet paper roll arguments notwithstanding.”
“Ha!” I grin. “Fair enough. This night is just for me, and I'm going to celebrate. If he wants to be a part of it, all the better. And we all know which part!” We laugh, and I sip the sweetness of the Cosmopolitan, tipping it slightly to lover boy afterward in thanks. He smiles again, and the butterflies take flight in my chest. Damn, he's even hotter when he smiles.
“Speaking of your night, I'm not even sure if I should ask this,” Sandra says, her face twisting a little. “Did your folks call, or send you congratulations about your new position?”
“Ugh, not at all.” My mood darkens. “I'm so over them, I swear. I'm not counting on their approval for anything anymore.”
“Odell, I'm sorry I brought it up,” she says, chastened. “I was just hoping there was going to be some good news for once.”
“That's ok, don't worry about it.” A song I like comes on the jukebox, and I need to get out of this sudden dark mood if this is going to be the night to remember that I need it to be. “You want to dance?”
“Yes! Perfect!”
Moving to the smallish wooden dance floor, we leave our drinks at the table and I let the mood of the music carry me away. I love dancing. It's one thing my parents couldn't ruin for me, though they’ve tried since I was a little girl. Of course they had dreams—or even expectations—that along with everything else, I would become a ballerina. But, once I turned eleven, my breasts and butt grew too big for that. I just didn't have that thin willowy body that you need to be really successful in ballet, and I wasn’t willing to starve myself and eat only an apple a day for the rest of my career. I was just too curvy. My folks pushed me to practice anyway, but I didn't mind that as much as I always loved feeling free in the studio. Even though during the recitals as the other kids were able to pick out their parents’ faces, all I would see was my nanny standing at the back looking at her phone.
“Ok, Odell,” my mother would say as the nanny would take me by the hand and lead me to the car in my little ballet slippers. “Say bye to mama.”
I'd wave “bye bye,” but she would barely look up from her Chardonnay and legal documents, always working. I close my eyes and let that worrying image fade just as I used to in the studio, letting the music take me over and move me with its rhythms. Before long I feel someone in front of me, and I open one eye. It's the guy from the bar, and my stomach does a little flip before I recover and smile. Sandra's right. He is even better up close with those piercing blue eyes, rugged jaw with just the right amount of stubble, and lips that look very kissable.
Despite his large stature and amazing musculature, he's good on the dance floor—moving smoothly like a man who understands rhythm. That's what I need right now, I think, as he smiles a sexy smirk at me. He complements my movements, and we begin to dance together as Sandra turns to another dude who's joined the dance floor as well. I hope lover boy doesn't think I'm going to grind with him. I may be out to party but I don't want to party that hard. He doesn't make any moves like that, so I relax and we get a little closer, closer, until I can almost feel his breath on my neck.