Nights With Him(5)

Look! You’re on the list! Sex-toy mogul Jack Sullivan tops this year’s list of the city’s most eligible bachelors in business. Don’t you think he needs a new woman to mend his broken heart? Makes you just want to nab that man even more.

He rolled his eyes, and replied, The depth of their insight never fails to astound me.

He turned the damn thing to silent. He could do without the reminders tonight. Reminders of anything. Of the woman he’d lost, of the fascination the gossip rags seemed to have with his dating or non-dating status—as the case had been for the last year—and of the claws some women wanted to sink into him, thanks to the growth trajectory Joy Delivered had been on. While at dinner with Casey last week, he’d been propositioned by a young woman who’d said she was on the hunt for an eligible bachelor businessman.

Call him old-fashioned, but the next time he got involved, he’d like it to be with someone who actually gave a shit about him, rather than what he did for a living, the company he ran, or his prior love life.

Or with the absolutely stunning brunette who was walking past him and—hello, lucky stars—was now sitting at the other end of the bar. The same one who’d caught his eye when she’d stepped into the elevator earlier in the evening. Her hair was in a twist that showed off her neck. She had a fantastic pair of legs, strong and muscular, a nice trim waist, and she was rocking some kind of buttoned-up-on-the outside vibe with her blouse and pencil skirt that made him wonder if she was buttoned up on the inside too.

* * *

Michelle hadn’t been expecting the barrage of questions, but what an eager bunch of counselors she’d encountered after her talk. She’d never felt so popular ‘til tonight, when she was nearly mobbed by fellow psychotherapists as she attempted to walk away from the lectern. They fired off questions for her on treatment and guidance for love and sex addicts, and she happily answered all of them to the best of her ability. Then she gathered up her notes, and made her way down to the lobby. She adjusted her purse strap, and sighed deeply, pleased with her work for the evening. Sharing insights and learning was a true passion of hers, and she’d had the opportunity to do so tonight with colleagues.

Tonight. The word reverberated through her, and she felt the slightest pang when she stepped off the elevator and remembered it was a Thursday. She and Clay had often had drinks on a Thursday night. While they still did from time to time, along with her brother, Davis, the get-togethers had been curtailed since Julia moved in with him. Understandable; the man was committed, and now he was married. Julia hadn’t cut them off; in fact, the redhead was lovely, and Michelle had visited Julia’s bar a few times. But it was simply too hard for Michelle to see them together that often, so she’d kept them in her life, but put herself on a restricted Clay-and-Julia diet.

Keeping a distance was a necessity, but she missed those Thursday nights. And she missed the drinks, truth be told. She could certainly go for a little nightcap to finish off the day. She’d always been comfortable in her own skin and with her own company, so a quick solo stop at the bar was no big deal.

She followed the music and sat down at the tall, sleek metal bar, ordering a vodka tonic that arrived quickly, and taking out her iPad. There was a new Tumblr feed she wanted to peruse, but that would only happen from the privacy of home and bed since it was a terribly naughty one. She had an article she wanted to finish, and then a novel to dive into about a con artist, and she’d even downloaded a new app for practicing Spanish phrases, partly because the male voice on the app was so deliciously sexy. Perhaps better to listen to that in her apartment, she reasoned, as she lifted the cool glass to her lips and took the first sip. Raising her eyes, she noticed that same man she’d seen earlier. He was seated at the end of the bar, drinking what looked to be a vodka tonic too. The glass hit his lips at the exact same moment, his moves mirroring hers. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle, a hint of wicked delight in them.

Same drink, same time, same absolutely smoking-hot guy she’d spotted an hour before. One barstool away. When she set the glass down, she said, “Jinx.”

“Jinx,” he repeated.

“Does that mean you owe me a drink?” she asked, and then nearly clasped her hand over her mouth. But instead, she went with it. “Sorry, that’s pretty much close to the cheesiest pick-up line ever.”

His lips curved slightly into a grin. “Does that mean you’re trying to pick me up?”

She laughed, and shook her head. The silvery metal surface of the bar revealed a rush of red racing to her cheeks as she answered. “No.”