Phoenix Burning(7)
He paused, looking up and catching her eyes. Mischief hid behind her chocolate gaze, and Alex began to get the distinct impression that she was toying with him in some fashion.
Emory watched him pour Mandarin vodka, Bailey’s, spiced rum, and Cuervo Gold into a shot glass. She reached for it as he set it down on the bar, and their fingers brushed lightly. She snatched her hand back, stunned by the brief jolt of electricity and heat.
Every nerve inside her body came alive. A tingle snaked along her spine, sending a thrill straight to her crotch. Emory squeezed her legs together against the sudden onslaught of arousal. She’d never experienced anything like it. Ever. She craved physical contact, but her emotional fragility made it almost impossible. Sucking in a deep breath, she waited for the familiar anxiety to overwhelm her senses. It had always come in the past; hit her like a freight train with a wave of nausea and terror she couldn’t master.
She waited the span of two breaths, until the gorgeous man behind the bar tilted his head and slanted her a curious stare, but nothing happened. The slow burn of attraction grew, and Emory felt hope for the first time in forever. Basking in the unfamiliar sense of calm, she took a longer look at the bartender.
Somehow the word “sexy” just wasn’t enough to cover this particular male specimen. A shade over six feet, his lean, muscular body looked as though a master had sculpted every line. Tousled blond curls brushed his forehead, and his eyes were brilliant blue, but it was the smile that sent chills racing down her spine. Well, whenever he let it go full force, anyway. The rest of the time he seemed almost surly.
She picked up the shot and inhaled. Complex mixtures of citrus, spice, and the bitterness of tequila washed over her senses. Knocking it back, she let the taste wash over her tongue and down her throat before flipping the shot glass over and setting it with the others.
Her vision swam briefly, and the warm tingle sliding down her spine indicated a nice buzz. “I could probably pass out right now and sleep like a baby. Promise not to dump me outside on the street if I do?”
“Don’t worry, that isn’t my usual policy.” He lightly grabbed a highball glass in one strong hand, setting it before him without a word. The twin black rings on his middle fingers glinted in the overhead lights. She wondered what they meant, if they meant anything at all. Emory hadn’t been intrigued at all by either of the bouncers, but this bartender was another story. Not only was he hot, she could’ve listened all night long to the light British accent coating his words.
In her experience, bartenders were either surly or friendly natured. Most could at least pretend to be nice. They lived off tips, after all. But this guy was literally hot and cold in the same breath. It was almost as if he was beginning to like her against his better judgment or something. Of course, she shouldn’t have cared what he thought. She was there to find a random guy, someone a little less—everything. Hopefully she was buzzed enough for an experiment in casual sex.
“You know,” Emory began conversationally. “I don’t usually drink with men I don’t know.”
He filled the highball glass with ice, a smile tugging at a corner of his generous mouth. “Guess your mama raised you right.”
“If that were true I wouldn’t be in a bar drinking shots.” Why had he said that? She didn’t want to think about her mother. That made her think of her father. And that’s whom she was here to forget for good. Not even her buzz could sweeten those memories.
He filled the highball with water and topped it off with a slice of lemon.
She needed a way to get back the calm he’d given her just a moment ago. “So what’s your name?”
His blue gaze lifted, meeting hers with measured intensity. “Alex Dalesio.”
“I’m Emory. It’s nice to meet you, Alex.”
He set the water on the bar before her, his full lips thinning into a line. Awareness trickled down Emory’s spine, lifting the hairs on the back of her neck and bringing her body vividly awake for reasons she didn’t understand. Why was she so fascinated by him?
He turned away after getting the water, heading to the other end of the bar to help the customers who’d started pouring through the front door. It was as if he’d taken the sun with him.
Why was he playing at hot and cold? What purpose lay behind his actions, if there was one at all? Was he messing with her, teasing her? Or was it an unintentional response to the strange electricity flowing between the two of them? Regardless of the weird dynamic she seemed to have with Alex, Emory had to admit that it made her hopeful that she would have success with her little experiment. If she could tolerate an attraction to Alex, maybe finding some other stranger would help her finally put aside the baggage she’d been toting around since childhood.