Phoenix Rising(7)
“ID? Are you serious?”
It had been long years since someone had carded Jessa for anything. It should’ve been flattering. But in order to grab her ID, she was going to have to open her purse. And stuffed inside that rather large handbag was a plain white bag emblazoned with the words Accessories and More. She did not care to show him what kind of items she’d been shopping for recently.
“Am I serious?” His voice slid an octave. It turned from gravel to velvet in no more than one breath. A wry smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, turning his lips from thin to generous. The effect was amazing. He went from unforgiving to basely sexual in three words.
Her mouth went dry and her brain scrambled to regain control. It was all about control. Control, and how she couldn’t seem to keep a grip on it.
She became abruptly aware of his scent. Previously lingering below her radar, a swiftly indrawn breath brought the spicy masculine aroma tinged with sandalwood soap to her attention. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
His big hand lifted, thumbing at a sign hanging on the cage denying entrance to anyone underage. Jessa wavered. It was one thing to thumb her nose at convention and enter the bar. Somehow, it seemed more damning to pull out her wallet and flash her ID.
Deciding it would be worse to run with her tail between her legs, she slid one hand into the bag and rooted around for her wallet. It was tricky to get the wallet free without pulling anything else out. Jessa half expected he knew what she was up to. But nobody mentioned it, and acute relief washed over her when she handed him her driver’s license.
He looked it over and then lifted his black eyes. “Enjoy yourself, Jessa.”
It was impossible not to watch his lips form her name. Jessa. The slide and play turned them soft and pliant. She had the insane urge to suck his full lower lip into her mouth, lick its surface, and kiss him until she was out of breath.
She briefly wondered if she’d gone insane when a dizzying spurt of molten silk between her legs caught her by surprise. A tiny gasp escaped before she could choke it back. He smiled. He knew what he’d done with his voice. His eyes said as much.
She snatched her ID from his hand and stuffed the wallet back inside her purse. Looking everywhere else but at him, she headed for the bar.
It was no time to slump back against the bar and fan herself like some hormonal teen, though that’s exactly what Jessa felt like doing. Instead, she scraped up some self-respect and pretended everything was fine. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had ample practice doing that over the last nineteen years.
“What can I get for you?”
It didn’t take Jessa long to decide. She was already so far outside the parameters of normal, she had nothing left to lose. “An Irish car bomb.”
The bartender’s left eyebrow arched high, and he chuckled. “A lady with taste.”
There was a moment to collect her thoughts while she waited for the drink. It was hard to believe her life had been utterly unexciting less than twelve hours ago. Only that morning, she’d gotten up with the alarm clock, fixed breakfast for herself, and hurried off to help plan a charity dinner auction. How was it possible to go from charity housewife to chic-in-a-bar carrying porn-in-a-bag in less than one day?
The facts were obvious. Will left for Ginny. Not really a big surprise. Jessa was okay with that. They were getting a divorce after nineteen years of marriage. She was okay with that, too. But everything else definitely fell under the heading of not okay.
Women like Jessa didn’t ask explicit questions. They didn’t dwell on inappropriate behavior and lewd conduct. She shouldn’t have gone into a store like Accessories and More. And she had no business sitting at a bar drinking car bombs in the middle of the day.
Or was all that just a cop out? Deep down, if she were brutally honest, Jessa knew she’d see things differently. Thoughts of rebellion had littered her entire married life. But Jessa had always been one to sit and stew about it, hoard her rebellious desires and examine them privately behind closed doors. Now, it was almost as if the situation with Will had ripped her inhibitions away and dragged her into the open.
Jessa wasn’t entirely certain she was comfortable with that.
The arrival of her drink interrupted her self-recrimination. “One Irish car bomb,” the blue-eyed bartender said with a wink. “If you manage to drink that properly, I’ll give you two more for free.”
A challenge? It had been years since Jessa had spent time in a bar, before Will, before marriage, before she’d settled down and become a grown up. Jessa lifted first the Guinness, then the shot glass, and sniffed. The complex combination was deep, dark, with a hint of sweetness. A lot like the man at the door.