Slap Shot(3)

That wasn’t what I’d meant, I liked men plenty. Cock over pussy every time, when I wasn’t celibate that was. But I didn’t tell him that. Instead I tipped my head, lifted my brows and waited for him to go on.

“A beautiful woman like you,” he said. “It would be a crime to mankind if you didn’t share your elegant…” He paused and scanned my body again, from the toes of my pointed high heels right back to my chest, covered demurely in a cream silk blouse with the tiniest red polka dots. “It would be a crime if you didn’t share your delectable body with an appreciative, willing, experienced man.”

“Then you’re only interested in me for my body?”

“Hell, no.” His mouth stretched into an infectious grin. “Well, maybe there’s a little bit of interest from certain parts of my anatomy.”

I smiled back up at him, it was impossible not to, and wondered why my heart was hammering in my chest. Why my breathing was quick and shallow. His delicious thick scent enveloped me again and the music had dulled into the background. “Thanks for your honesty,” I managed, my fingers tightening on my glass. “It’s a refreshing change.”

“I’m an honest guy.” He tugged his bottom lip with his teeth, stretching the small soul patch in the cleft of his chin.

I sipped my drink and tried to play it cool. I’d been right to be cautious earlier, Rick was a dangerous guy for the new Dana. Old Dana would have dragged him into the nearest closet and banged him senseless—he was definitely old Dana’s type. Tall, dark and devastatingly handsome, with chiseled cheekbones and a soft, sensuous mouth. Not to mention the sin smoldering in his brown eyes—bad, greedy, but oh, such delicious sin. Yes, he was definitely someone to avoid if I was going to stick to my life plan.

“If you don’t believe I’m an honest guy then get to know me,” he said with a shrug. “How about dinner tomorrow night?”

“Sorry, no can do.” I resisted adding because there was no way I would give old Dana a chance at him. It would get messy, dirty, sweaty and naked real quick.

“Then lunch, or a coffee. A movie maybe, I bet you like the movies.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not you. I’m just not dating at the moment.”

“Why, you had a recent breakup?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He shrugged and raised his beer to his lips. “Guy is either a complete jerk or drowning his sorrows somewhere because he knows he’ll never have a stunner like you again.” He shook his head. “Poor sucker, if he wasn’t competition I’d almost feel sorry for him.”

“No breakup,” I said, draining my glass. “I’m just busy with my work. It takes up all my time.”

“So I shouldn’t be hugely affronted at the rejection?”

“No, definitely not, and I’m sure there are plenty of women who would bite your hand off for a date.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but the trouble is the only woman I want to bite me is you.”

I swept my tongue over my bottom lip. The thought of tasting him, biting him, was just too damn powerful to ignore. I dragged in a breath and braced my shoulders. Set my face to business mode. “It was nice chatting but please excuse me, I have final details of the evening to sort out.” I reached over the bar and grabbed my clipboard, all the time aware of his gaze drinking up my every move. It was as though he was a starving man feasting on my curves. In normal circumstances it would have been irritating but there was something about him, despite his terrible pick-up lines, that appealed to a very base, very carnal level of my soul.

“Don’t forget the Cristal, Jay,” I reminded the barman as he glanced my way. “In ten minutes, to go with the fireworks out front.”

“Already on the case, boss,” he said with a grin and a wink. He flipped the lid off a bottle of beer and handed it to a hulking blond guy who nodded in Rick’s direction.

“I’ll see you later then, for that dance,” Rick said, turning back to me after acknowledging the nod.

I stood and my eye line came level with the cream flower in his lapel. “I’m afraid I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“Ah.” His face lit. “So you do admit it would be pleasurable to dance with me?”

I looked up. His eyes glinted like great vats of thick chocolate. He was too tempting and too damn sharp by far and that damn Fuzzy Navel had messed with my cool, calm, collected thought processes.

I had to get out of there.

“Dancing is pleasurable, yes,” I said, moving away. “Though whether or not it would be pleasurable with you I will never know. Good night, Mr. Lewis.” I stepped from the bar, needing space and air. Wound through guests watching the newlyweds dance and made it out into the starkly lit, cool corridors of the hotel.