Pure Wicked: A Wicked Lovers Novella (1001 Dark Nights) (17 page)

He didn’t once look her way. Somehow, she’d hoped their stares would lock. He would approach her, want her, and whisk her away for a spectacular night of unbridled sex that would blow away both her panties and her mind. That had been another one of her fantasies. Right now, he clearly had no idea she existed.

On shaky knees, she stood again and headed in his direction. She tried not to stare. A glance up at the television proved he watched a recap of a pro basketball game. With a grunt, he glanced down into the neck of his beer bottle as she slid onto the empty stool beside him.

Now that he was so near, Mystery could feel his body heat, smell him—rugged earth, cut wood, musk. Damn, being this close made her feel both safe and weak.

“Something on your mind?” He turned to her, his stare expectant.

She searched his expression and didn’t see a hint of recognition on his large, blunt face. What a relief. But the cleft in his chin and his bright blue eyes still made her feel weak and wanting. That instant chemical attraction she’d felt years ago hadn’t waned in the least.

“There is.” She mimicked the British accents she’d been surrounded with since she’d fled the U.S.—and him—over six years ago.

Her assertion obviously surprised him. Though he narrowed his eyes, they pierced her.

“I’ll bite. Lay it on me.”

The bartender chose that moment to come around and plunk a napkin in front of her. “Now that you found a seat, you want a drink?”

A glass of vino sounded heavenly. “Do you have a wine list, please?”

He snorted. “No. I got three types: red, white, and pink.”

Mystery paused. She hadn’t expected anything private label, but surely more of a selection than that.

“Is the white a pinot grigio?”

The bartender looked as if he was losing patience. “I don’t know what kind that is, but the jug of white I have is as close as I’ve got. You want some or not?”

That could be seriously terrible booze. She’d been willing to give up designer for the night and leave her Tiffany baubles at her hotel, but she’d spew if she drank the equivalent of Boone’s Farm.

“Then I’ll have a glass of water, please.” Better to keep a clear head, anyway. “Thank you.”

As he turned and grabbed a glass, the bartender shook his head and muttered something to himself. Mystery really didn’t want to know what.

“I’m not sure what threw him off more, your accent or your request.” The corner of Axel’s mouth lifted in amusement, giving her a flash of dimples.

She’d forgotten the way his smile could soften his harsh face. She grinned back. “He seemed quite ruffled.”

A moment later, the young, pierced guy set a glass in front of her with lots of ice and a bit of water, sans lemon. She blinked, and her colored contacts jabbed her eyes with a reminder of their existence. Or maybe it was a warning that her plan would likely fail spectacularly.

“So do you,” Axel said. “I won’t point out that I’ve never seen you here, but I’ll guess you’ve never been to a place like this.”

“Never,” she admitted. “What gave me away?”

He chuffed. “Leaving the door open so you could gape with barely disguised horror was a start. I particularly liked the way you turned slightly green when you stared at the guys about to do to body shots with Trina.” He nodded to the corner where the bearded men and the woman in the halter top all laughed. “So why are you here?”

She’d forgotten how observant he could be and how accurately he could draw conclusions. He did it in an instant, as if nothing in the world shocked him anymore. The world still shocked her all the time.

She hadn’t, however, forgotten how direct he was.

“Curious,” she lied and held in a wince at her lame answer.

He shrugged. “Let me try another way: The place is more than half empty, so why did you sit next to me?”

Brutally direct,
she mentally corrected.

Mystery gaped for an answer. “Why not?”

In retrospect, she could have been a little less obvious and a little more coy in choosing a seat. Maybe she should have sat a few stools away, ordered some terrible wine, and seen if he’d struck up a conversation. But she’d taken one look at him, and any thought of careful or logical had flown out the window.

He leveled her with a disbelieving stare. “That’s all you’ve got? You couldn’t even have come up with a good lie?”

Not really. She could have gone the “You look familiar” route, but that would have been too close to the truth. As far as she could see, that only left her one tactic.

“You’re very attractive. Pardon me for being interested.”

A little smile lit up his eyes before he took another swig of beer. “I didn’t say you being close upset me. You’re attractive yourself.” He stared a moment longer, then glanced down at his empty beer before he shifted his attention to her untouched glass. “You sure I can’t get you something stronger to drink? I can’t believe a girl like you would risk life and limb to come to this dive for a swig of water.”

Truth was, drinking didn’t hold a lot of appeal for her. In the past, she pretended otherwise, but . . . “While I appreciate the offer, I’m actually not interested in alcohol.” She forced herself to meet his inquisitive stare. “Would you like to find somewhere more private to . . .”

“Talk?” He gave her an ironic curl of his lips.

“No.” She sucked in a shaking breath. “To fuck. Would you be interested?”

On behalf of 1001 Dark Nights,

Liz Berry and M.J. Rose would like to thank ~

Steve Berry

Doug Scofield

Kim Guidroz

Jillian Stein

InkSlinger PR

Dan Slater

Asha Hossain

Chris Graham