Chapter 1
Ava shielded her eyes.
“He did not just order an appletini.”
“James Bond likes
martinis.”
“He holds the fruit.”
Her friend probably thought she was picky but not every girl could
star in a hit interior design show and land a hot Aussie hunk for a
co-host then tame the bad-boy all the way to the altar like Victoria
had.
Sweeping Ava’s hand
away from her face Victoria argued, “Come on he’s cute.”
“At best he’s gay,
at worst he’s metro-sexual.” And God save Ava from them. Not that
she didn’t like a man who clipped his toenails, but when a man’s
grooming bordered on primping then he wasn’t the one for her. There
was something so fundamentally wrong about a man’s shoe budget
exceeding hers. And while it was perfectly normal to be jealous of a
woman’s walk-in closet or silky hair it was quite another when she
found herself competing with a man in those departments.
Ava liked a man who
rolled out of bed as sexy as he jumped in. No fuss and all muss.
With this thought in
mind she scanned Martini Madness, the hottest bar in New York City,
for possibilities. None. The typical Friday night crowd of stock
traders mixed in with young women who looked like future candidates
for a season of Real Housewives. She’d grown tired of the bar
scene. Only thirty she easily was the oldest female here, which made
her feel ancient.
But here she sat
because her happily married friend under the guise of needing a
girls’ night out was trying to hook Ava up with her own happy ever
after. She’d settle for happy-from-great-sex-after.
At that moment a 6’3”,
blonde, with a yet to be determined eye color, but definitely
handsome male approached the bar with a commanding stride. Ava
doubted the crowd was aware of how they parted to let him through.
His tight jeans looked
worn from hard work and not from a two hundred dollar price tag. The
blue button down shirt was probably his attempt to dress up. The
shaggy but clean hair and gruff beard reminded her of a golden
retriever.
Ava’s fingers itched
to rub his belly.
She couldn’t hear him
order over the noise, but with her gaze now concentrated on his mouth
she read his lips that were full enough not to get lost behind the
facial hair.
Black Label Scotch.
Clearly a man’s man.
As he sipped from the
glass she pictured bringing her naked breast to those lips, imagined
the warmth of his breath, the tickle of his beard, and the numbing
effect of the scotch on her nipple. Suddenly parched she downed her
appletini, but it did nothing to quench the rising thirst for his
kiss.
“Wowsa,” said
Victoria. “He’s a fine specimen.”
Ava agreed. He looked
out of place among the suits. Women dressed in short skirts and high
heels eyed him like he was a new shiny bauble to play with. “I
should go save him.”
“Oh yeah, give him
some mouth-to-mouth,” Victoria cheered on.
Ava smiled. “Go home
to your handsome hubby and baby girl.”
“I’ll finish my
drink and watch the fireworks.”
Ava slipped from the
stool and slid next to her target. “You know this is a martini
bar?” She held up her empty glass. Despite the number of people
waiting for drinks, he only had to nod at the bartender to order her
a refill.
His gaze then captured
hers. “I’m a rebel.”
Ethereal green. That
was the only way to describe his eyes. Almost lost in the depth of
his stare she forced herself to speak. “So you’re looking for a
girl who can belt back a scotch?”
A smile appeared on his
face. “That would be asking too much. I’d settle for a girl who
liked a cold beer.”
“Wine?”
Still smiling he shook
his head. “High maintenance.”
“You came to the
wrong place then.”
He handed her the drink
and said, “From where I’m standing I’m in exactly the right
place.”
His gaze not only
undressed her but made love to her. In his expression she read every
touch he’d bestow, how he would kiss her long and slow, and
witnessed their
Ava shielded her eyes.
“He did not just order an appletini.”
“James Bond likes
martinis.”
“He holds the fruit.”
Her friend probably thought she was picky but not every girl could
star in a hit interior design show and land a hot Aussie hunk for a
co-host then tame the bad-boy all the way to the altar like Victoria
had.
Sweeping Ava’s hand
away from her face Victoria argued, “Come on he’s cute.”
“At best he’s gay,
at worst he’s metro-sexual.” And God save Ava from them. Not that
she didn’t like a man who clipped his toenails, but when a man’s
grooming bordered on primping then he wasn’t the one for her. There
was something so fundamentally wrong about a man’s shoe budget
exceeding hers. And while it was perfectly normal to be jealous of a
woman’s walk-in closet or silky hair it was quite another when she
found herself competing with a man in those departments.
Ava liked a man who
rolled out of bed as sexy as he jumped in. No fuss and all muss.
With this thought in
mind she scanned Martini Madness, the hottest bar in New York City,
for possibilities. None. The typical Friday night crowd of stock
traders mixed in with young women who looked like future candidates
for a season of Real Housewives. She’d grown tired of the bar
scene. Only thirty she easily was the oldest female here, which made
her feel ancient.
But here she sat
because her happily married friend under the guise of needing a
girls’ night out was trying to hook Ava up with her own happy ever
after. She’d settle for happy-from-great-sex-after.
At that moment a 6’3”,
blonde, with a yet to be determined eye color, but definitely
handsome male approached the bar with a commanding stride. Ava
doubted the crowd was aware of how they parted to let him through.
His tight jeans looked
worn from hard work and not from a two hundred dollar price tag. The
blue button down shirt was probably his attempt to dress up. The
shaggy but clean hair and gruff beard reminded her of a golden
retriever.
Ava’s fingers itched
to rub his belly.
She couldn’t hear him
order over the noise, but with her gaze now concentrated on his mouth
she read his lips that were full enough not to get lost behind the
facial hair.
Black Label Scotch.
Clearly a man’s man.
As he sipped from the
glass she pictured bringing her naked breast to those lips, imagined
the warmth of his breath, the tickle of his beard, and the numbing
effect of the scotch on her nipple. Suddenly parched she downed her
appletini, but it did nothing to quench the rising thirst for his
kiss.
“Wowsa,” said
Victoria. “He’s a fine specimen.”
Ava agreed. He looked
out of place among the suits. Women dressed in short skirts and high
heels eyed him like he was a new shiny bauble to play with. “I
should go save him.”
“Oh yeah, give him
some mouth-to-mouth,” Victoria cheered on.
Ava smiled. “Go home
to your handsome hubby and baby girl.”
“I’ll finish my
drink and watch the fireworks.”
Ava slipped from the
stool and slid next to her target. “You know this is a martini
bar?” She held up her empty glass. Despite the number of people
waiting for drinks, he only had to nod at the bartender to order her
a refill.
His gaze then captured
hers. “I’m a rebel.”
Ethereal green. That
was the only way to describe his eyes. Almost lost in the depth of
his stare she forced herself to speak. “So you’re looking for a
girl who can belt back a scotch?”
A smile appeared on his
face. “That would be asking too much. I’d settle for a girl who
liked a cold beer.”
“Wine?”
Still smiling he shook
his head. “High maintenance.”
“You came to the
wrong place then.”
He handed her the drink
and said, “From where I’m standing I’m in exactly the right
place.”
His gaze not only
undressed her but made love to her. In his expression she read every
touch he’d bestow, how he would kiss her long and slow, and
witnessed their
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