Page 2 of Dangerously Tempting

“You can keep that,” I say as he goes to put the pen back into the cup with the others. He nods, clicking it closed and then tucking it into the pocket of his shirt.

“Is she still looking?” he asks, and I’m sure it takes all his self-control not to turn and look for her himself.

“To the extent I’m not sure her eyes have any moisture left,” I respond with another forced, professional smile.

“Shit,” he grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I tilt my head to the left. “Go that way, about six tables down. There’s a door that’s labeled a fire escape but the alarm is disarmed; that’s how we got all our stuff in here. You’ll be at the back of the building but it’s right off the main street so you can flag down a cab and make your escape.”

A grin stretches across his face and for a moment I can’t think. A single dimple reveals itself on the left side of his mouth and the golden retriever energy that, that one grin displays, somehow makes him even more attractive. He plucks the pen back out of his pocket and leans back down to scribble something else on the packet before sliding it across the table to me and returning the pen to its new home.

“I owe you one. Seriously,” he mumbles, his eyes flaring with something that I can’t really decipher. “Whatever you want. Thank you.”

Before I can ask what he means, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. I catch a glimpse of his tight ass as he turns to go and I kind of understand why blondie’s eyes won’t move from him. He’s a freaking work of art.

I look down at the packet resting on the table and bite my lower lip. Scribbled across the bottom of the page is a phone number.

Playlist: "Bring Me To Life," Evanescence

Once everything is put away and loaded into the back of my car, I can’t help but think of the number Mr. Green Eyes left. Should I actually use it? Would that be crossing the line?

I’m headed back home tomorrow morning, so it’s not like anything big can come from this anyways. For all I know he’s from the other side of the country and I’ll never see his face again. All the more reason to take a chance, even if it doesn’t lead to getting hot and heavy between the sheets with him.

I’m talking a big game in my head like I’m brave enough to even go there. I’ve never had a one night stand, but I’ve also never been so immediately drawn to someone like I was with him. All of my sexual interactions have been after getting to know someone pretty well, so I don’t even know if a onetime thing is in my arsenal. Not that knowing someone before I let them bed me has done me much good. My current single status is a testament to how well that’s been working for me.

Besides, he might not even have any interest in that. I helped rescue him from a stage 5 clinger that doesn’t know how to take no for goodness sake. He probably has no interest in pursuing anything at all with a woman for a long time to come. Somehow that thought alone is enough to have me going for it.

I pull my phone out and grab the packet from the passenger seat where I left it when I loaded up the car. I open my text app and enter his number before I hesitate. I don’t even know his name, and he doesn’t know mine. Will he even remember me? Does he expect me not to use it? Was leaving it just a formality to make his thank you clear?

I pull in a breath between my teeth and type out a text and hit send before I can change my mind. My phone pings with his reply almost instantly and the butterflies that fill my stomach are quite honestly… embarrassing.

Me: Ready to pay up on that favor?

Him: I’m so glad you reached out. I was worried you wouldn’t.

Him: What would you like as your reward?

Me: It’s been a really long day. Drinks?

Him: Of course! Do you want to meet at your hotel?

Me: That really sounds like something a serial killer would ask.

Him: lol I promise I’m not. Come to mine if that makes you more comfortable. I’m at the Hilton, off First.

Him: I’ll be at the bar next to the lobby. I owe you several drinks.

Me: Omw

I send the response before I can think too much about it. It’s just drinks, not a commitment. And if we’re in a public space I know he’s not a sexy serial killer trying to lure me to a quiet place to off me. Not that I think he is one. He obviously wouldn’t have needed anyone’s help with blondie if that were the case. Unless it was all a setup?

I’ve got to stop overthinking this. It’s drinks. Nothing more, nothing less, and I already told him I was on the way. It’s simply a coincidence that we’re in the same hotel, not a death sentence.

By the time I pull into the hotel’s parking lot, I’ve talked myself down a bit. I’m obviously still a bit unhinged, torn between erotic thoughts of him and thinking he might kill me, but is a woman’s mind ever any other way when it comes to a man? It’s a constantly straddled line and there’s no telling which way things will end up falling, if they even fall at all. We could just share a conversation over some drinks and then go our separate ways, no harm, no foul.

I take a deep breath before I step into the lobby, trying to center myself. No expectations. No conclusions. I’ll go into this openly without any preconceived notions of where things will go. I know I’m lying to myself at this point, but I’m not going to acknowledge it.

When I round the corner into the bar I instantly spot him, posted up on a stool at the far end, watching my approach with that uptick at the corner of his mouth. This whole interaction is going to be like playing with fire. There’s now no buffer between us, no table, no stalker, and the smell of his cologne drapes over me as I climb onto the stool beside him. It takes everything in me not to lean closer and get a better whiff of it.