Page 43 of Dirty Like Me
“My pleasure. Having a rough night?”
Was it that obvious?
“Nothing my boyfriend can’t fix.” I didn’t feel up to faking niceties. I didn’t want to owe him anything just because he’d bought me a drink. Or four drinks.
“I don’t see him here.”
But suddenly I did. Over my shoulder in the mirror, approaching from the lobby, his long-legged stride eating the distance between us.
“Jesse…!” I spun around, lost my balance and tumbled off my barstool. Jesse closed the distance, his hand on my arm faster than I could recover, faster than the suit could react.
“Hey, babe,” he said, guiding me back onto my stool. “Miss me?” His mouth quirked in a faint smile. Then he glanced aside at the hovering stranger.
“Always,” I said, doing my best impression of the smitten girlfriend. It wasn’t hard. Pathetic thing was, I had missed him. It had barely been half an hour since he’d kissed me goodbye.
The suit eyed him, then glanced at me. Clearly he was outmatched here, no matter if he knew who Jesse Mayes was or not. He lifted his drink and shrugged. “You two have a good night, huh?” He wandered back to his end of the bar, throwing a lingering look my way.
Jesse watched the man go. He’d changed into a slouchy gray knit hat that covered most of his hair, a gray cashmere sweater and jeans. Moments ago, I wouldn’t have believed he could look any better than he did in those low-slung black leather pants. But he looked so good right now I felt the strongest pull to sink into his arms, let him wrap me in cashmere and his warmth.
Which was definitely the liquor at work.
I looked away. And there was Jude in the mirror, standing just inside the bar, leaning on a tall table, looking slightly pissed off. Hopefully not at me. Or Flynn.
Jesse slid onto the stool next to me, eying the untouched drinks on the napkin before him. The soft sleeve of his sweater brushed my arm, setting off tiny sparks on my skin.
“Expecting someone?” he asked in that low, sexy voice, now a little rough from singing his heart out.
I took a fortifying sip of my drink and summoned my most casual tone. “Just thirsty.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You can drink them, though.”
“I will.” He plucked the plastic sword loaded with cherries off the rim of one of the glasses and set it aside, then raised an eyebrow at me. His dark eyes never left mine as he took up the drink and sipped. His lips quirked a bit at the taste.
“So what’s this?” I reached to finger the wool of his hat and the curl of soft, dark hair poking out beneath. “Disguise?”
“Something like that. Fool you?”
“Nope. You’ve still got that face, you know…” I trailed off, running out of words as his eyes seemed to darken a shade in the flickering candlelight. Which was when I realized my fingers were still touching his hair.
I dropped my hand.
“You didn’t know who I was when we met.”
I laughed, which came out as a kind of snort, which tended to happen when I was buzzed. “But anyone with half a clue does.”
“But not you.”
“Not me. Ask Devi. I’m clueless.”
I grinned, raised my drink to toast that statement, and drank.
Jesse watched me, his dark, unreadable eyes twinkling in the candlelight. “I thought you were going to sleep.”
“I thought you were going to an after party.”
“Yeah, well. Too many people crammed into Dylan’s suite right now, and enough booze flowing that no one will notice I’m gone.”
