The bar glowed like molten gold at the edge of the museum's grand hall, the marble arch overhead framing rows of liquor bottles like art pieces. Soft jazz drifted from somewhere above, elegant and seductive, the kind of music that made you want to touch something ...or someone you shouldn't.
I exhaled when I reached the counter.
Away from Alex.
Away from all those people.
Away from cameras and the heavy heat of a kiss that still burned on my lips.
"Whiskey sour," I said, bracing my hands on the smooth marble.
As the bartender nodded, I felt eyes on me.
Not Alex....his gaze felt like being pinned by a storm.
This one was… slick. Predatory in a different way.
I turned slowly.
And yeah.
There it was.
A man in a navy suit, jaw carved like he'd been sculpted by some Greekgod , leaned casually against the bar beside me. Handsome, but with an expression that screamed I get away with too much.
"You know," he purred, "that dress should be illegal."
I blinked.
