I keep still when her attention lands on me. She gives me a quick up-and-down glance at first, nothing more than an assessing flick, but it lingers when she reaches my face again. Our gazes meet and hold, and a tense beat passes before her full lips curl into a smile. It beckons me like she’s spoken, commanding me to come her way.
And who am I to tell a lady no?
Sidling up to the empty section of bar next to her, I focus on getting the bartender’s attention, ordering a bourbon old-fashioned before turning to her. She’s even prettier up close, easily the most attractive woman here—sorry to the bride—with flawless skin, wide brown eyes, and a devastating mouth that I’d happily let ruin me.
“Would you like something other than champagne?” I ask. It’s not a great opening line, but I’m not trying to pick her up. I’m here to talk to a beautiful woman for as long as she’ll let me.
Her gaze cuts in my direction, and I get another quick once-over before she nods. “I’ll have the same. But rye, not bourbon.”
I relay her order to the bartender, then slide onto the neighboring barstool, watching her from the corner of my eye. She’s still facing the rest of the room, continuing the hunt, but I’ll consider it my own personal challenge to get her to focus on me.
“So,” I prompt. “How do you know the bride?”
A beat passes before her eyes drag back in my direction. I don’t have her full attention, probably not even half of it, but it’s a start.
“Janelle’s my cousin,” she answers. She could leave it there and force me to keep the conversation going, but blessedly she asks, “How do you know the groom?”
“He’s the son of an old family friend,” I answer, leaving out the part about him being my brother’s friend. “We’re not particularly close.”
Judging by the way her head turns another inch, that’s piqued her interest. She senses there’s a story behind it all. That there might be something a little interesting about me. “And yet you’re here anyway.”
Unfortunately.
“Have to represent the family,” I reply with an easy shrug.“Plus, I have to be here for work next week, so it fit into my schedule.”
She turns a fraction more, shoulders shifting this time. She’s not all the way on the hook, but she’s considering it. “Do you travel a lot for your job?”
“You could say that.”
She waits for me to elaborate, her stare unwavering when I give her nothing else. “You wanna share with the class what it is that you do?”
“You don’t know who I am?” I ask before I can stop myself. But it’s a genuine question, not one meant to make me sound like a prick, even though her coolly lifted brow indicates that’s how she’s taking it.
“Am I supposed to?” she tosses back.
Something loosens in my chest at the lack of recognition on her face. She’s not pretending—she has no idea who I am. Nice as it is not having to explain who I am and what I do, it’s even nicer to encounter someone with zero knowledge of me. Right now, I’m just some bloke at an over-the-top prewedding party chatting her up.
“Have you looked at a single billboard around here recently?”
Something flares in her eyes before she gives a dramatic gasp, champagne glass clutched mock-demurely to her chest. But even though she’s clearly about to make fun of me, I’ve got the outcome I wanted—her attention’s all mine.
“Oh my God,” she says breathlessly, knee bumping mine as she straightens and turns in her seat. “Are you a dancer with Thunder from Down Under? Iloveyou guys.” She leans in conspiratorially before asking in a loud whisper, “Can I see your abs?”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.From her polished looks and self-assured body language, I had a feeling she’d be sharp underneath it all, but her humor has me thrown. “Sadly, I’m English, not Australian.” I’d happily take my shirt off for her, though.
She heaves a disappointed sigh. “That’s a shame. I was looking forward to a private show. You probably have a lot going on under that tux.”
She may be taking the piss, but she’s bold. Her dark eyes still haven’t left mine, a challenge shining in their depths, but again, for just a moment, there’s something else in them.
“Wait,” she says before I can tease her back. “Are you part of the reason why the roads are such a mess around here?”
I flash a wry grin. Half of this city is about to be shut down to accommodate the race, and she’s not wrong about it already being a mess. “Guilty as charged.”
Her Mona Lisa–esque smile comes alive in a new way. “So you’re arace car driver,” she says slowly, putting the pieces together, and I swear she presses her knee a little harder against mine. “I don’t think I’ve ever met one of those.”
I’m in possession of her full attention now, and it’s…potent. Pinning me down. Like I couldn’t tear myself away from her even if I wanted to. I’ve made myself into the perfect prey to sink her teeth into, and now she’s ready to toy with her food.
“Happy to be your first,” I say.
