With Emily gone, Lance stood closer to Paige. He commanded the bartender's attention. As he reached for his wallet, his round, meaty shoulder gently brushed against hers.
“Just so you know, I'm not going to sleep with you,” Paige said abruptly.
“Brutal honesty. I love it.” Lance laughed and passed Paige her drink. “So where are you from?”
“Lived in Tennessee my whole life,” Paige answered in her slight, sing-song southern drawl.
Lance smiled. “I like your accent.”
“Thanks. And you don't have one. So where are you from?”
“I grew up in upstate New York, but I've lived all over. Right now I live in Boston.”
“And what brings you to Nashville?”
“Business,” he said with a wink.
Paige knew that wink was an invite to ask what he did for a living. But based on the quality of his suit, it was obvious that this guy made a killing at whatever it was he did. She figured he didn't need to have his ego stroked any more—so she didn't take the bait.
“Neat,” Paige said simply, sipping at her drink.
“Yeah, I'm pretty much a modern-day superhero,” Lance added, shifting his body weight.
It's killing this guy that I won't ask him what he does, isn't it?she thought to herself.
“Wow, a superhero, that's really great,” she teased. “So do you wear underwear on top of your outfit?”
He laughed sarcastically and leaned closer to her ear. “No. That'd be weird. Actually, since you asked, I'm not wearing underwear.”
“I didn't ask,” Paige rambled, at a loss for words, “and besides, I don't believe you.”
But her eyes stole an instinctive glimpse at his crotch. The thick bulge that ran down his thigh told her that he was telling the truth … and that he was hung, too. Becauseof coursea guy that handsome and well-to-do would have a big dick. Regardless, the sight of him put a tense knot in her throat. She quickly forced herself to look away, but the damage had been done—Lance had caught her looking.
“Don't believe me, then.” With a devilish spark in his eye, he shrugged and sipped his whiskey. “You can find out later if I'm telling the truth or not.”
“Lance!”
She smacked his chest with the back of her hand—but his chest was so rock-hard, she might as well have smacked a brick wall. It didn't faze him at all.
“I think I liked you better when I thought you were a cheesy guy with bad pickup lines,” she said while she pressed her smarting hand between her thighs. “Because now you're just being aggressive and weird.”
He gave a shrug, and the accusation rolled off him like water from a duck's back. “You're really beautiful, Paige. You know that?”
She lowered her head. “You're just flattering me …”
“No. Seriously. You are.” Gently, he touched his massive hand to Paige's chin and raised her gaze to his. It was all-too-easy to get lost in his big green eyes—and even easier to forget that only a few minutes ago she could feel nothing but an ailing heart. But all she could see now, staring back at her, was the desire burning in this handsome stranger's eyes. He wanted her, and he wanted her badly, and the veryideaof his lust made her grow weak in the knees. She knew she had to look away, but she couldn't, and then Lance steadied her jaw and moved in for a kiss.
She was surprised. She shouldn't have been—it wasobviousthis guy would try something exactly like that—but she was. Too stunned to move away, Paige didn't try to stop him. Their lips touched, and Lance kissed her deeper.
It wasnice,wasn't it? Kissing a total stranger—rather, kissing anewset of lips. His lips moved with hers in a new way; his kisses didn't feel empty or scripted or fake. They were lips that hadn't betrayed her. Lips that wouldn't ever get thechanceto betray her … because this guy meant nothing to her.
He was just a total stranger. A hot guy from Boston. Some young, entitled, rich guy with an ego. A guy who didn't mean anything, who couldn'tevermean anything, because she'd never see him again. He was a guy who could make her forget about her idiot ex-boyfriend and her backstabbing roommate … at least for a little while.
Maybe Emily's right? Maybe this is what I need.
Paige was surprised by how eagerly she kissed him back and how much of herself she gave to him. They kissed deeper, hotter, right there in the middle of the bar, knowing people were watching—and soon she felt his bulge pressing against her thigh as he lengthened in his trousers.
In the drunken darkness of the bar, she reached an eager hand between his legs and touched him. Now she knew it for sure; he'd told the truth earlier. Only a thin layer of baby-soft cashmere stood between her hand and his rock-hard manhood.
