First Night (Seductive Nights 0.5)(3)


by Lauren Blakely

Julia.

Hmmm…

He had energy to burn, and the bar wasn’t far from his hotel here in the SoMa district. He pulled on jeans and a button-down shirt, combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and headed out into the San Francisco night. He only wished he’d thought to bring along a pair of handcuffs, his favorite accessory. They looked mighty fine with black lingerie, thigh-high stockings, and heels on the right woman.

But that was putting the cart before the horse, wasn’t it?

CHAPTER TWO

Not Again.

Honestly, how many times was the sloppy hipster going to make a play for her? He was staring at her chest tonight. Part of her couldn’t fault him. She’d been blessed in the br**sts department and filled out a C-cup quite nicely, thank you very much. But still. Tact was way sexier than ogling.

“What if I ordered drinks for everyone in the bar? How about that? Would you finally give me your number then?”

“No. Because my eyes are up here,” she said, and pointed to her face.

He snapped his gaze up, caught red-handed. But he was relentless. “See? I can be trained. I’m a good boy.”

“I’m happy to serve you. But the number is under wraps and always will be,” she told him.

The dude was practically spilled across the bar, his chest draped on the sleek metal. “How about another Appletini then?”

“No problem,” she said with a private smirk. Julia loved mixed drinks – she had a bit of mad scientist in her that thrilled at discovering new combinations of flavors. But while the bartender in her enjoyed concocting a cocktail, the woman in her wished that once, just once, a guy would be a guy and order a goddamn beer. Maybe it made her shallow, but she didn’t care. She would never date a man who drank the sissy drinks she often served. She liked her men to be men. No manscapers need apply.

As she mixed the hipster’s drink – some vodka, some apple juice, a splash of apple brandy – a new customer sat down.

“What can I get for you?” She said before she even turned around.

“I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

She froze in her spot simply because the voice was rough and gravelly, and sent a charge through her with its masculine sexiness. But, the man behind that deep and husky voice was probably a dweeb, right? That’d be her luck. She plunked the Appletini down in front of her least favorite sloppy drinker, then turned to the man who wanted the beer, and holy heavenly fiesta of the eyes.

He was tall. He was broad. He had the perfect amount of stubble on his jawline, and those eyes were to-die for – deep brown and piercing. Then there was his hair – thick, brown, and ideal for sliding fingers through. She didn’t want to take her eyes off him, but she knew better than to stare. She quickly straightened her spine, picked her gawking jaw up from the floor, and gave him a cool nod. “We have an India Pale Ale tonight. Will that do?”

“That’ll do just fine,” he said, his muscular forearms resting on the sleek bar. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and Julia couldn’t help but notice how strong his arms were. She bet he worked out. A real man kind of workout. Something hard and heavy that made him sweat and grunt to mold that kind of physique. She poured the beer into the glass, and set it down in front of him. He reached for his wallet, peeled off some bills, and handed them to her.

“I take it you’re Julia?”

Uh oh. How did he know her name. Was he an undercover cop? Had she accidentally served someone under twenty-one? She was diligent and methodical in her ID checking and had never let an underage in. Or wait. Her spine stiffened. Was he onto her? Did he know what she did every Tuesday night at a dimly-lit apartment above a greasy restaurant in ChinaTown that smelled of fried pork? That would be over soon though. It had to be. She’d done her time, and was ready to cash in. Soon, she kept telling herself.