I peeked over at him. “Your stunted conversational skills are disappointing me by the second.”

He laughed out loud, throwing his head back. “Christ, woman. Where are you from? Not here.”

“Chicago. Just blew in. Boxes are still stacked in my living room.”

“I can relate,” he said, nodding in understanding while holding up his drink with respect. “I’ve made two cross-country moves in the last three years.”

“To where?”

“Here. Then, DC. Then, back.”

“Are you a politician or a lobbyist?” I asked with a smirk.

“Neither,” he said, his expression twisting into disgust. He took a swig of his beer. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Not interested.”

“That’s a terrible name.”

I made a face.

He continued, “That explains the move. You’re running from a guy.”

I glared at him. He was beautiful, but he was also presumptuous—even if he was right. “And not looking for another one. Not a one-night stand, not a revenge screw, nothing. So, don’t waste your time or your money. I’m sure you can find a nice West Coast girl who would be more than happy to accept a drink from you.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said, leaning in.

My God, even if I were sober, he would be intoxicating.

I looked down at the way his lips touched the rim of his beer bottle, and I felt a twinge between my thighs. I was lying, and he knew it.

“Did I piss you off?” he asked with the most charming smile I’d ever seen.

Clean shaven with just a couple of inches of light-brown hair, that man and his smile had conquered far more daunting challenges than me.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” I asked.

“Maybe. The way you hold your mouth when you’re angry is…pretty fucking amazing. I might be a dick to you all night just so I can stare at your lips.”

I swallowed.

My little game was over. He’d won, and he knew it.

“You want to get out of here?” he asked.

I signaled to Anthony, but the stranger shook his head and put a large bill on the counter. Free drink—at least that part of my plan had worked out. The man walked over to the door, gesturing for me to lead the way.

“A week’s worth of tips says he doesn’t go through with it,” Anthony said loud enough for the beautiful stranger to hear.

“To hell with it,” I said, walking quickly through the door.

I passed my new friend and walked out onto the sidewalk, the door sweeping slowly closed. He grabbed my hand, playful but firm, and pulled me against him.

“Anthony seems to think you’ll back out,” I said, looking up at him.