He looked up at me from his beer. I faltered a bit at the total lack of emotion in his face and fought an automatic instinct to retreat. His eyes were a deep brown, almost pretty, but remote and flat. Dark hair was cut short, bristly. His nose was prominent and slightly crooked, like it had been broken. Maybe more than once.

He looked mean, which was a good thing, but I was used to a little more effort. Even assholes provided a fake smile or smarmy line for the sake of the pickup. There was a script to these things, but he wasn’t playing his part.

My club persona and beer from earlier lent me confidence. Whatever was bothering him—a bad day at the construction site or maybe a fight with the old lady—I didn’t care. He was here, so he needed this as much as I did.

I planted my elbow on the bar. “I saw you looking at me earlier.”

He raised an eyebrow. I shrugged. He was making me work for it, but I found myself more amused than annoyed.

“Buy me a drink?” I asked.

He considered me, then nodded and signaled the bartender.

The beat of the club reverberated as I took a sip. “So do you talk?”

His lips twitched. “Yeah, I talk.”

“Okay.” I leaned in close to hear him better. “What do you talk about?”

He ignored my question—or maybe answered it—by asking, “What are you doing here?” Almost like he was asking something deeper, but that had to be the alcohol talking.

“I’m trying to get laid, that’s what I’m doing here.” I pulled off a breathy laugh I was pretty proud of.

He didn’t react, didn’t appear surprised or even interested, the bastard. He just looked at me. “Why?”

I decided on honesty. “Because I need it.”

He seemed to weigh the truth of my words, then nodded toward the exit. “All right, let’s go.” He got up and threw some cash on the bar.

His easy acceptance caught me off guard, just for a moment. But it shouldn’t have surprised me, because…well, because men always wanted sex. That’s what I liked about them—they didn’t even bother trying to hide it. It was worse when I hadn’t seen it coming, when it had sneaked up on me—Now wasn’t the time to think of that. It was never the right time to think of that.

He tucked his hand under my elbow, guiding me. He used his body to maneuver us through the crowd, almost as a shield. The whole thing was so gentlemanly, given what we were about to do, that I wondered if he’d heard me right. Maybe he’d want to get coffee or something, and wouldn’t that be awkward all around?