Keeping a distance was a necessity, but she missed those Thursday nights. And she missed the drinks, truth be told. She could certainly go for a little nightcap to finish off the day. She’d always been comfortable in her own skin and with her own company, so a quick solo stop at the bar was no big deal.

She followed the music and sat down at the tall, sleek metal bar, ordering a vodka tonic that arrived quickly, and taking out her iPad. There was a new Tumblr feed she wanted to peruse, but that would only happen from the privacy of home and bed since it was a terribly naughty one. She had an article she wanted to finish, and then a novel to dive into about a con artist, and she’d even downloaded a new app for practicing Spanish phrases, partly because the male voice on the app was so deliciously sexy. Perhaps better to listen to that in her apartment, she reasoned, as she lifted the cool glass to her lips and took the first sip. Raising her eyes, she noticed that same man she’d seen earlier. He was seated at the end of the bar, drinking what looked to be a vodka tonic too. The glass hit his lips at the exact same moment, his moves mirroring hers. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle, a hint of wicked delight in them.

Same drink, same time, same absolutely smoking-hot guy she’d spotted an hour before. One barstool away. When she set the glass down, she said, “Jinx.”

“Jinx,” he repeated.

“Does that mean you owe me a drink?” she asked, and then nearly clasped her hand over her mouth. But instead, she went with it. “Sorry, that’s pretty much close to the cheesiest pick-up line ever.”

His lips curved slightly into a grin. “Does that mean you’re trying to pick me up?”

She laughed, and shook her head. The silvery metal surface of the bar revealed a rush of red racing to her cheeks as she answered. “No.”

She wasn’t, right? Those words had just tumbled out accidentally, not because she’d seen him earlier and memorized his face, and not because one quick glance at Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected had her adding him to an arsenal of possible late-night ammunition to feed her active fantasy life.

Very, very active, and she fed it regularly. With Tumblr, with toys, and with wild images of pleasure.

“That’s too bad then,” he said, and his voice was deep, with the slightest rasp to it, like velvet that had a rough edge. That edge in it sent goose bumps down her spine. Or maybe it was his words, the hint of possibility to them.

“Is it? Too bad?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, shifting her body language, one hundred percent aware that she was getting her flirt on.

“Not just too bad. It would be a travesty.”

She brought her hand to her heart, playing along. “How sad. I’d hate to be responsible for a disaster of that degree.”