“Hell yeah, you can. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Michelle who now has two Ls. I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but you don’t seem like a woman who’s going to get offended easily. I noticed how hot you are when you walked into the hotel an hour ago.”

Hot. He’d called her hot. Not pretty. Not beautiful. But hot. She’d take hot. She’d happily take being called hot, because hot was what she felt when he said it. Hot all over. Bothered in all the right places.

“How hot?” she asked, eager for more of his compliments.

He leaned in closer, and lowered his voice to a sexy whisper. “Fucking hot.”

She shut her eyes for the briefest of moments, letting the words flare through her body, igniting something inside of her that usually was only lit up from her fantasy life. But now she was feeling something in real life, from a real person, who seemed to have real interest.

“I believe we could make a nice mutual admiration society then, because I noticed the same of you. Also about an hour ago.”

He raised his glass and clinked it with hers. “To mutual admiration.”

“And to another drink, and I will buy. Because it looks like we’re ready for another one,” she said, glancing at her nearly empty glass.

“I’m ready for more,” he said, and brushed his hand against her shoulder. A fresh blast of sparks raced through her body as he traced a soft line along her collarbone. The tiny touch that started on her neck spread through her, like a golden comet, leaving heat in its wake. In the span of time, his touch was a blink, but it held the promise of so much more.

“I’d be up for more,” she whispered.

“Much, much more,” he said slowly, seductively, that deep, sexy voice threading its way through her, settling down between her legs, turning her on to the point where she was picturing reaching for that wine-red tie, tugging him close, and learning how that stubbly goodness on his jaw would feel against her. And how much more he could raise the heat inside her body with a kiss.

She ordered but when the bartender returned with the drinks and she reached for her purse, Jack placed a hand on top of hers. Firmly. “I was only joking about you paying.”

“What if I want to pay?”

“I’m not going to let you pay, Michelle,” he said in a determined tone, his bright blue eyes fixed on her.

She swallowed, looked down at his hand covering hers, and already her imagination revved into hyper-drive. Long, strong fingers. Big hands. Holding her down. Pinning her.

He seemed to sense where her mind had gone, or maybe he just felt the tension radiate from her body, because he didn’t move away as he paid for the drinks. Before she knew it, his fingers were laced through hers, and he was holding her hand at the bar.