The man was hot and a gentleman. What was wrong with him? Nothing that I could see.
“Even across the room, both of us could tell you weren’t enjoying yourself, and when the guy put his hand on your arm and you flinched…”
He didn't finish the sentence, but I saw the way his jaw clenched.
I looked down at my fingers. I offered a noncommittal sound because there wasn’t much to say about Bob/Bill. “I should have ditched him before I needed rescuing. I mean, he thought he was eating real oysters.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “But you’re too nice, aren’t you, Emory?” he commented, as he watched me smooth my dress over my thighs. “He didn’t do anything, did he? Say anything to hurt you?”
I glanced up at him through my lashes. “Are you going to go beat him up if he did?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. At least teach him some manners.”
Wow, he was intense—his complete focus on me worried about me. It was exhilarating. With his dark eyes on mine, I couldn’t look away. I had no doubt if I told him the guy had put his hand on my waist, Gray would have gone back inside and broke his fingers.
“No, he didn't do anything. Really,” I added because he didn’t seem to believe me. I gave a small, dry laugh. “I could have gone to his room with him.”
Both of Gray’s brows went up at my mocking tone. “I can take you back if you want.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the bar. I could see a humorous gleam in his eye.
I pursed my lips, trying not to smile. “He was really interesting actually. I now know the months to eat oysters. Actual oysters.”
He held up his hands in front of him. “I can’t compete with that.”
I grinned at his ridiculous words. Gray had no competition, none at all, as far as I was concerned.
“Clearly, I’ve been out of the game since I walked away from that winner,” I replied, my tone dry.
He frowned, not picking up on my sarcasm. “Game?”
“Parties, mingling, meeting people.” I circled my finger in the air. “Meeting men.”
“You hooked the oyster guy.”
It was my turn to frown. “Oh yeah, Bob/Bill is a great catch.”
“His name is Bob Bill?” he asked, surprised.
This time I laughed outright. “No. I don’t remember what it is. It starts with a B though.” I shrugged. “An auditor.”
“You’ve had lots of guys proposition you at bars?” He watched me closely, perhaps a little intently, for the answer. He made it seem as if this was something of a test.
I frowned and pointed at myself. “Me? Really?”
He crossed his fingers over his very flat belly as if settling in. He didn’t answer my question but posed another one of his own. “If that guy doesn’t do it for you, what are you looking for?”
He’d said he wasn’t trying to pick me up, so he wasn’t really interested in me. Perhaps for conversation, but that was it. My awakened libido would just have to go dormant once again. Perhaps this knowledge had me relaxing, for I could talk with a man, but I couldn’t talk with a man. A man who might actually be interested in me. I just had to think of Gray as Paul’s trainer and forget he made my panties damp and my heart thrum and my cheeks flush. And think twice about cowboys in the future.
“You’re speaking of appearance only?” I asked.
He considered. “Sure. We can start with that. You can’t use your husband or boyfriend’s description though.”
I wasn’t out of the game that much to know he was fishing.
“I’m divorced,” I told him, making it clear, perhaps more to myself than Gray that Jack was long, long gone. I had every right to sit here with a hot guy and talk.
Gray knew he was caught and grinned sheepishly, little crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. How could he look so forbidding and dangerous but be so… damn cute at the same time? “Good to know.”
I just looked at him, arched a brow.
“Oh, you’re waiting for me.” He pointed at himself, putting the fingers of his left hand on his chest, so I could see he wore no ring. “Single, never married.”
I nodded, reassured I wasn’t poaching on some woman’s territory. Not that I was doing any kind of poaching. I was having a conversation. That was all. I doubted he was going to grab me and press me up against the restaurant's wall for wild monkey sex.
“Well?” He stretched his legs out in front of him as if he had all the time in the world. His doing this allowed me to notice how his jeans stretched taut over very muscular thighs. It was possible I could see an outline of his… oh crap.
Realizing I was ogling there, I looked up, his dark eyes held mine then roved over my face. Self-consciously, I smoothed down imaginary wrinkles in my yellow dress once again. I felt my cheeks heat. I hadn't checked out a guy's package in… well, forever.
“What am I looking for in a guy?” I repeated, trying to get my mind back on the conversation and out of the gutter. A personal trainer who dressed like a cowboy. You. I could totally be into you. Gray pushed every one of my hot buttons, but no way was I telling him that, for it would be mortifying to have it be officially one sided when he laughed at me and walked away.
“Yes.”
I gave a little shrug of indifference, my long hair shifting. I’d put clips in to hold it back from my face, but since my hair had never done anything I’d wanted of it my entire life, the soft waves were falling loose. “That’s easy. I’m not looking.”
It was the truth. I had no interest in finding a man. After Jack left town with his paralegal four years earlier, I’d been in single-mom mode. He’d not only divorced me but pretty much ditched his then-fourteen-year-old son as well. Dealing with Chris and his anger toward his father, high school, moving back in with my parents, college applications, life, work, I hadn’t lifted my head up to get some air let alone look around. Now, with Chris away for his first year of college, I had more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. I was, for the first time since I was nineteen, on my own. I was an empty nester, and that term meant old. Early bird specials and discount admission.
“Really?” He crossed his ankles. “I think you’re the only woman in the restaurant not on the prowl.”
“And Christy,” I added. My friend had prowled enough and found her man. “What about you?”
“I look,” he admitted. “I saw you, didn’t I?”
“You rescued me,” I countered. There was a big difference. Paul asked him to save me. He hadn’t sought me out on his own. Still, I could feel my cheeks flush, and I glanced away, uncomfortable with his words.
“I’m not looking either, but I’m not not looking as well.”
I paused, thought about that. “Surprisingly, I follow you.”
“Don’t you want your drink? It’s still pretty hot out.”
I glanced at the glass, the condensation beading and sliding down the sides. The air was still quite warm, even though it was well after eight. It was the throes of Indian summer, for the sharp bite of fall was usually in the air right about now.
“I don’t drink from glasses given to me by strangers.”