And he had a glass of scotch in his hand.
No beer. No wine. Just straight liquor.
Wow, this guy was something.
He lifted the glass slightly, swirled the amber liquid a bit, and then brought it to his lips for a quick drink. He licked his lips before he set it down again, looking at me like he’d already said hello even though he hadn’t said a word.
It was rare for me to be caught off guard by a man, to be thoroughly impressed by just his energy and appearance. But he made my mouth close, made me stare, made me a little nervous.
After another sip, he spoke. “I thought you deserved a drink after you handled that asshole.”
I didn’t even care that he’d been eavesdropping. “A couple drinks, actually.” I took a drink, letting what was left of my lipstick smear against the glass. “And thank you.” I held up my glass before I set it down again.
He nodded.
“Oh no…you’re the strong and silent type.”
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing.
“I’m a sucker for the strong and silent type.”
His eyes looked out the window for a second, a small smile moving onto his lips. He turned back to his scotch and took a drink, like the booze didn’t affect him at all. “I was about to head home when I overheard your conversation. Never heard a woman handle herself like that.”
“Then you need to get out more.”
He grinned again, and it was such a handsome look on him, a soft touch to all his hardness. The shadow on his jawline was so masculine and sexy, and the deep brown color of his eyes made him look dangerous, even when he smiled. He leaned against the back of the leather booth, his shoulders wide, his long arms reaching the table where his hands cupped his glass. “Are you a cop?”
“No,” I said with a laugh. “I’m a journalist.”
“Why is that a funny question?”
“Because I don’t have the spine for a job like that.”
“After what I heard, I disagree.” He leaned forward, his elbows landing on the table, his palm circling over the top of his glass, his fingers along the edge. “What kind of journalist are you?”
“I write for the New York Press.”
His eyebrows rose, like he was familiar with the paper and its prestige. “That’s impressive.”
I appreciated the compliment, but I didn’t respond to it. My success usually intimidated men, along with my loud mouth and opinionated comments. But so far, he didn’t seem like one of those guys.
“It seems a bit dangerous, based on what I heard.”
“Oh, that was nothing.” I took another drink, glad that the wine had settled in my stomach and made me relax a bit. This man set all my nerves on fire. My conversations with Jerry got me nowhere, but it was worth it…because it led to this.
“He basically threatened to kill you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m like a cat. I have nine lives.”
“And what life are you on now?”
I thought of all my close calls, all the assignments that were too dangerous for people to take. “Probably five.”
“Then you’re running out.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “We gotta die sometime, right?”
He swirled his glass again before he took a drink. Then it was empty, and he pushed the glass to the edge of the table, as if he knew it would get the attention of the busty bartender.
It did. She came right away and refilled his glass.
“Thanks.” He pulled it back to him and took another drink.
Damn, this man could drink.
“What was your most dangerous assignment?”
“Iraq.”
His eyebrows rose again, slightly.
“ISIS.”
“You went alone?”
“It’s actually easier to travel alone than in a group. Draws less attention.”
He stared at me, that focused stare, like he had no problem with intimacy, like he was so confident that silence only strengthened him, not weakened him. Without saying a word, he expressed his opinion, found me respectable rather than crazy. “How long were you there?”
“About four weeks.”
“That’s a long time.”
“When it comes to complex situations like that, it takes time to really understand the problem, to get people to trust you enough to talk, to share information with you that could get them beheaded. I’m usually working on multiple stories at a time, so I also utilized that stint to discuss life for the women there, the sexism and prejudice they face on a regular basis.”
“And the danger doesn’t scare you?”
I shook my head before I took a drink. “I can handle myself.”
He looked into the contents of his glass, a slight smile on his lips. “I believe it.”
It was surprising how many men chose to give me a lecture about my profession, especially when I never asked. They warned me about the dangers, that it was no place for a woman, that I should stick to the lifestyle section of the paper—even though there wasn’t one. “So, why is a hunk like you sitting alone in a bar?” Guys like this didn’t grow on trees. When they did exist, they were usually so arrogant and stupid that a simple conversation with them was painful. But this guy seemed to have the looks…and the brains.
“My date canceled.”
“This must be a blind date, then. Because if she knew what you looked like…” I shook my head. “That bitch definitely wouldn’t cancel.”
A slight smile spread his lips. “No, we know each other.”
I appreciated the fact that he didn’t lie, that he didn’t just say whatever I wanted to hear to get into my pants. A man like him probably had regulars on top of regulars. There was never a lonely night. If he wanted someone, he could just send a text, and she’d show up at his door in a few minutes, like hot pizza delivery.
I would love to be one of his regulars.
“But I’m glad she canceled.”
I tried to suppress my grin by drinking from my wineglass, not letting that comment get under my skin. But he was smooth, and after I licked my lips, I smiled.
“I never would have met such a badass woman.”
“Badass, huh? I think most people would just call me a bitch.”
“Sometimes I wonder if they’re the same thing.” He took a deep drink then licked his lips.
I liked that comment—a lot. “You want to go out Saturday night?” I had no problem asking a guy out. If I waited until the end of the night, it was guaranteed he would make a pass at me. But I never liked to wait for things to happen to me. I chose to happen to things.
He didn’t smile, but his eyes lit up a bit. “I’d love to.”
I pulled out my phone then stared at him.
He smiled then told me his number.
I wrote it down and quickly typed Boy Toy #2 under his name. Then I put my phone back into my clutch. “I’ll see you then.” I grabbed the glass and finished the rest of my wine. “And thank you for the wine.”
He didn’t ask why I was leaving or where I was going. He watched me scoot out of the booth and stand. “Dax.”
“Carson.”
He got to his feet then extended his hand to me.
I took it, giving him a firm shake. “Really nice to meet you, Dax.”