A good thing considering men in Armani suits were hardly a dime a dozen in her world.
More like once in a blue moon.
"What's he doing here?" she muttered.
The crowd at the underground bar was the usual mixture. Goths, metalheads, stonies, and the truly bizarre.
Most came to enjoy the heavy-rock bands, and to throw themselves around the cramped dance floor in wild abandon. A few preferred the back rooms that offered a wide variety of illegal pursuits.
Hardly the sort of place to attract a more sophisticated clientele.
CIA gave her hair a good fluff before reaching for her tray. "Probably here to stare at the natives. People with money always enjoy nibbing elbows with the riffraff." The woman grimaced, her expression older than her years. "As long as they don't get too dirty in the process."
Darcy watched the waitress efficiently sashay her way through the rowdy crowd with a small smile. She couldn't entirely blame CIA for her cynical nature. Like herself, the waitress was alone in the world, and without the education or resources to hope for a brilliant career.
Darcy, however, refused to allow bitterness to touch her heart. What did it matter if she was forced to take whatever job might come along?
Bartender, pizza delivery, yoga instructor, and occasionally a nude model for the local art school. Nothing was beneath her. Pride was highly overrated when a girl had to put food on the table.
Besides, she was saving for something better.
One day she would have her own health food store, and nothing was going to be allowed to stand in her path.
Certainly not a defeatist attitude.
Kept busy pouring drinks and washing glasses, Darcy didn't notice when the latest arrivals took a place at the bar. Not until their glares and flexing muscles had managed to warn off the rest of the patrons and she found herself virtually alone with them.
Feeling a strange flare of unease, she forced her feet to carry her toward the waiting men. It was ridiculous, she chastised herself. There were over a hundred people in the room. The men couldn't possibly be a threat.
Instinctively halting before the man in the suit, she swallowed a small gasp as she met the golden brown eyes that smoldered with a heat that was nearly tangible.
Yikes.
A wolf in silk clothing.
She wasn't sure where the inane thought came from and she was quick to squash it. The man was a customer. She was there to offer him service.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Plastering a smile on her face, she put a small paper coaster in front of him.
"May I help you?"
A slow smile curved his lips to reveal startlingly white teeth. "I most certainly hope so, cara," he drawled with a faint accent.
The hairs on the back of her neck stirred as his golden gaze made a lazy survey of her black T-shirt and too short miniskirt.
There was a hunger in those eyes that she wasn't certain was entirely sexual.
More like she was a tasty pork chop.
Yikes, indeed.
"Can I get you a drink?" She forced a brisk, professional edge to her voice. It was a voice she had discovered could wilt an erection at a hundred paces.
The stranger merely smiled. "A Bloody Mary."
"Spicy?"