I’m genuinely curious, though. It’s my first time here. Is it always so…” He looked around. “Diverse?”
She nodded. “Mostly. More younger kids on the weekends, but during the week, it’s a pretty regular crowd. Connie and her sister have owned this place forever. They’ve pretty much kept it the same. I know the decor’s a little dated, but the glasses are clean and the company’s good.”
“Something tells me you don’t much care about the decor.”
“No.” Then she tried her best for a flirtatious look. “Not that you don’t class up the place in that suit, George.”
It must have worked, because he leaned a little closer. “Class can be overrated. And I don’t have any complaints about the decor, not with you sitting there.”
“Is that so?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was actually flirting back. Maybe her luck with guys was changing.
Connie brought his drink and he took a sip, raising his eyebrows a little when he tasted it. “She certainly doesn’t pour light. Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Natalie laughed. “Maybe? I haven’t decided yet.”
“I’m on to you now, Natalie.”
“Damn. There goes my dastardly plan to take advantage of you.” She wanted to bite her lip as soon as she said it. Too soon!
George’s smile dropped and a distinct, hungry look came to his eyes. “Where would be the fun in that?”
She blinked in surprise.
His smile returned, but this time, it had a slightly wicked edge. “I’d much prefer to be sober when you take advantage of me.”
Okay, maybe not too soon.
Natalie could feel herself blushing again, but she ignored it. “Well, you’re certainly not shy.”
“Neither are you, despite that rather attractive blush.” His voice was a little lower, a little rougher. Natalie squirmed in her seat. Was she actually getting turned on by a complete stranger in a bar with the Padres playing in the background?
A shout rose from all corners, providing a much-needed distraction.
“Damn that ump!”
“Frickin’ blind is what he is.”
“If that was a strike, then call me Bunny.”
“Get me a beer, Bunny.”
The shout and the annoyed muttering broke the tension that had been building and Natalie sat up in her seat a little, taking another drink of her beer. “You a Padres fan?”
He smiled like he knew exactly what she was doing. “I’d be a fool to admit otherwise in this crowd.”
“Tell you a secret?”
George leaned closer. “Please Cer.ise in .”
“Oakland A’s.”
He pulled away. “Blasphemy.”
She shrugged. “Don’t tell anyone or my life is forfeit.”
He sipped his drink again, tracing his finger around the rim of the glass. Her eyes were playing tricks on her, because it almost looked like the ice in his glass followed the path of his finger. She shook her head. No more beer, Nat.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, staring at his drink.
“Of course. I’m very trustworthy.” As long as you’re not a dirty politician or a bad cop.
His dark eyes focused on hers. It was ludicrous to say a spark jumped between them. No, it was more like… a pull. She wanted to lean closer, so she did.
“Giants.”
Natalie gasped. “That’s worse than me!”
“You hold my life in your hands.”
“I do.” She took another drink. “Great blackmail material.”
“I should have known. It’s always the pretty ones who are the most vicious.”
She laughed. “So, what do you do, George-who-isn’t-George?”
“Other than run into pretty girls at bars?”
“You’re being nice. I ran into you.”
“Maybe I bumped into you on purpose.” His dark eyes danced and his smile took her breath away for a moment. “And I’m in private security work.”
“Really? Mysterious.”
“Not nearly as much as it sounds.” He shrugged. “Mostly for clubs and other businesses. Casinos. Things like that.”
“So, your own business?”
“No, my boss is in LA.”
“Ah.”
“But I live here. Well, have lived here for the past three years or so. I’ll probably be moving back to LA eventually.”
“That’s interesting.”
“What do you do?”
Natalie smiled to herself. “I’m a reporter. A crime reporter for the Tribune.”
“So you make those lurid headlines they blast over the front page?”
“Ha!” She shook her head, pleased he hadn’t recoiled like many men did. Reporters didn’t exactly have the best reputation, especially among those in any kind of law enforcement or security work. If her dad hadn’t been a cop, the guys at the end of the bar would never have even given her the time of day. “No, it’s someone else’s job to do headlines. I just write the stories.”
“A writer, huh?” He looked thoughtful. “Hard job. Dangerous?”
“It has its moments.” She shrugged. “But