a table at an event honoring the armed forces and would love for you to be our guest. It’s in Los Angeles.
Will you be there?
Yes. Universal Studios (where the event takes place) is my client.
OK, it’s in my calendar. See you Thursday night.
And here I am, lying on a chaise lounge on my hotel balcony overlooking the ocean, cool morning breezes licking my exposed hotel robe warmed skin, left totally high and dry by Hale Lundström and picturing him licking my nipples instead of the ocean borne breeze doing the job.
Yes, I admit it, I’m intrigued that he wants me on his special project, excited that I get to work with him, confounded by his sudden interest in me (which might not really be interest in me – that could all be in my head), and scared to death by how much real estate he’s occupied in my head since first setting eyes on him at the St. Regis.
The text appears on my phone the minute I hit the runway in Austin and flick off airplane mode.
Welcome back. I’ll meet you at the 24 Hour Diner on 6th and Lamar.
Driving downtown, I’m downright nervous. This man makes me so uncomfortable that I don’t have butterflies in my stomach, I have actual cramps. Full blown freaking stomach cramps.
He’s sitting in one of those curved booths along the wall, typing into his phone as I slide into the other side, keeping my distance.
“Hi.” I’m trying to be so cool.
Looking up at me, I get a slow smile. A sexy, I’m going to eat you for dinner wolfish grin.
Keep it together, Sierra, I remind myself. This is business, not a date with this guy.
“Good flight?” he’s succinct.
“Uneventful. So that’s always good.” A busboy puts down two waters in front of us and I pause before speaking again. “Are you in Austin often?”
“A lot more in the past few months as our presence expands here.”
The waitress comes by and he orders two Bourbon Manhattans. I know I’ve got a “what the fuck” look on my face because he’s smiling at me. He didn’t even ask me what I wanted. I don’t drink Bourbon. But for some reason I love that he didn’t care and went ahead anyway. There’s something so manly and hot in how authoritative he is.
“Don’t like Manhattans?” He appears amused.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had one.”
The wolfish smile is back, “I figured maybe your bartender boyfriend made you a Manhattan in Manhattan.”
My bartender boyfriend? How interesting that is the info about me that stuck with him. Very interesting.
The waitress is back, placing the dark amber liquid before us. Raising a martini glass, Hale toasts, “To winning,” as he takes his first sip.
I’m sitting there, glass in hand, watching him, fumes of strong alcohol making my nose twitch.
“Try it,” he demands.
Slowly I bring the martini glass to my mouth, peering over the rim. I immediately feel the burn as it hits my lips, leaving a scorched trail en route to my empty stomach. I can feel the rush as it enters my bloodstream and wonder if after the second or third I will feel comfortable with this way too handsome, for his own good and mine, man. My eyes have not left his as he watches me drink. There’s nothing boyish about him. He’s pure man, right down to the dark stubble on his defined jaw. I wonder what it would feel like trailing down my breasts to my nipples. The thought of the scratchiness makes me squirm.
“That’s delicious,” I smile at him, loving the warmth the alcohol is spreading right down to the far reaches of my fingertips. I nearly demolish the drink in the next two sips. Anything to relax around this guy.
Hale signals the waitress for two more Manhattans and I’ll be damned if I’m going to protest.
Leaning in toward me, his gaze direct and searing, “I like a woman who can run with the boys.”
Not breaking his eye contact, “I may have to pull off my Louboutins, but I can run with the best of ‘em.”
“That’s what your boss says,” he informs me.
“So why am I here and not Susan, Hale? She manages your business for us and has a much better understanding of your needs.”
Pulling the martini glass from his mouth, he sputters the liquid and chokes slightly. By his smile I can tell he is amused. “Do you really think she has a much better understanding of my needs?”
Now I’m choking on my words, “Your business