But it’s no use. Because when I twist my neck, my eyes lock at once onto the ones trained on me.
Warmth rushes into my nether regions as I meet cocoa-colored eyes that belong to a man with a chiseled chin, close cropped hair as dark as the eyes I’m falling into, and a crooked but sweet smile that feels like it’s made just for me.
I’d meant to be subtle, to keep my wits about me. But I’m flat out staring at this man, mouth dangling open. I take in his wide shoulders and the way I want to run my hands over the muscles his plaid shirt surely hides. The fact that two blondes are hanging on the every word of both this man and the guy that he’s with makes jealousy spike hot and sour in my gut.
And just as quickly as the heat flooded my pussy, it flashes across my cheeks. I’m sure my face is crimson in embarrassment.
Because what the fuck? I can’t remember being this turned on by Randall at any point in our relationship — or hell, by any of the guys I’ve dated — and here I am gushing between my legs from a simple shared glance with a stranger.
The man inclines his strong chin at me, as if to say hello. I reply by blushing even deeper and giggling to myself.
The man can’t hear it, but my friends certainly can. Hattie turns to me, frowning, scanning my crayon-red face with suspicious eyes.
Emmy asks me, “What’s that? I couldn’t hear you over the band.”
Has a sinkhole happened to have opened up in here? Because if so, I’d like to jump into it. I can feel the man’s gaze still lingering, but I jut out my jaw and will myself to keep my eyes on my friends.
“Uh, I just said how much I like this song,” I mutter. It’s not really a lie, because the band is currently slaying a cover of “Sex Bomb” by Tom Jones.
“It’s a good one,” Emmy chirps. She bounces up and down on the balls of her feet, turning her hips so that her dress flares out above her knees. She catches the attention of more than a couple of guys in our vicinity. It’s always been like that with her — somehow her sweetness is perpetually on full blast, garnering her attention from all sorts. Her difficulty has been in attracting someone who’s actually good for her.
I think of Randall. Maybe she’s not the only one dealing with this problem.
I flick my gaze back at the dark-haired man. He’s turned back to the conversation his friend is having with the two blondes. He must feel my eyes on him, though, because I’ve not even taken a full breath when he glances back at me and smiles.
I decide right then and there. Before I leave Desperado’s, I need to meet this man.
Tatum
I hope to god that I’m not drooling at the redheaded woman who keeps casting glances my way. There’s a damned good chance that I am, though, mouth dangling wide like an idiot.
“Whatcha looking at?” one of the blondes chirps.
Her friend follows her gaze and, seeing where I’m looking, scowls. “I guess he’s just not that into us, sweetie,” she tells her partner in crime.
Wyatt’s also looking now, eyes glowing with curiosity. “She’s cute. You going to talk to her?”
The first blonde pouts. “But you’re talking to us.”
I ignore her and lift my brows in surprise at my buddy.
“What?” He shrugs. “It’s not everyday that a woman catches your eye, Mr. Particular.”
I ignore the jibe. “I’m here with you. That’s what you wanted, right?”
Wyatt nods. “Yeah, you’re my wingman. But as you can see, I’m quite enthralled by these fine ladies.” He winks at the two blondes. The first one’s pout deepens, but the other flushes and ducks her head, hiding a smile. “I think I’m good here.”
I cock my head at my friend, doubtful. “You sure?”
“I’m not.” The first blonde plucks at my sleeve. I shake her off.
“You bet.” Wyatt gives me a playful shove on the shoulder. “Get out of here. I know you’ve been itching to dance anyway.”
“You’re not wrong,” I say, brows lifting in surprise. I thought that my friend had been fully focused on the blondes. “But how’d you know?”
He snorts. “Dude, you can’t sit still. You’ve been antsy all night. And I know you. So go on and enjoy yourself.”
The woman pulls at my sleeve again with two inch long red painted nails. “I don’t know if he can enjoy himself without us,” she whines.
I pull away from her touch. Drawing a deep breath, I try to combine the kindest smile I can muster with a no nonsense tone of voice. “Sorry, darling, you’re lovely, but you’re not my type.”
She sighs. “What is your type?”
“You know, I’m not quite sure,” I answer honestly. “But I suspect that I’m the kind of guy who likes one in a million.” My eyes travel back to find those copper tresses. The redhead is turned away, encircled by her friends. But as if she can sense my gaze, she turns and looks into my eyes. I can’t help the smile that curls like smoke over my lips. My chest warms when the redhead gifts me a shy smile of her own.
“I’m beginning to get a pretty good idea of your type.” Wyatt chuckles. “You going to ask her to dance or what?”
I clap my buddy on the shoulder. “I think I just might, since you’re in such excellent company.” I nod at the two blondes. The pouting one releases a maudlin exhalation while her friend curls an arm into the crook of Wyatt’s elbow. “Don’t worry, ladies, you won’t miss me. Wyatt here is twice the man I am, if you know what I mean. He has a reputation for cultivating a satisfying relationship with every woman he meets, no matter the circumstance.”
Wyatt’s eyes bug out in surprise at my words, and I swallow my laughter. I honestly can’t say what Wyatt’s performance in the bedroom is like. But I’m his wingman, and the extra accolades are the least I can give before I leave him in the care of his two blondes — both of which have perked up significantly at my words.
I wink at him, and now he’s stifling his own grin, catching onto to what I’m trying to do. Both women have their hands on him, so I figure my work here is done. “Farewell, and have the most pleasant of evenings,” I say, bending into a slight bow. The blondes aren’t listening to me anymore. All their attention is fixed on Wyatt, who’s waving me away.
I take the not-so-subtle hint and turn on my heel, leaving the three of them to whatever escapades await. However the night ends up for them, I hope it’s fun. Wyatt could use more than a bit of that, and I have no doubt that he’ll have twice the fun with twice the women fawning over him.
Participating in a threesome probably ranks high in many guys’ sexual fantasies. Not me, though. I think that making love to that one right woman has got to be so much more delicious than sharing an orgy with a room full of women that aren’t the one.
I find the redhead. She’s still with her friends, but now she’s on the edge of their group, a drink in her hand. They’re all turned toward the dance floor, watching. Her ample hips dip and lift with beat of the band’s bass drum, her dress floating airily about her. I feel a sudden urge to see what’s under that blue-green fabric. I want to tuck my hand between her legs and dip into her, making her wet.