“Good, because the perks are just getting started,” he says with a wink that would seem cheesy from any other guy.
But this man can pull off a wink, wear the hell out of a suit, and master a Rubik’s Cube. Plus, he knows all the high-scoring Scrabble words by heart. Maybe I am going to ride a unicorn tonight. A hot, bearded unicorn.
As I watch him walk to the bar, I decide that, with a backside like that, he could probably pull off just about anything. And of course, to me, his nerdy side is nearly as attractive as his drop-dead sexy exterior and swoon-worthy accent.
Nearly.
West pays the check, returns my un-swiped credit card, and pulls my chair out in a display of manners that’s also sexy as hell. If he offers his arm and insists I walk on the side of the street farthest from the curb as we transition to the bar, I might faint.
Or spontaneously orgasm.
Preferably the latter.
Wait. Nope. I don’t want to trip the light fantastic on a street. I’ll faint, have him catch me, and when I come to in the middle of his bed, he’ll deliver multiples.
He is good at math after all.
He pushes my chair in and nods toward the stage. “I need to say goodbye to my friends before we leave. Want to come?”
I blink and suck in a breath. “You have friends here? God, I’m so sorry. They must think I’m awful, monopolizing you for the entire night.”
He smiles as he takes my hand, sending another sizzle up my arm. “Not at all. They’re newlyweds. Repulsively in love. Barely notice if there’s anyone else in the room. You know the type.”
I laugh. “I do, actually. But I’ll wait by the door if that’s okay. I need to hit the ladies before we leave.”
“All right,” he says, releasing my hand with a squeeze. “See you in a bit, then, Gigi.”
“In a bit, West,” I echo and head to the line for the restroom, even though I don’t really need to go.
Meeting his friends might make this feel like more than an easy, breezy thing, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to feel stressed or nervous or pressured to score another date. I’ve had enough of that. I simply want to be in the moment and enjoy tonight.
And if it leads to something more than a night…well, that would be nice, I guess. But if it doesn’t, I’m okay with that too, as long as I get to play naked Twister with West while I have the chance.
Or naked dominoes. Or naked poker.
As long as we’re naked, I’m guessing any game we play will be ten times as fun.
4
West
In the main gaming room, I peer over Graham’s shoulder as he rolls the die onto the Clue board—Cluedo in the UK—at the high table.
“I vote for Miss Scarlett. It’s always Miss Scarlett,” I whisper unhelpfully. “With the candlestick.”
Graham sears me with a look.
His wife tsks. “West, don’t give it away. Graham is just learning how to play Clue.”
I jerk my head back. “You don’t know how to play Clue?”
“I know how. I’m just not obsessed with board games like some people,” my American friend says, pretending to search for someone in the crowd.
“No idea who you might mean.”
“Also, I prefer strip Clue,” he mutters as he moves his game piece to the library.
“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t be any better at that,” CJ says sympathetically then adopts a cheery grin. “Which means we should go home and play right now.”
Graham shifts to her side of the standing table to loop an arm around her waist. “And it’ll be my wife in the kitchen with my candlestick.”
She swats his shoulder as I roll my eyes. “Like I told my new friend—revoltingly in love, you two.” That gets CJ’s attention. “Is the new friend of the female variety?”
“Yes. A lovely, brilliant one. We’re off to grab a nightcap.”
Graham points to the door. “Why the hell are you talking to us, then? Get out of here.”
“Just letting you know I’m taking off.”
CJ shoos me with both hands. “And now you may go. Be on your way.”
“So much for manners,” I say.
CJ scoffs. “No need for niceties when there’s love in the air.”
“Love?” I voice the four-letter word like it tops the lot of them. Because it does, along with tuna and iron. If I never eat sushi or flatten my own shirt collar again, I’ll consider myself a lucky man. “No, none of that nonsense. Just a good time with a great woman. See you two later.”
The last time I felt the inklings of something more than like, I learned Olivia was only interested in a five-letter word. Money. Another reason why I have no patience for dating games.
When I leave The Library, I find Gigi outside leaning against the brick wall, holding her phone out in front of her, arm outstretched.
Is she taking a selfie?
Odd.
Despite the showy clothes, she doesn’t seem like an Instagrammer. A selfie seems against her code.
If pressed, I would have said selfies were beneath her.
But maybe I’m doing that thing again, that thing where I think better of people than they deserve. I’d hoped to leave that habit behind me in London.
Gigi turns her gaze to me, laughs, then rolls her eyes as she waggles the phone. “I was trying to make the font smaller. I have this friend who sends me drafts of her sexy short stories to read for feedback. But they’re in twenty-point font. I have to scroll every other sentence.”
“That’s quite a large font.”
She gives an approving nod. “Yes, it is. I’m generally good with…large things. But I like to tease Rosie about being a Gigantic Font Whore. She teases back, saying I’ll be grateful for anything gigantic in my life when I’m her age.” She adds in a confiding stage whisper, “Though at fifty I’m pretty sure she’s getting more action than all of my other friends put together. Her blog is scandalous.”
“Really? How so?” I ask, fascinated by this woman and her…zest.
“She writes all about her big city Sexcapades. In depth. No subject is taboo. I’ll shoot you a link and you can read for yourself.”
“Or maybe you could read me an excerpt or two? I’m guessing you’re great at reading aloud, what with your mastery of Z-words and all.” I lower my voice and set a hand on the small of her back. It’s the perfect fit. And even better? The way she shivers and shifts closer when I touch her.
Thank you again, kismet. There’s nothing hotter than a responsive woman, and Gigi is like a cat who arches into my touch, who savors and purrs for it.
Meow.
“All right. Here’s a snippet. ‘It was a hot sticky night in the city and all the zeks were out wielding their zaks, hoping to get off work early and get lucky,’” she whispers in a narrator voice.
I hum low in my throat. “Raunchy things, those zeks.”
“Very much so,” she says. “Into handcuffs and scarves too, I hear. When they don’t have a zak in hand.”
“Scarves you say…” I tap my temple, filing the breadcrumb she’s dropped. “Noted. Now I have a most important question,” I say as we walk to Camp Whiskey.