Home > Trouble(9)

Trouble(9)
Author: Tia Louise

Daisy pops back into the foyer. “Sly, you coming?”

“I’ll drop her where she needs to go.” I glance at Joselyn. “If that’s okay?”

She wavers a bit longer before giving a short answer. “Sure.”

An edge is in her voice, and I finally catch a glimpse of my feisty redhead.

Her cousin skips over and gives me a hug. “Night, Spence.” She turns to Joselyn and kisses her cheek. “I’ll call you.”

Daisy and Miles are gone, and I’m still waiting to see what Joselyn will say. She glances up at me and presses her lips into a decided smile. “No boyfriend.”

“In that case, I know where to get the best martini in town.”

“Lead the way.”

With pleasure.

 

* * *

 

“So what makes this the best martini in town?” Sly’s jacket is off, and her hair is soft over her broad shoulders.

She’s gorgeous, perched on a leather barstool in Nightcaps with that silk blouse giving me a teasing glimpse of her lace bra underneath.

Standing in front of her, I pass one of the two cone-shaped cocktail glasses to her. “For starters, they’re ice cold.” She takes the drink in both hands and gives it a little sip. Her eyebrows rise as I continue. “They use the precise amount of vermouth, and just a dash of olive juice.”

She takes another, bigger gulp, blue eyes wide. “Mm—I agree.”

Tilting her head back, she polishes off the entire thing then lifts the toothpick and pops the green olive in her mouth, chewing like it’s a piece of gum. “You’re right. That was a damn good martini.”

I almost laugh, but I narrow my eyes instead. “You’re supposed to savor it.”

“Can I have another?” Her eyes dance. “To savor?”

“Are you used to shooting straight vodka?”

“No.”

“I’ll get you another one, but only if you sip it this time.”

“I told you, I don’t like being bossed around.” The fire in her eyes heats my already simmering blood.

Stepping closer, I slide my hand along her narrow waist. “I don’t want you drunk tonight.”

She considers this before nodding. “Okay.”

Signaling the waitress, I order another then turn to study the creamy skin of her neck leading down to the luscious curve of her full breast taunting me from the V in her shirt. God, she’s gorgeous. I want to spend the night getting to know her so much better.

But first… “What happened to the boyfriend?”

Her eyes follow the olive as she traces it around the edge of her glass. “We broke up.”

“Good. He didn’t deserve you.”

A gorgeous smile spreads her full lips, and she shakes her head. “You never even saw him.”

“But I saw you. Any man who would leave you alone looking the way you did is a fucking idiot.”

She snorts into her glass, taking another small sip. “Fucking Elliot.”

“I rest my case.”

Her lips press together, and she peeks up at me from under full lashes. “That was very nice what you said about my work today.”

“I’m not nice. I’m honest.”

“So you’re not a nice man?” She leans closer on the barstool, and I’m ready to take her home.

“Haven’t you heard?” She shakes her head, and her eyes fix on my lips. Yep, time to take this vixen to my bed. “I can be nice when I want to be.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re naughty.”

“I am. Just like you.”

“At least we know it.” She slips the olive between her teeth, chewing as she gives me a sly wink.

I think I get her nickname now. “Are you hungry?”

She nods, and I take her hand. “I ordered dinner for two. It should be at my place the same time as us.”

“You’re mighty sure of yourself.”

Pulling her hand into the crook of my arm, her body slides closer to mine. “I only hoped.”

“Then it’s your lucky night.”

Fuck, yeah, it is.

 

 

Chapter 5

 

 

Joselyn

 

“It’s beautiful.” I’m on the balcony of Spencer’s two-story brownstone overlooking the Congaree River.

It’s in a historic part of downtown with galleries, cute little shops, and restaurants, and as the light breeze moves through my hair, I remember walking through the city on my first visit, dreaming of living in one of these gorgeous homes.

We didn’t talk much on the ride back, and I feel a little more sober than when I left the bar. Now I’m here. What am I doing here?

“The view sold me on this place.” He joins me, two glasses of wine in his hands.

He’s gorgeous in a bespoke suit with his dark hair falling in perfectly messy waves. I want to curl my fingers in it, remembering how soft his hair is—contrasted with the dark scruff on his square jaw.

I remember the way he kissed me that night, demanding, possessive, leaving my cheeks scuffed pink. I want to feel that scruff between my thighs.

He’s intense and intimidating, sensual and predatory. He’s too smart, but I’m not afraid of him.

“You have impeccable taste.” I take the glass and sip the dry, oaky wine.

Steak and fish are plated downstairs on the dining table, but I’m not hungry for food.

I texted Courtney not to wait up. I have no idea what to expect, but it’s been a long time since a man seduced me.

I could use a bit of seduction.

“It’s my job.” He looks at me in a way that makes my insides beg. “What do you like, Sin?”

I take another sip of wine and give him a coy smile. “True crime.”

His chin drops, and he laughs. “So I’ve heard. What do you like so much about true crime?”

Shrugging, I step around the immaculately furnished sitting room. It’s all leather and brass and stained-glass Tiffany lamps. “The passion, the fear. It’s exciting and terrifying.”

“You like being scared?”

“Yes, but I like being in control of my fear.”

His hazel eyes darken, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Do you want to eat something?”

“Not just yet.”

I take a step closer, setting my wine glass on the end table. At the bar, we started something I want to continue. My tongue wets my bottom lip.

His dark brow furrows as he watches my mouth. “You probably should. You’ve had a bit of alcohol.”

“I’m not a child, Spencer. I know when I’ve had too much to drink.”

“Do you?” The way he looks at me sometimes is pure lust, like he’s stripping me bare in his mind.

I place my hand on his wine glass, taking it and setting it beside mine on the nearby table. He slides his hand along my waist, the warmth of his palm radiating through my silk blouse.

My palm is flat against his chest. “Do you enjoy true crime?”

A hint of a smile, a deep dimple, and his voice is low. “I prefer more sensual entertainment.”

“What do you like so much about it?” I imitate him, sliding my palms under the lapels of his coat and easing it off his shoulders.

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