Page 5

I gave him a solitaire nod.
“So.” He slapped his hands on his knees. “What’s it like having your own firm? I’ve always wanted to do it myself, but you know, it’s not that easy for someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” I asked, and raised a brow.
“You know. Without connections. Not all of us can be the son of Bryson Gunner, you know.”
God. This guy was a prick.
I looked around the bar for some sort of life raft to save me from decking this guy in the face. Something that was tempting, but it would also piss my father off, which was something I was trying to avoid right now. He was still getting over my latest scandal, which was not a big deal. Who wouldn’t want to be photographed with two different women in one night? Two sisters to be exact. Even better, honestly.
Not to my father, though. He kept threatening to take hold of my firm if I didn’t get my act together. There was nothing my father hated more than his image being tarnished, and I wasn’t helping.
“Hey, sorry, man. I didn’t mean to offend you…” said Jeremy without a single note of sincerity.
“You didn’t. I just—”
And that was when I saw her. My life raft.
A petite brunette wearing a sweater dress that hugged every curvy inch had just walked through the door. Her eyes were set on the bar and she walked with a quiet confidence to a seat at the other end of the counter. I watched her hips sway as she moved and how the hem of her dress inched up ever so slightly to the curve of her perfect ass. If I thought the bartender looked good, she now didn’t even hold a candle to this dark-haired beauty.
“I just saw my date walk in,” I lied, barely looking at Jeremy as I picked up my drink and walked over to the newcomer.
Jeremy said something after me, but I couldn’t hear. I didn’t care.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked, pointing to the barstool beside the woman.
She turned slowly and looked at me, her caramel brown eyes assessing me. She was even better up close. Her skin was tan and smooth and was only accentuated by the sage green of her dress that hung off her shoulders, drawing my eyes to her collarbones that were begging for my lips to brush against them.
“It’s all yours,” she said casually, going back to reading the drink menu.
I sat down next to her and sipped on my drink, sneaking glances. Each one came up with something else that turned me on. Her lips were pouty and set against her prominent cupid’s bow, making it hard to not wonder what they tasted like. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail that fell across her back, and I wondered if maybe it was black instead of brown.
“See something you like?” she asked, not looking up from her menu.
Shit. I was caught.
“Oh. Uh. Sorry. I was just…”
“What’s good here?” she interrupted my lousy attempt at an excuse for why my eyes kept finding her.
“Their dirty martinis are the best in town,” I said.
“Perfect.” She waved the bartender down.
“I’ll have a dirty martini please. Extra dirty.”
The bartender looked from me to her and nodded curtly. A brief look of disappointment crossed her face before she turned away.
“What’s your name?” she asked, turning toward me.
I did everything I could to not let my eyes wander to the strapless neckline of her dress, which fit snuggly just above her breasts.
“Troy,” I said. “And you are?”
“Monica,” she said, holding out her hand.
I was taken aback by how firmly she shook my hand, and how much it sent a jolt right through me.