Page 11 of Devious Eyes

“Neither is calling me a hooker.” He steps back a fraction and nods, a smirk settling into his features, as if he’s realised his mistake and couldn’t care less.

“Suppose I should apologise.”

My brow raises, waiting for whatever he has to say. All that happens is his smile increases. It’s sadly glorious, which doesn’t help my need to stay angry at him. “Goodbye.” I turn to go again, refusing to accept his handsome features as an apology, but my hand is still in his.

“You gonna let me buy you a drink, Gabby? Make up for the one I’m wearing?”

His voice is full of a husky edge, the bourbon he’s been drinking only making it sound sexier. He gives me another lazy smile, and I imagine the countless women he’s been able to win over with a glance alone. Well, not tonight.

“How about you give me that apology and then sober up.”

“I think you’ve sobered me up just fine.” His eyes dart between my mouth and my eyes, and I can’t help the thrill it sends through me despite the chauvinistic and degrading comment that started this.

“Apology?”

He snorts and walks backwards towards the bar again, towing me with him somehow regardless of the lacking apology. “I’ll be on my best behaviour, Gabby. I promise.” I doubt there’s anything good about this man’s behaviour, but I smile and keep following. “And judging by the taste of this drink all over my face, you’ve got a sweet tooth, right?” He looks me up and down again slowly. “I’m thinking everything else is just as sweet.” My eyes narrow, but for the life of me I can’t take my gaze off his.

“It’s a passion fruit mojito.” I smile a little, watching as his fingers crawl my arm to lead me back to the table.

“Sweet and passionate. Good odds.” I frown at his words, wondering why I’m accepting his behaviour at all, let alone coming back for more. “Maybe we start again? You up for that?”

“Only if you stop drinking and let me catch up.” My words betray how oddly intimidated I feel around him, but Nate has something about him that makes me want to take a risk.

“Deal.”

We walk the few steps back to the bar and he raises his palm, signalling to the barman, and points between us. Two minutes later, we both have fresh drinks at the table. A glass of water for him.

A loud bang echoes around the bar and my hands plant on the table in shock as I suck in a breath. I look around for the source of the gun, expecting to see men in black again.

“Easy. Just a champagne cork.”

“Sorry, it startled me.” I shake my nerves off as embarrassment creeps across my cheeks. My heart pounds in my chest and all I want to do is look around to check the bar, again. “So, Nate. Now you know I’m not a hooker, when did you arrive? I’ve not seen you before.” I force the question and get lost in Nate’s eyes again. A perfect distraction.

“You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”

“No.”

“Yesterday. And you?”

“A few days ago.” I look out at the view on purpose, hoping to calm down and start over with him.

“No one with you?” Nate’s not shy in making sure I’m alone here.

“I’ve been alone since I arrived. Until I met you, of course.” I turn back and hold his gaze. There’s a spark between us, a heat that has nothing to do with the warmth of the island. My comment earns me a full smile this time, which comes with all sorts of sexy connotations attached.

“I’ll assume you’re here for pleasure then?”

“That remains to be seen. But I’m pretty sure you are with your opening remark to me.” I take a sip of my drink.

“Amongst other things.” Nate pulls a silver lighter out of his pocket and flicks it open and closed a couple of times.

“Smoker?”

“One of my vices.”

“Strike one. And it was going so well.” There’s nothing more unattractive than a man smoking.

“And you’re a saint, then?”