Page 364 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

LUKE

Today

She was the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time and some asshole left her hanging. From my spot at the bar where I was watching the baseball game on one of the flatscreen TVs while I ate a burger and had a beer, it was obvious she’d been stood up.

It wasn’t the bright yellow of her sundress that caught my eye.

It was her blue eyes. No, the full lips with some kind of shiny gloss.

No, her toned legs. No, the blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck.

Hell, it was her, the perfect package, that I instantly wanted to get my hands on.

While her dress wasn’t painted on, it fit every one of her slim curves to perfection.

It was as if God knew every single thing that I craved in the perfect woman and made this one just for me.

My dick knew what it wanted.

I wasn’t the only man in the place checking her out. I could read their thoughts. That a quarter could bounce off that ass. That her tits were small and high and had the creamiest, soft swells above the neckline of her dress.

I swiped my mouth with my napkin wondering which guy I was going to have to fight first. The bartender who winked when he took her order?

The trio of cowboys with belt buckles bigger than their brains if they thought they had a shot?

Fortunately, the place was busy for trivia night, with many distracted by the game on small tabletop screens.

One guy had the balls to approach, but she shook her head at whatever he was offering and he walked off. Smart man.

Sam, my agent, would be thrilled to know I didn’t make a scene that would be caught on camera and end up on a social media site and go viral. I had enough problems with that already.

My friend, Mark, saw her, too. From beside me, he stood, ready to shoot his shot next. No fucking way.

I grabbed his arm, yanked him back onto his stool.

He glared at me. “What?”

“Not a chance,” I snarled, having no issue with doing what it took to keep him away from her. “She’s mine.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.”

He shrugged, finished his beer in one swallow, then stood again. “Fine. You know what you’re doing. I’ll text you later.”

I sighed when he left. I didn’t want him anywhere near her.

She sat alone for five minutes. Ten. She was at a nearby high-top slowly working her way through a glass of wine watching the entrance.

Each time the door swung open, she sat up straighter, only for her to slump when it wasn’t who she waited for. She checked her cell for either a message or the time or both.

I didn’t know who the fucker was, but I wanted him to show up so I could drag him by the collar out back and beat the shit out of him for making the woman’s shoulders slump even for a second.

Then I wanted to slap him on the back and thank him for losing her before he ever had a chance.

This woman needed a man who was going to be present. Who’d treat her like a fucking queen.

She stood and moved to the only open spot at the bar. Right next to me at the end. She raised her hand, and the bartender came right over. “I’ll pay my tab.”

He dropped the slip in front of her and before she could touch it, I tossed a twenty on top of it.

“The guy’s an asshole,” I told her. “Doesn’t deserve you.”

She looked to me. Blinked those pretty blue eyes. Shit, she had freckles I hadn’t seen before. Her gaze met mine, then raked over me. I was used to people looking at me. Ogling. Being photographed. Hounded. Being famous meant I had eyes on me all the time.

Even here, wearing a ball cap and sitting in the corner, a few patrons recognized me, but thankfully no one approached.

The perk of a small town in Montana. Around here, people left you the fuck alone when all you wanted a burger and a ballgame.

Exactly why I was here for a few weeks. Peace and quiet and to let the media shit with Lacey die down.

Despite what she said, my co-star and I weren’t in a relationship.

We never had been. I never touched her other than how it was written in the script.

Sure, on-screen sex scenes–even ones for TV–looked realistic, but they were totally fake.

Thirty people were around us while filming and I had on gym shorts under the bed sheet, no matter how naked the camera made me look.

I refused to put on that modesty wear shit that made you look naked.

But Lacey had fed the relationship rumor to the press to raise her visibility.

The only woman I was interested in stood beside me. It was my new goal to make her lose every bit of self-doubt and have all the orgasms I could give her. If I had my way, she’d never question her value again.

“Excuse me?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper. Her eyes held confusion, not recognition.

“The guy you were waiting for,” I said. “He wasn’t worth your time. Dump his ass.”

The bartender swiped up the tab and the twenty. “What he said,” he told her, then walked off to help another customer.

She took a deep breath, sighed. “How do you know I’m waiting for a man?” she wondered.

I raked my gaze down her body. “You wouldn’t put on a dress like that for girl’s night. You had plans that involved some guy taking it off of you. With his teeth.”

My mouth watered for the chance.

“God, I look that desperate?” she asked, a quaver in her voice. “I mean, maybe I am, but–”

Shit. No.

I reached out, took her hand to keep her from leaving. She looked back at me, then our joined hands.

“You look perfect,” I assured, sliding my thumb back and forth over her palm. “If you were trying to get that guy to wonder what you have on underneath that dress, it’s working.”

A pretty blush colored her cheeks. “Thanks for that, but I’m going home to wallow in chocolate and a romance book. At least then I know I’ll get lucky.”

My dick pulsed against the front of my jeans. “Stay. Forget about him, whatever his name is.”

“Ronald.”

“I’m Luke,” I said, using my real name. I set my free hand on my chest and held my breath, waiting for her to say You’re not Luke.

You’re Shep Barnes, Dr. Dark and Dangerous and I want you to fuck me like you did Priscilla Sancillo from season one before she died when the elevator plummeted ten floors in the finale.

For the past five years, everyone on the planet knew me as Derek Dashwood, star of NYC ER, the hit TV show. No one knew my real name except my family, a few friends and anyone in Nebraska where I grew up. The name was a distinguisher for me, separating those who wanted to know me or Derek.

The one thing I wasn’t was Derek, whose image was controlled by my agent and a staff of public relations reps, or worse Shep Barnes, the oversexed neurosurgeon I played on TV, who wasn’t even real.

Neither were, in fact.

The show was so successful that people who saw me getting gas thought I was actually Dr. Barnes or Dr. Barnes grabbing takeout or Dr. Barnes at the dentist.

I wasn’t sure I was going to get anywhere with this gorgeous woman, but if I was going to fuck it up, I wanted to be struck down in a smoky blaze all by myself.

When she didn’t say anything, I continued. “This is when you tell me your name.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Aspen. My name is Aspen.”

“I’ll buy you another glass of wine or chicken wings or we can talk. Tell me about your family.” When she gave me a funny look, I reached out and grabbed the tabletop trivia device. “Or we can do trivia.”

She studied me for a moment, and I mentally fist pumped when she sat on the empty stool beside me.

“You don’t want to see me when I have more than one glass of wine. I don’t eat wings because I’m a vegetarian and I don’t talk to my family. Knowing that, you still want to be my blind date?”

“Gorgeous, I’ll be anything you want.” I leaned in even closer. I could smell her soft perfume. I definitely didn’t want her drunk and I didn’t care if she didn’t eat meat as long as she loved dick. “And if the night goes the way I think, you won’t need a romance book to get lucky.”

I’d make sure she got whatever she needed. My face between her thighs? Done. Orgasms while riding my dick? Done. Whatever made her hot, I’d fulfill.

Her blue eyes met mine. Held.

I could see the various colors of gold in her hair, watched the thrum of her pulse in her neck, noticed the glow of her skin. I wanted this woman like no one else. If I could throw her down on the bar and fuck her so every man in the place knew she was taken and taken well, I would.

“Muscat,” she said.

I blinked. For a second, I thought she sneezed, then I wondered if she was talking about the animal. “What?”

Her blue eyes met mine, tipping her head toward the trivia game. “C. The capital of Oman is Muscat. As my blind date, we have to play together.” She gave my fingers a squeeze. “You’re right. I think we might get lucky.”