Turn Me On (Man of the Month 7)

Bottom line, everything they had shared had been one big illusion as far as he was concerned. It wasn't really love. He'd never loved her.

Boom. Mic drop. Cue the violins.

And to add insult to injury, she'd lost serious ground in her real estate career because her previous boss had feared that she was going to turn domestic and lose her edge. Instead of offering to sponsor her broker application and pass her his portfolio of clients and leads when he retired, he'd handed it off to an eager single male agent. Not that he'd admitted as much out loud, but Amanda wasn't an idiot.

Then again, maybe she was. She'd fallen for Leo, hadn't she?

Which was why Amanda now looked, but didn't touch.

Okay, not true. She totally touched. But she rarely bought the merchandise.

As a real estate agent who focused on high-end properties, networking came with the territory, and so Amanda went out a lot. Dates, business meetings, casual cocktails. Whatever you wanted to call it. With men, those types of meetings often led to a sweet commission, and she was just fine with that. Good for her business and good for her ego.

As for getting naked ... well, most of her friends thought she was promiscuous, just because she had a seriously naughty sense of humor. She didn't bother to correct them. What was the point? Even Jenna didn't know the extent of how much Amanda didn't fuck around.

The truth was, when Amanda let a guy into her bed, it was only when she was absolutely certain that there was no chance that the night would turn into a thing or that the thing would turn into a relationship.

She was still too anesthetized from cleaning up the wounds from her last relationship. No way was she going under the knife again that quickly.

Besides, why would she sacrifice her best business tool--her status as a single woman--so early in her career? Hell, Leo had done her a favor. She'd been struggling until they'd broken up. Now her bank account was full and shiny.

Yup, her life was finally back on track. All was good. No tweaks needed.

Which meant she needed to stay away from Mr. Glasses. Because she could already tell that there was something compelling about him. Something that would be hard to walk away from. And right now, Amanda simply wasn't at a point in her life where she wanted to stick.

Looking, however, was perfectly acceptable, and as Amanda nursed the last sips of her Jalapeno Margarita, she watched Glasses and Whiskey rise, shake hands, and then head for the door. Friends, she decided. Connected by a business relationship that had turned into genuine friendship. They probably didn't golf together, though...

She frowned, considering. Cycling, she decided, scoping out their lean, muscled bodies. They got together and went cycling. She'd bet her reputation on it.

Her ability to read people was her secret weapon in the world of real estate, and she hardly ever missed. Leo, of course, had been one very big exception. She'd met him when she sold him a house in West Lake. And she'd missed reading him by a mile.

She swiveled back to the bar, intending to grab her phone and pay her bill, but while her phone was there, the check wasn't.

Once again, she caught Reece's eye and signaled for the check.

"Already taken care of," he said, but he was midway down the very long bar, and she was sure she must have misunderstood him.

"Sorry, come again?"

He moved closer to her, then nodded across the room, to where Tiffany was pocketing the tip from Mr. Glasses's now-abandoned table.

She almost laughed. At least now she knew that she hadn't been imagining his interest. Still, what a lost opportunity.

It was past six now, and she considered staying and ordering some of Tyree's amazing appetizers and calling them dinner, but she was feeling strangely at loose ends. She wanted to move. To walk. And so she slipped her phone into her purse, waved goodbye to Reece, and headed toward the door.

The moment she turned west on the sidewalk, she saw him. Mr. Glasses. He stood just past The Fix, ensuring that anyone inside the bar couldn't see him. And though he held his phone in his hand, as if he'd been checking messages only moments before, now all of his attention was focused on her.

"Another fifteen minutes, and I was going to go back in." He spoke with a Texas drawl so slow and rich, it was almost a caress. It certainly felt like one to Amanda.

With effort, she kept her cool. "Were you waiting for me?"

"I guess that depends on whether you'd find the answer creepy or endearing," he said, and she burst out laughing.

"Let's go with door number three," she said. "Interesting."

"I can live with that." He took a step toward her, his jeans hugging his thighs as he moved. He wore a white button down, and she could see the outline of a plain T-shirt underneath it. Business casual, Texas-style. He wore his hair closely trimmed, and a dusting of beard stubble highlighted a strong jaw.

The man was a looker, no doubt about that. But it was his eyes that truly caught Amanda's attention. A pale gray that seemed almost silver when they caught the light and were now focused on her with an intensity that was almost a physical caress.