Take Me (Take a Chance 4)

You know what? That’s exactly what she would do.

She sauntered over, a hand on her hip and a seductive smile on her lips. She knew how to play men like him. She’d been dealing with his type all of her life. They thought they owned the world and all the women in it, all because they were hot. She’d caught a little bit of his green-yellow-red light speech—and she guessed he lived by that rule. Run when the relationship got serious.

Little did he know, she lived by it, too. She just called it self-preservation instead of a fancy freaking name.

She stopped in front of the booth and shot him a look from underneath her lashes. Men loved that garbage, and from the look in his eyes, he was no different. He was eating all of this up like a kid in a candy store. “Are you ready to give me my seat back? Or did you just call me over here to insult me some more?”

“I called you over here because you’ve been watching me,” he said, lifting his mug to his lips. “And I’ve been watching you watching me.”

Darn, she’d been caught. Best to play it off like it meant nothing. Because it didn’t mean anything. At all. “If I was watching you, it was only because you’re in my seat.”

He patted his muscular thighs. “If you want it so bad, come get it.”

She eyed his lap. Did she dare? The temptation was definitely there. What would he do if she sat on him? Called his bluff?

She lowered herself onto his thighs, wriggling her butt to get comfortable. Positioning herself sideways on his lap, she saw that his bright sea green eyes went all wide and he set his mug down with too much force. She fought back a grin. Yeah, he definitely hadn’t expected her to take his suggestion.

His hands flopped to his sides like a fish out of water, as if he was uncertain of what to do with them. “Uh, okay. That works.” He gave a hoarse laugh and ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. “So, what’s your name? I feel like I should know it, since you’re on my lap and all.”

“Morgan.” She sipped her whiskey sour. Her hand didn’t shake at all, even though the glass felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Hopefully, only she knew how fast her heart was beating over the fact that she was sitting on a strange man’s lap. She purposely didn’t ask him what his name was. “Where are all your buddies?”

“They went home.”

“And you didn’t go with them?”

“Nah.” A corner of his mouth tilted up. “The bachelor party is over and I’m a big boy. I live alone.”

“Aww. Are you getting married, sweetheart?” She cocked her head and fluttered her lashes. “How cute.”

Of course, she already knew it was a different guy. Probably the hottie who’d been at the bar when she’d sat down because blondie had given his stoplight speech when the bachelor wasn’t there. But instead of revealing her theory, she decided to act like God hadn’t given her the good sense to know left from right.

Men liked that, too.

“Not me. My best friend’s the one getting married.”

She played with her hair, wrapping a fiery curl around her finger. He watched her hands, his eyes hot and intense on her. So freaking easy. “And you didn’t want to hire him a stripper? Some best friend you are.”

“Yeah, well, he’s marrying my baby sister so he doesn’t get to see that side of me for his bachelor party.” He shifted his weight on the booth, unsettling her precarious perch on his legs. She quickly regained her balance on his lap. “No stripper or hookers or any other shit like that. Not when it involves my baby sister.”

Oh, so he had a soft spot for his little sister, huh?

That was actually kind of…cute. And she really didn’t want to associate cute with this guy. But now she knew why he’d sent her away. It hadn’t been an insult to her. He was being a protective older brother.

Her righteous anger deflated, leaving her sitting in a strange man’s lap for no reason. She grasped at straws to get the anger back. “Are you calling me a hooker now?”

His cheeks turned red. “No, of course not.” He took a drink of his beer. “About that, I’m sorry about earlier. I just saw your bra thing under your top,” he gestured to the strap of her beaded bra, “and assumed you were here because one of the guys hired you.”

“It’s fine.” She slid off his lap and stood. Her anger was gone and that left her sitting on a strange man’s lap for no reason. “Well, it’s nice meeting you and all but I’m going to call it a night.”

He canted his head. “Let me buy you one more drink? To make up for my mistake?”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I think it is.” He rose and stepped into her personal space. Man, he was hot and tall. Like, really tall. She was five-seven and he towered over her. She wanted to back off, to give herself room to breathe, but that would make her look weak. Not the image she wanted to give him. “I have to insist.”

She stared him down—even if she had to look up at him to stare him down—and he did the same to her. Seriously, this man had alpha male written all over him. And she liked it. She had come here for a date…

“Fine. One drink, Mr.…?”