Start Me Up (Man of the Month 4)

"Good. Just remember the idea is to draw the customers in, not scare them off."

Nolan held up a hand in the Boy Scout salute. "I promise to treat the whole thing with the respect it deserves."

Reece rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should enter the contest. That really would be funny."

"Nice. Very nice."

Reece just clapped him on the back, thanked him f

or helping out, then told Cam to comp his drinks. Sometimes, it really was good to have friends.

At the moment, though, he was wishing that his dark-haired paradox didn't have quite so many. She was still surrounded by bachelorette party-goers who showed no signs of slowing down, despite the fact that it was almost midnight on a work night.

He frowned, cursing the gaggle of girls. He wanted to get her alone. He wanted to taste those lips. Hell, he wanted to ask her why she'd bolted.

He set his empty bottle aside, then signaled to Cam for another. As he waited, he leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest as he considered the problem. Hell, maybe he should just walk away. Maybe she wasn't interested in him at all.

But then she turned, her eyes finding him before darting away again, as if he was her guilty little secret. He bit back a self-satisfied grin. Because he'd figured something out. She wasn't playing hard to get. She was hard to get.

And that was all Nolan needed to know.

Fighting a grin, he turned around to take the fresh bottle from Cameron, then he put in a brand new order, too. A little bit of ammunition for his spur of the moment plan.

A few minutes later, he watched as one of the waitresses approached the dark-haired woman with a tall glass full of ice, a clear liquid, and a twist of lime. His paradox frowned, clearly confused, then listened as the waitress pointed in Nolan's general direction. Then his paradox's brow furrowed and she pointed to her friends and their cluster of tables, now littered with a slew of drained glasses and half-empty Pinot Punch pitchers.

He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew she was protesting that she'd had enough to drink already. And when he saw the perfect lips on that gorgeous wide mouth form the words, "I can't," it was almost as if he could hear her sweet, sexy purr.

Her blonde friend came to her side just as the waitress was explaining something. He saw his paradox frown, clearly confused, and then he saw her friend's smile widen in what could only be pure, devious delight.

Then his paradox turned his direction, and when their eyes met, he was struck with a wave of such pure desire that he almost put a stop to his whole ridiculous plan right then. It had been one hell of a long time since he'd craved a woman this much, and he wasn't much sure he liked the feeling.

Then again, maybe he liked it too much.

By the party tables, the blonde gave his paradox a little shove, and she stumbled forward, unsteady on those heels, which were clearly her nemesis despite doing amazing things for her legs and ass.

She turned her head, but this time it wasn't to look at him. Instead, she was glancing the opposite direction, back toward her friends, all of whom were nodding encouragement and shooting him surreptitious glances while he pretended to be too occupied with peeling the label off his beer to notice.

Still, as she headed his direction, he decided that he liked each and every one of her friends, and if the whole group wasn't already wasted, he would have bought them a fresh round of drinks. As it was, he slipped Cam a card for a taxi service he often used, and told the bartender to keep him anonymous, but to make sure each of the girls knew that their ride home was taken care of.

He turned back just in time to find his paradox walking the last few feet toward him. He wanted to watch her approach--the little swivel in her hips, way her teeth grazed her lower lips, the way she fisted her hands, then wiped her palms on that deliciously sexy skintight black dress--but she was so obviously nervous and confused that he had to go to her. Had to reassure her. And so he pushed away from the bar and met her halfway, feeling unfamiliarly nervous himself.

"You bought me club soda," she said, and from her tone it was impossible to tell if she was asking a question or making an accusation.

"I wanted to buy you a drink," he admitted. "But I thought wine or more Schnapps-laced punch might be counterproductive."

"Oh." She licked her lips, and he had to tighten his grip on the beer so that he didn't bend forward and taste that mouth right then. "Um, to what?"

"To the fact that I want to kiss you." He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that, but he didn't want to scare her away. "And when I do, I want you sober."

"Oh," she said again. "Well, that's too bad."

"Why's that?" He held his breath, afraid she was going to tell him that she wasn't interested in either him or a pick-up line.

But then he saw her throat move as she swallowed. And when she lifted her head, and he saw the courage gathered in those blue-gray eyes, his cock tightened in response to a flood of desire so potent it almost brought him to his knees.

"Because I'm incredibly drunk," she finally said. "And I really don't want to wait to be kissed."

Chapter Five