More than Fashion

3

“Are you bothering my girlfriend?” he asked in a cool, direct voice. Good god, he had an English accent. As if he wasn’t hot enough already.

Wait, did he just say girlfriend? I raised my eyebrows at him, but he kept his gaze focused on the other guy.

The douchebag looked confused again, but he removed his hand from me at least. “Girlfriend?”

My “boyfriend” moved a little closer, draping an arm across the back of my chair, yet not actually touching me. He was tall, though smaller in build than the jerk beside me. Even so, he had more of an edge to him. A dark, imposing presence, like he tended to get what he wanted.

“I believe she told you to leave.” He said it in a polite way, but his voice had an underlying menace to it.

“Whatever, man.” The douchebag got up and walked off, muttering to himself. He left the bar, probably heading back to his hotel room or to a different bar to pick up another girl. I hoped, for his sake, he didn’t try that Hello Kitty line again.

“Thanks, but I didn’t need you to rescue me,” I said to my fake boyfriend with a flirty smile.

“No, I’m quite sure you could handle it on your own.” He sat beside me and gestured at the bartender to refill our drinks. “But it’s a gentleman’s duty to help a lady in distress.”

“A gentleman? I thought those didn’t exist anymore.”

“Clearly you’ve been hanging out with the wrong men.”

“You just saw proof of that.”

He laughed, and it practically set my panties on fire. His voice was like butter, and I wanted it spread all over me. That didn’t even make sense, but it was true. Wow, maybe I was drunker than I thought. But the bartender slid another martini in front of me and I took a sip without a second thought. When in New York, right? Or was that Las Vegas? Rome? Whatever.

“Besides, I wasn’t in distress,” I said. “I was already getting rid of him when you showed up on your white horse and just had to save the day.”

“Maybe I wanted an excuse to talk to you. Forgive me?”

Up close, he was even better looking, with steel gray eyes that seemed to dance under the bar lights. Damn, he was almost too pretty. Guys that hot always knew it, and they were usually trouble. But for tonight, I’d suffer it. And with those lips and that body…well, there wouldn’t be much suffering.

I dragged a lazy finger around the edge of my glass and smiled. “I suppose.”

He held out his tattooed hand. “I’m Gavin—”

God, even his name was sexy. I pressed a finger to his soft lips. “No names.”

“No?” he asked, arching his dark eyebrows. “Not exactly fair, since you know mine now.”

“I tried to stop you.” I preferred not to use names when I hooked up with a guy. Names made everything far too personal and that didn’t work for me. Especially not tonight. Not when I only had a few hours and then would be on my way, never to see Gavin again. I was already trying to forget his name.

“What shall I call you, then?” he asked.

“Whatever you want, as long as it’s not Hello Kitty.”

“Why in the world would I call you that?”

“That’s what the other guy called me.”

“Not a very good pickup line.”

“Obviously not.”

“Worked out for me, though.” A sly smile spread across his lips. I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. Couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to taste him.

“Yes, it did.” I was dying to get him up to my room already. I placed my hand on his knee, hoping he’d get the hint. But he seemed to want to talk.

“What are you doing in New York, mystery girl?”

“I’m here for business.” And I don’t want to talk about it, I hoped my tone conveyed. I inched my hand up his leg, along his smooth black jeans. I bet they fit as well as his shirt did and wondered how his ass looked in them. I’d have to sneak a peek before I dragged them off him. And another peek once they were in a pile on the floor.

“What do you do?” he asked.

Enough already. When could we skip to the making out part? Maybe if I told him something he would shut up and kiss me. “I’m a pre-med student.”

It slipped out without a thought. Technically that was my “job” at the moment. But that wasn’t why I was in New York. Not that he of the gorgeous hair, enticing lips, and oh-so-sexy accent needed to know that.

“I’m here on business, too. I’m…an artist.” There was a touch of hesitation to his words, like he was worried I’d be turned off by that. “Where are you visiting from?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

An eyebrow shot up. “Is it so terrible I want to get to know you?”

Yes, because I had no intention of seeing him again after tonight. And no, because when a guy as sexy as him wanted to get to know you, it wasn’t terrible at all. Especially when he brushed hair away from my face with the softest touch and lowered his head to my ear. “Tell me where you’re from,” he whispered, his breath tickling my neck.

“Los Angeles,” I confessed, silently begging him to kiss me. But he didn’t.