Читать книгу Sweet Spot - Kimberly Kaye Terry - Страница 6

When he strolled into the Sweet Spot exuding confidence like other men sweat, looking all kind of ways good to her, Gabrielle Marlowe knew she was in trouble. Particularly in the emotional state currently holding her hostage.

His long, muscular frame was the picture of raw masculine perfection, wearing the hell out of a dark blue, finely striped, expensively cut suit that Gaby could tell, even from her distance away, was tailor made for his perfect form.

Despite the expensive cut, he wore the suit with a casual disregard.

As he sauntered closer to the bar, where she sat perched on one of the high-backed bar stools, she allowed her eyelids to drop low, knowing her lashes were long enough to hide the fact that she was checking every fine inch of him out.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

As soon as she thought it, she cringed. Yeah, she knew it was beyond clichéd, but that’s just what he was.

He didn’t have a typically handsome model’s face. No. His was much harsher, more sensual than anything that could be termed as tame as handsome.

There was a certain…wildness, a barely caged sensuality about him.

Gaby shivered.

He had to top six feet by several inches, and even though he was wearing a suit, Gaby could tell he had one hell of a body. She ran a discreet glance over him, again, top to bottom, as she sipped her drink.

His sable-colored hair had a slight wave and was cut low, tapering down in the back to nearly skin in a tight, almost militarytype fade, with the top long enough that several thick, wavy strands fell over his brow.

If not for the lock of hair that fell over one eye, he could have been a living, breathing, poster boy for a Marine Corps recruiting ad.

Semper Fi.

The Marines slogan popped into her mind.

Always Ready.

Damn.

Gaby blew out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

His jet-black, winged brows slashed over vivid greenish gold eyes, framed by sooty dark lashes so thick they seemed unreal.

The darkness of his eyebrows and lashes was at odds with his hair color, and Gaby thought perhaps he dyed his hair.

Although he didn’t strike her as the type to do that. He seemed too manly to do something so feminine.

She casually glanced over his broad shoulders and thickly muscled body.

No, he definitely didn’t seem the type of man who’d dye his hair.

A fine-boned, yet prominent hawkish nose, hard chiseled lips, the lower rim slightly fuller than the top, and a well-defined chin with a deep dimple completed the picture of a man who, with one look, could probably make any woman he wanted stop, drop, and strip.

Yeah, Gaby thought with an inward sigh of appreciation…he had it like that.

When he turned his head and glanced over at her, Gaby took another sip of her apple martini from the thin straw and hoped he couldn’t see how fast her heart was thumping beneath the thin silk blouse she wore.

Or that he noticed how her nipples pearled against her useless bra.

Or maybe she did want him to notice…

When she dared to peek up, it was to see he’d turned away and was giving his attention to the female bartender who had scurried his way as soon as he walked to the bar.

“Hey, Sweet. Haven’t seen much of you lately. Got me wondering if you forgot all about me,” the woman quipped, the wattage on her smile so bright, she could illuminate the entire club.

So this was Sweet.

She should have known.

Sweet was the owner of the Sweet Spot, as well as two other popular nightclubs. Besides the one in San Antonio, the other two were located in Austin and Dallas.

Since she and Adam had been coming to the club over the last three months, Gaby had learned they called the owner Sweet because rumor had it the man could sweet-talk a woman straight out of her panties with a few well-chosen words.

She turned her body slightly around in her chair and subtly hitched her skirt farther up her thighs. Just so he could get a nice visual of her naked pussy.

She usually wore panties when she went out. Usually.

But not tonight.

Not after what happened between her and her lover, Adam.

When Gaby came home early from a pharmaceutical convention to which the university where she taught had sent her, she’d found him in bed, where he and another woman were going at it like two rabid dogs in heat.

His secretary.

So clichéd. So damn clichéd.

In bed with his secretary…the least he could have done was be original.

Gaby clenched her teeth, her face tightening as she bit back feelings of anger and betrayal over what the bastard had done.

In her bed, no less.

She took another sip of her martini, eyeing tall, dark, and fine discreetly from beneath lowered lashes, thinking about what she was going to do next with the mess that was her life.

She’d come to rely on Adam for so much, particularly over the last months of their relationship.

She didn’t really know how she’d gotten into the situation she was now in. Didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it coming. Or how she was going to get out of it. She knew what she was doing, what she and Adam were doing, was wrong.

Damn. And now this.

Guess a nice set of big fake tits, overprocessed bleached hair, and a tight hoochie-mama dress made Adam forget all about his avowals of love for her.

So yeah. Gaby was definitely in a what the hell kind of mood.

She forced her thoughts away from Adam and his cheating behind and continued to sip her apple martini while listening to Sweet talk to the bartender.

“You sticking around long, this time around?” the woman asked him.

He accepted the glass and leaned against the bar, taking a drink. His strong throat worked as he swallowed, before he set the glass on the smoky gray glass bar counter.

“Haven’t been gone, just busy with other stuff. No plans to go anywhere, anytime soon. Except bed,” he said wearily, his voice a deep sexy rumble. “In fact, I think I’ll head up to the loft and get some shut-eye. I’m tired as hell.”

Gaby covertly ran her eyes over his face and saw the fine lines of fatigue that bracketed his wide, sensual mouth.

Just then he glanced her way and casually looked her over. She swiftly looked away, pretending nonchalance, subtly shifting her legs farther apart, in case he happened to glance down.

“Well, if you need anything—a drink, food, a pillow to rest your poor weary head on—you know where to find me,” the bartender told him and winked one big blue eye and smiled.

Gaby felt the overwhelming desire to throw her half-full glass of martini in the woman’s face, if for no other reason than she was the spitting image of the woman she’d caught screwing her man, hands bound behind her back, having the kind of sex that she never would have imagined Adam was into.

The type of sex that Gaby had secretly been intrigued by, but never had the nerve to engage in.

The woman’s cries of passion still rang in the echoes of her mind.

The bartender leaned down and lifted Sweet’s empty glass. As she did so, her ample breasts pressed against the starched white uniform shirt she was wearing. She had the top three buttons unfastened far enough so that the lacy edge of her demi-bra showed.

Gaby knew the woman wanted Sweet to see just what kind of pillow she was offering for him to lay his “poor weary head on.”

“I’m good. But I’ll keep the offer in mind, Sherri.” He winked back at her.

With one last lingering look at Sweet, the bartender sauntered down to the other end of the bar to serve a customer. Gaby watched Sweet as his eyes stayed glued to Sherri’s swinging hips as she left.

When he turned toward Gaby, she met his eyes.

He smiled and ran his gaze over her body and she knew the minute he saw her bared vulva.

His eyes flew to hers, his sensual lips stretching up into a lazy grin, and she knew she’d gotten his attention.

Pushing down the churning in her gut, Gaby wet her lips and smiled, her lips twitching in nervousness as she tried to maintain what she hoped passed as cool sophistication.

He pushed away from the counter and sauntered close to her.

Gaby kept her smile determinedly in place and maintained eye contact.

When he brushed past her, her heart sank and she felt like a damn fool.

She sighed glumly, turned around, clamped her legs together with a snap, and took another drink of her martini.

“Meet me upstairs, in my loft. Use the elevator near the kitchen entry, past the double doors,” a deep voice whispered against her ear.

Gaby spun around and caught herself before she flipped out of the chair.

“Wha-what?” she stuttered out the response.

“That is, if you’re serious about what you’re promising.”

His heated glance slid over her body like warm rain, his gaze settling between her legs, sending goose bumps to pepper her exposed arms and an ache of need to bubble in her stomach.

Her body reacted as though he’d actually touched her; her breath hitched in her throat and her heartbeat slammed against her chest.

“You’ll need this key to reach my loft. It’s my personal elevator. Past the swinging doors, down the hallway to the left.”

He placed a small brass key into her open hand, folding her fingers over it, pressing it into her palm. Without another word he turned around and walked away.

Just like that, he left, without waiting to see if she’d actually follow him. Assuming that all he needed to do was make the suggestion and she’d eagerly jump up and trail after him.

Gaby’s bemused gaze followed his slow ambling walk until he was out of sight before she turned back around.

When her eyes collided with the bartender—Sherri’s—she caught the woman staring at her with a bemused expression, giving Gaby the universal look women gave one another when a fine man chose one over the other.

A “What in the hell does he see in you?” type of look.

Gaby had been two seconds away from jumping up from her stool and hightailing it out of the bar, getting as far away as possible from the promise of what Sweet wanted to do to her, a promise that had been shining brightly in his golden eyes.

Instead, she gave the woman a triumphant grin and eased out of her chair.

Sedately, despite the butterflies churning in her gut, she slowly walked through the crowded club, following Sweet.