Page 25 of Getting Down to Business

“Okay. Here goes.” He twisted his neck to the side and rolled his shoulders. “Chanda…”

She looked surprised.

“You know my name?”

“Of course, I know your name. I’ve been coming here for like two years. You bring me drinks. I like my fantasies to have names at least. It makes them more realistic.”

She laughed and then waved her hand.

“Sorry. Continue.”

“Chanda,” he repeated and took a breath. “Watching you work captivates me.” At this point, he didn’t even care that he was embarrassing himself. He was a complete ass and this was more than likely going nowhere.

“Oh?”

“Are you completely creeped out yet?” He laughed it off, but knew it sounded bad.

“Oddly, no. Go ahead.”

“Wow. All right.” He folded his arms on the bar and leaned in closer even though no one else was there to hear him. “Even when I’m sitting at the table over there.” He pointed to the corner table. “I can pick out the sound of your laughter over all the other voices and sounds in the bar. It’s not that it’s loud, it’s just the best sound I’ve ever heard and I listen for it so I don’t miss it.”

It was the most truthful thing he’d ever said to a potential date. But why not? He had nothing to lose. Except maybe having to avoid his favorite bar because his drinks would now contain spit. He went in for the kill.

“And every time you smile, I find myself wondering what it would feel like to kiss you with that lip ring. Would it be cold? I mean, it’s metal. But then it’s in your skin and you’d be hot. At least 98.6 degrees, right? So the metal should conduct the heat from your lips—and now I sound like a science teacher.”

While he was babbling, she’d stepped out from the bar and was on his side. Looking at her this closely, his throat worked to swallow.

She was small. Short, but well proportioned. Except for her breasts which were bigger than expected for her stature. She always wore tight T-shirts. Mostly V-necks. She was obviously aware she had a nice rack. He wondered if they were real.

She was smiling at him as she stepped closer.

“Come see for yourself.” For a second, he worried he’d said something out loud regarding her boobs. It took a second for his brain to rewind back to what she could possibly be talking about.

When he thought he’d figured it out, he repeated the process. Surely he’d missed something in the conversation. She couldn’t possibly be suggesting he kiss her to find out what the lip ring felt like.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Kiss me, Doug. It was a nice line. Let’s see if you can bring it home.”

At another time, with another woman, he might have taken a second or two to plan out his approach and technique. But with Chanda, he just acted. Primal need took over in an effort to claim her mouth before she retracted her offer. Which she would do as soon as she remembered who he was.

His lips pressed against hers and his tongue reached out, needing hers. With a soft moan, she melted against him. Those firm but very real breasts pressed up against his chest. His arms wrapped around her tiny waist, and pulled her closer as he tilted his head to deepen the best kiss of his life.

Better than any fantasy he’d ever conjured up, he met her stroke for stroke, not relenting at all.

A horn blew outside, proving this was real. He would never add a horn to his fantasies. It was too distracting. Especially when it went off again.

Stupid cab.

Cab.

Hell. He’d called a cab. The beeping was for him.

Chanda pulled away, a surprised smile on her face.

“Is that for you?”

“No,” he lied. He’d find another one. Or walk. To Queens.