rose up from his seat, belligerent in every way.
Crap . This was bad, really bad.
My mind raced as I anticipated what he was going to do next or how I was going to handle it, though none of it had a chance to come to fruition.
A dark figure appeared out of nowhere, abruptly pushing the aggressive man back into his chair. He was leaning down over him now with his face square up against his, and was saying something, though only loud enough for the two of them to hear.
I contemplated getting in closer to get a better view, or possibly running for cover somewhere out the back, but by the time the thought finished, the mystery man was already upright and taking a step back into view, adjusting the flaps of his black overcoat as though nothing had happened.
It was Dominic Huntington—unmistakably.
7. UP CLOSE and IMPERSONAL
I watched in wonder as the formerly aggressive patron stood up from his chair and lowered his eyes to the ground, repentant, as though he had just sinned in the house of God and was begging for forgiveness. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, at what I had just witnessed. The stark change. It was surreal.
“I’m very s-sorry, miss. Please excuse my rude behavior this evening,” he said, and then turned to Dominic for some sort of sign of approval.
Dominic gave him a slight nod and with that the man rushed out of the bar without even bothering to wait for his friend—Jasper, the lanky one—who got up shortly after, confusion draped over his face, and followed him out of the bar.
It was the darnedest thing.
I veered my eyes back to Dominic to thank him for stepping in like he had, though I immediately lost my train of thought as I took in the man before me.
He was even more stunning up close, dangerously so, with dark, penetrating eyes and smooth skin that seemed to glow in the otherwise unforgiving light. He smiled back at me; a sexy, crooked grin that conspired with the soft curves of his face to make every attribute a contrasting feat—alluring and menacing all at the same time.
“I-I—” I had apparently lost my ability to speak.
His lips curved up, pleased by this reaction. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said and sat down at the now-empty table, his silky voice reverberating through my skin like the pulsation of my favorite song.
“Dominic Huntington.” He held out his hand modestly, coaxing me to come closer to him.
I practically jumped at the chance to touch him. “Jemma Blackburn,” I said, overly perky.
His hand was silky and soft, cool to the touch. I felt a strange sensation as soon as my hand touched his, almost as though my skin were numbing. I shook my head as if to chase away a spell and then remembered my manners.
“Thank you for that,” I said motioning towards the exit. “I don’t know what you told him, but—”
“It was nothing.”
“No, really, thank you,” I repeated meaningfully.
He gave a lazy smile. “It was my pleasure, Jemma.”
My name had never sounded so appealing.
“To be truthful,” he baited, his voice lower now. “I’m happy to have finally had the opportunity to meet you.”
My eyebrows pulled together.
“You must know you’re not particularly an easy person to get next to, Jemma.”
I laughed outright. The idea that somebody that looked like him was having a hard time approaching somebody like me was downright amusing. “Yeah. Right .”
His eyes flared briefly, drawing attention to the thin scar that sliced through his right eyebrow. I wanted to reach out and touch it, comb my finger over it, know its story and burn it into my mind. But I fought back the urge.
“So, um, what can I get for you tonight?” I asked him, reigning myself in. “Anything you want. It’s on me.”
“Anything?” he challenged. His eyes darkened into the kind of stare I was always taught to be weary of. It made my legs want to run away and buckle all at the same time.
“Yes.” The word sailed out way
Crap . This was bad, really bad.
My mind raced as I anticipated what he was going to do next or how I was going to handle it, though none of it had a chance to come to fruition.
A dark figure appeared out of nowhere, abruptly pushing the aggressive man back into his chair. He was leaning down over him now with his face square up against his, and was saying something, though only loud enough for the two of them to hear.
I contemplated getting in closer to get a better view, or possibly running for cover somewhere out the back, but by the time the thought finished, the mystery man was already upright and taking a step back into view, adjusting the flaps of his black overcoat as though nothing had happened.
It was Dominic Huntington—unmistakably.
7. UP CLOSE and IMPERSONAL
I watched in wonder as the formerly aggressive patron stood up from his chair and lowered his eyes to the ground, repentant, as though he had just sinned in the house of God and was begging for forgiveness. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, at what I had just witnessed. The stark change. It was surreal.
“I’m very s-sorry, miss. Please excuse my rude behavior this evening,” he said, and then turned to Dominic for some sort of sign of approval.
Dominic gave him a slight nod and with that the man rushed out of the bar without even bothering to wait for his friend—Jasper, the lanky one—who got up shortly after, confusion draped over his face, and followed him out of the bar.
It was the darnedest thing.
I veered my eyes back to Dominic to thank him for stepping in like he had, though I immediately lost my train of thought as I took in the man before me.
He was even more stunning up close, dangerously so, with dark, penetrating eyes and smooth skin that seemed to glow in the otherwise unforgiving light. He smiled back at me; a sexy, crooked grin that conspired with the soft curves of his face to make every attribute a contrasting feat—alluring and menacing all at the same time.
“I-I—” I had apparently lost my ability to speak.
His lips curved up, pleased by this reaction. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said and sat down at the now-empty table, his silky voice reverberating through my skin like the pulsation of my favorite song.
“Dominic Huntington.” He held out his hand modestly, coaxing me to come closer to him.
I practically jumped at the chance to touch him. “Jemma Blackburn,” I said, overly perky.
His hand was silky and soft, cool to the touch. I felt a strange sensation as soon as my hand touched his, almost as though my skin were numbing. I shook my head as if to chase away a spell and then remembered my manners.
“Thank you for that,” I said motioning towards the exit. “I don’t know what you told him, but—”
“It was nothing.”
“No, really, thank you,” I repeated meaningfully.
He gave a lazy smile. “It was my pleasure, Jemma.”
My name had never sounded so appealing.
“To be truthful,” he baited, his voice lower now. “I’m happy to have finally had the opportunity to meet you.”
My eyebrows pulled together.
“You must know you’re not particularly an easy person to get next to, Jemma.”
I laughed outright. The idea that somebody that looked like him was having a hard time approaching somebody like me was downright amusing. “Yeah. Right .”
His eyes flared briefly, drawing attention to the thin scar that sliced through his right eyebrow. I wanted to reach out and touch it, comb my finger over it, know its story and burn it into my mind. But I fought back the urge.
“So, um, what can I get for you tonight?” I asked him, reigning myself in. “Anything you want. It’s on me.”
“Anything?” he challenged. His eyes darkened into the kind of stare I was always taught to be weary of. It made my legs want to run away and buckle all at the same time.
“Yes.” The word sailed out way
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