and the stripper on stage was young and athletic and, in her uneducated opinion, very good at his job. She felt slightly uncomfortable appreciating the ‘talent’ of the much younger men on stage but considering she was hardly the oldest female in the room, and she was certainly not the loudest in voicing her appreciation, she decided she would be rude not to enjoy the show.
By the time the set came to a close the green hue of the drink was starting to make her feel a bit nauseous. She wasn’t used to drinking much, her job didn’t really allow for it, and she knew if she didn’t make sure to drink some water she’d regret it in the morning.
‘I think I need something other than alcohol,’ she told Mel. ‘I’m going to the bar. Do you want anything?’
Mel shook her head as Scarlett pushed her chair back and stood up, pleased to find she could feel her toes again after resting her feet. She picked her way through the tables, dodging the good-looking, scantily clad waiting staff. She didn’t want to make eye contact with them but there didn’t seem to be any other polite place to look as she made her way across the room.
The bar staff was all cut from the same cloth as the waiters. They were all men, all shirtless and all cute. Not one of them had any chest hair or any body fat. They were all waxed and tanned and gorgeous and Scarlett gave them each a quick once-over before they had time to notice her.
The barman closest to her was slicing lemons. He was about three feet away and standing in profile to her. He had a sculpted jaw, small ears and brown hair, cut shorter at the sides and longer on top, that he’d obviously run some product through with his fingers to keep it spiked up. The deejay was playing a faster-tempo dance number now and all the barmen were moving to the music. Nothing choreographed, their movements looked natural and Scarlett wondered if they even knew they were dancing. She watched his hips as he kept time to the beat. His abdominal muscles flexed as he twisted to reach another lemon, drawing her attention away from his butt. His skin was smooth and tanned and his triceps tensed as he slid the knife through the flesh.
He finished dissecting the last lemon and scraped the slices into a bowl, using the back of the knife. He slid the cutting board into a sink as he twirled the knife through his fingers. Scarlett held her breath and watched as the light reflected off the blade. She gasped as he lost control of the knife and it left his hand and spun through the air. She watched it fall and waited for it to hit the floor, waited for it to stab into something it shouldn’t.
It landed on the floor behind the barman, where it lay innocuously on the rubber matting. No harm, no foul, but he’d heard her gasp and before he retrieved the knife he turned to look at her. He grinned. A cheeky, quick smile that lit up his face and made Scarlett think he made a habit of mucking around and that he didn’t mind getting caught.
He held her gaze and winked at her. Scarlett blushed and quickly broke eye contact but when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn around to pick up the knife she automatically went back for a second look. His jeans had stretched firmly across his butt and Scarlett couldn’t help but admire him. His buttocks were round and firm and the denim of his pants moulded perfectly to his backside.
She was still looking as he stood up and turned to face her, catching her by surprise. Her blush deepened and she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been checking him out but luckily he didn’t seem offended if his broad grin was anything to go by. He didn’t seem to mind being stared at but, then, why should he? He was gorgeous and probably very used to it. She didn’t imagine she was the first woman to have been caught perving on him.
He ran the knife under hot water and put it to one side. He grabbed a tea towel to dry his hands and then tucked the towel into the waistband of his jeans. Scarlett’s eyes followed his movements. His jeans were loose at his hips and as he shoved the tea towel under his waistband the movement pushed his jeans even lower, giving her a glimpse of the diagonal line of his inguinal ligament. When she realised what she was doing she quickly raised her eyes, only to find he was still watching her.
He took three steps and came to a stop in front of her. He was still grinning and Scarlett was flustered, unsettled and unsure where to look.
‘What can I get you?’ he asked.
His voice was deep but quiet and she found herself leaning towards him as she tried to hear what he was saying. They were separated only by a few inches now and his features came into sharp relief, almost as though he’d been projected onto a glass pane in front of her. His green eyes were deep set and as he looked at her it seemed he could see what she was thinking.
His bottom lip was full even while he was smiling and his nose was perfectly straight, flaring slightly at the bottom into a small triangle. His chin and jaw were shaped like the bottom of a flawlessly proportioned pentagon and the angles of his face gave him an almost perfectly symmetrical appearance. His tanned shoulders were dusted with freckles and his jaw was lightly stubbled, and at close range he looked older than she’d first thought. But he was still young, mid-twenties maybe, definitely younger than her. Not that his age mattered. Sure, he was cute and his body was divine and he certainly looked like he would know how to show a woman a good time, but it was irrelevant to her.
Sexy young strip-club barmen were not her thing, even if they did have the ability to disconnect her brain and make her struggle to speak. He was waiting patiently for her answer and if he could read her thoughts, as she suspected, he was no doubt amused by her lack of reply.
‘May I have a glass of water, please?’ she managed to ask, just as if it looked like he was about to repeat his question.
Her words sounded strange and she could feel her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth but she wasn’t a hundred per cent sure it was from the alcohol. It could also be because of the half-naked man standing in front of her. She’d seen plenty of naked or semi-naked bodies before but it wasn’t every day that one as fine as this appeared before her. Was it any wonder she was struggling to think clearly, let alone speak?
He turned and scooped ice into a glass with his left hand and Scarlett caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the inside of his left biceps, several inky black marks making a dark impression against his skin. He turned to pick up a slice of lemon from the bowl he’d just filled, obscuring his tattoo from view. He dropped the lemon onto the ice and grinned at her as it hit the cubes. His hips kept time with the music as he filled the glass with water and Scarlett’s stomach did a peculiar flip as she watched. He looked completely comfortable in his skin and there was something very sensual about his movements.
‘Anything else I can do for you?’ he asked, as he placed the glass on the bar. His eyes swept over her face, from her eyes to her lips and down to her chest as he spoke to her. Scarlett knew the neck on her dress was high enough that there was no hint of cleavage but she blushed as if she was the one standing there half-naked, not him. His swift gaze was practised, she had no doubt he had plenty of experience at giving women a quick once over, but even she could see the appreciation in his eyes. She could feel her pulse beating between her thighs, and she could feel it getting stronger as the heat in his gaze intensified.
She swallowed and reached for the glass, only to find he hadn’t let go of it yet. Her fingers touched his and a surge of electricity shot through her. She snatched her hand back as if the glass was hot instead of filled with ice-cold water.
He was smiling at her again as he pushed the glass closer before removing his hand. His green eyes laughed at her but not unkindly as he asked, ‘First time?’
She looked at him in mute surprise. There was no room in her head for conversation as unfamiliar hormones ran rampant through her bloodstream.
‘I’d remember if I’d seen you before,’ he added, and Scarlett wondered if the bar staff relied on tips. That would explain why he was being so friendly.
But water was free, wasn’t it? There was no need to tip and, therefore, no need for him to flirt with her. She’d never had a stranger flirt with her. She wasn’t really the type. She knew it was because she never encouraged eye contact, she didn’t have the knack of catching or holding someone’s attention. She knew the barman had only noticed her because she’d gasped when he’d