watched as he awkwardly picked up his beer with his left hand. Curious, her gaze swung to his right hand and she noticed a cast peeping out from beneath the sleeve of his sweater. He appeared to have broken either his arm or his wrist.
Her eyes narrowed speculatively as he impatiently shoved his fingers through his inky black hair. Nick, whoever he was, did not appear to be in the best of humors. Was his arm painful? she wondered, finding the idea strangely unacceptable. Or maybe something else was bothering him? Maybe he was recovering from a bad relationship? she thought fancifully. Maybe his heart was broken?
Gina’s gaze traced over the sensual line of his lips and mentally jettisoned the idea. He looked like a man who would break hearts, not have his own broken.
Absently, she picked up her spoon and started to eat, her eyes never leaving Nick. He appealed to her on an instinctive level she hadn’t even been aware had existed until now.
Sex, she mocked her own reaction. That was all it was. Plain old animal attraction.
But what an animal Nick was, she thought dreamily. The king of the beasts. Rugged and…
“Here’s your pie, miss,” the waitress’s voice broke into her thoughts.
Gina blinked and looked down, surprised to see that she’d finished her chili.
“Thank you,” Gina said, hoping the woman hadn’t noticed her preoccupation with Nick.
It was a vain hope. The waitress leaned closer and whispered, “That’s our Nick Balfour. He has a place outside-a town. Known him since he was a kid. And his folks before him. And he ain’t got no wife tucked away like some I could mention. You like what you see, kiddo, grab it. Life’s too short not to.”
Gina’s stomach did a sudden flip-flop, and her fingers began to tingle as she imagined what Nick would feel like if she were brave enough to take the woman’s advice and grab him. He’d feel firm and warm and…
“Think about it, kiddo. Like they say, you only go round once.”
“Um, thank you,” Gina muttered.
Satisfied, the waitress gave her a thumbs-up and sauntered off.
Taking a deep breath to slow her racing heart, Gina looked back at Nick. He was staring into his beer as if he expected to find the secret of eternal life written on the bottom of the glass.
There was no getting around it. She found Nick Balfour fascinating, she faced the fact with her usual lack of self-deception. At least, she found his physical appearance fascinating, and she’d very much like to find out if his personality measured up to his body’s promise.
No, nobody could have a personality as great as his body was, she conceded. She simply wanted to see if the personality came anywhere close.
So how did one go about picking up a man in a bar? Gina searched her memory for a clue and came up blank. The situation had never come up before.
Think. She tried to organize her muddled thoughts into a plan. Women have been picking up men since time immemorial. If they can do it, so can you.
Maybe she could make a comment that demanded an answer? Something like what’s a gorgeous hunk like you doing nursing a beer in a backwater bar like this? Gina choked on her coffee at the thought of actually being blasé enough to say something that trite.
There was always the weather or that old chestnut about haven’t we met before. But even if she was willing to try such a clichéd opening, first she had to get close enough to him to do it.
She laid her fork down beside the now-empty pie plate and considered the problem. If she walked over to him and tried to strike up a conversation, and he brushed her off or, even worse, ignored her, she’d be mortified.
But did it really matter if she was embarrassed? She didn’t know any of these people. Did she really care what they thought? No, she didn’t, but she did care what Nick thought, she conceded. It might not make any sense, considering the fact that he was a stranger, but she did care what he thought of her.
She cast a furtive glance at his uncompromising profile. He was still staring into his beer. He certainly wasn’t watching her. She doubted if he’d even seen her when he’d come in. Not really seen her. Men almost never did. She was too tall and too skinny and too…too nondescript to generate much interest in the opposite sex.
Face it, Gina Tessereck, she told herself. You haven’t got what it takes to set masculine hearts ablaze. But it would be nice if she could ignite a spark of interest in just one, she thought wistfully.
She grimaced. The list of what she would like to be different in her life was as long as her arm, and moaning about it wasn’t going to change anything. Only action would change things. And no matter how uncomfortable or embarrassing it might turn out to be, she was determined to change. To grow. She’d given herself until the winter semester at college began to expand her horizons. And she intended to start by traveling and by exploring an emotional relationship with a man.
Compulsively, her gaze returned to Nick. He looked as if he were positively bursting with fantastic possibilities. All she had to do was to have the courage to tap them. Her lips firmed in determination.
Opening her purse, she took out money to pay her bill and dropped it on the table along with a good-size tip for the helpful waitress as she mulled over the problem of making contact with Nick.
She could walk up to the bar and ask the bartender for a bottle of beer to take out with her, she considered. Then, while the bartender was getting it, she could turn to Nick and ask him if he knew of any bed-and-breakfast places nearby. It was a reasonable question to use to start a conversation.
Swallowing nervously, Gina got to her feet. But before she could move toward the bar, someone touched her arm.
Startled, she turned to find herself looking at a slightly overweight, middle-aged man who gave her a leering smile and then ran his eyes over her body with a lascivious look that made her skin crawl.
“I beg your pardon!” Gina gave him her best imitation of her mother’s freezing outrage. “I don’t believe I’ve met you.”
“That’s easy enough to fix. I’m Jim, and who are you, babycakes?”
Gina blinked uncertainly, not sure what to do. Jim wasn’t following the script. He was supposed to retreat in the face of her obvious disinterest. Instead he’d inched closer. Close enough for her to smell the sickly sweet odor of his cologne. Her stomach rolled protestingly.
“I’m not interested,” she muttered, not wanting him near her, but also not wanting to bolt for the door and give up any chance of speaking to Nick Balfour.
“How do you know that? Why don’t you let me buy you a beer, and we can get acquainted?” Jim insisted, seeming to find her nervousness a turn-on.
Nick turned as the whiny pitch of Jim’s voice grated across his nerves. His eyes narrowed speculatively as he saw the woman the older man was trying to pick up. Jim’s taste in women had definitely improved. Not only was she satisfyingly tall, but… His eyes slipped down the length of her slender figure, lingering on the slight thrust of her breasts beneath her dark-green shirt.
He shivered as he imagined the feel of her breast filling his hand. Trying to control his body’s instinctive response to the provocative thought, he forced his gaze upward, only to find that her face was just as intriguing as her body. He studied the slight tilt of her nose with its faint dusting of freckles, which perfectly matched her reddish-brown hair, before moving on to the full curve of her pink lips. They made him long to feel them beneath his own. To find out if they really were as soft and pliable as they looked.
He watched as her face paled in annoyance at Jim’s refusal to take no for an answer. Or was it fear?
Odd, he thought curiously. A woman that attractive should be experienced enough to flatten lechers like Jim without even thinking about it. And yet she didn’t seem to be able to shake him off.