Good with His Hands. Tanya MichaelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
that sounds dramatic. Like, you’re fleeing the country from bad guys and need to tell me you’ve left something important in a bus-station locker. Or you’re going to ask me whether you should cut the blue wire or the red wire.”
Dani laughed. Apparently, all the action movies she made her friend watch had left an impression. “I went into the office today, and Hot Architect was there! Well, Gray.” In the military, nicknames were common; she rarely thought anything of using them. But calling him Gray felt intimate and gave her a rush of pleasure. “Short for his last name, Grayson.”
“You’re already on a nickname basis?” Meg asked, sounding impressed. “You work fast.”
You don’t know the half of it. “I have to tell you something, and if you love me, you won’t talk me out of this.”
“This promises to be good,” Meg said cheerfully. “And I think we both know I’m the ‘jump out of the plane, worry about the parachute on the way down’ friend. You’re the voice of reason who talks me out of things. Or tries to—I rarely listen to good sense.”
Maybe Meg’s “seize the day” attitude is rubbing off on me. “Gray’s in the car behind me right now, following me to the bar in front of my complex. And if things go well over drinks...”
Meg let out a squeal of delight. “You’re taking him home with you!”
“I haven’t decided for sure.” The hell you haven’t, her libido argued. “Would sleeping with him be completely crazy?” Not that sane had gotten her anywhere, except dumped and relocated to a crappy apartment.
“Crazy’s what you need tonight. Celebrate your freedom! Instead of tying the knot, you can tie up Hot Architect.”
Dani grinned. “So much for any worry that you might judge me for seducing a stranger.” Despite how often their paths crossed, she knew almost nothing about him.
“No judging! But for safety’s sake, check in with me tonight and again in the morning. If I don’t get proof of life, I’m showing up at your place with Nolan.”
Morning? Recalling how good Gray looked in his black T-shirt, she shivered. What would it be like to wake up in those muscular arms? Assuming he was the kind of guy who stayed the night instead of leaving afterward.
“I’m not getting up early just so I can run out for a paper with the date on it and send you a picture,” Dani joked, “but I will text you.” She was grateful to have someone who looked out for her. The two of them had met in the waiting area of a salon four years ago, striking up conversation over the trials of curly hair in a humid climate, and now they were as close as sisters. Meg had even tried to fix up Dani with one of her brothers, saying that if things worked out they could be sisters-in-law.
“I’m keeping my phone by me for the rest of the night,” Meg said. “And hoping for salacious details.”
Dani braked at a red light, swallowing hard. The bar was on the left just on the other side of the intersection. “I’m about to turn into the parking lot.”
“Okay. All kidding aside, there’s something you should consider. As your best friend, I have to ask...are you wearing good first-impression underwear? Please tell me it’s something from the store!” Meg extended Dani a special friends-and-family discount.
Dani laughed, her nerves dissipating. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m wearing plain cotton. The set matches. Do I at least get credit for that?”
Would Gray have preferred something lacy and silk to the basic sky-blue pieces? Then again, depending on how the evening went, maybe she wouldn’t be wearing them for long.
* * *
DANI CONGRATULATED HERSELF on fitting the car into such a narrow parking space—it was admirable that she’d done a precision job considering her shaky hands and accelerated pulse. She figured the adrenaline in her system was one part nerves, two parts sheer sexual anticipation. By the time she’d taken a deep breath and gathered her purse, Gray had reached her driver-side door.
He opened the door for her and extended his hand to help her out of the car. Old-fashioned gallantry, or was he simply as eager to touch her as she was him? His fingers grazed her palm, which she’d never considered a sensitive part of her body before today. Now, sensation shivered through her.
“Thanks,” she said, hearing the slight, breathless catch in her voice.
“It seemed like the chivalrous thing to do.” Though his expression remained deadpan, wicked humor glinted in his eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to think you were out with less than a perfect gentleman.”
“Honestly? I’d rather spend tonight with an imperfect one.”
That earned her a low, rich laugh. “Then you definitely have the right guy.”
As she preceded him inside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The bar had a cool, cave-like feel, with few windows overlooking the parking lot and street. But it was a classy cave—no smoke or scarred tables—boasting a quality list of domestic and imported beers.
Gray looked around. “Private booth, or would you rather sit at the bar?”
As nice as the private part sounded, she felt too restless to sit. Being this close to him had her buzzing with energy. “Third option—pool table. Do you play?”
“Yeah.” He smiled sheepishly. “But I should warn you, I can get pretty competitive.”
Something else they had in common. “That’s okay. My friend Meg says I redefine the word.” Dani had taken a game night with the Raffertys a little too seriously last summer, and Meg’s family still teased her about it. But Major Yates had raised his daughter to be goal oriented. Sportsmanship had been more of an afterthought.
Gray smirked. “Then this should be interesting.”
At the bar, they asked about table availability and got a set of balls. Cues and racks hung by the tables. The cashier assured them a waitress frequently circulated the pool area and would take their drink orders soon. To the right of the main seating area, a short set of stairs led down to a recessed pool hall. The row of six pool tables was separated from the rest of the bar with a railed half wall. The opposite wall was completely mirrored, reflecting a rainbow of neon from various beer signs.
Two of the tables were still vacant, and Dani went immediately to the one farthest from other players. A drink menu sat on the railing between a couple of leather-topped stools. Gray picked it up, flipping through the laminated pages.
“You want a look at this?” he asked.
She shook her head, gaze locked on his. “Not necessary. I know exactly what I want.”
Being cheated on was tough on a girl’s self-esteem. But with one steamy glance, Gray managed to restore any confidence she’d lost over the past month. For a second, he looked dazed, and it was heady, having an effect on a man so ridiculously sexy.
He recovered quickly. “Well, don’t be shy. Let’s hear it.”
You. On that pool table. “Draft beer.”
“So you don’t go for the froufrou drinks?” He tilted his chin toward a waitress at the far end of the pool hall. On her tray were two foamy drinks in varying shades of pink and something bright blue in a glass the size of a small fishbowl, complete with a swizzle stick of impaled fruit.
“Drinks with paper umbrellas have their place,” Dani said. “Like, if I’m poolside at some tropical resort. Champagne—expensive champagne—is for when I close on a high-dollar property, tequila shots are for bad breakups, sangria is for TV show marathons with my best friend. But draft beer is for when I’m about to kick some guy’s ass in eight ball.”
“Then maybe you should be more concerned about the right drink for when you fall a dismal second.”
She