Business Casual

So far, the brilliant, tart flavor of my red wine was the only thing going right today. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was my signature on the divorce papers, finalized as of just a few hours ago.

Happy holidays to me.

Finnigan’s pub wasn’t too busy for a Tuesday evening, at least. I took the opportunity to stretch my legs across the ugly tan loveseat, relieving my throbbing feet.

I know, I know, the pain was my own fault for wearing six-inch heels. But these shoes were worth it—jet-black, pointy-toed pumps that always gave my confidence a boost. If I was going to be single for the first time in almost a decade, I wanted to look hot.

A tiny electric heater on the wall showed off a flickering image of a fireplace. Not as good as the real thing—but the waltzing orange “flames” were cheerful, and the smoldering heat was enough to toast my bare thighs below the hem of my black bodycon dress.

Pool balls clattered behind me every so often, and I could hear the low hum of some crappy tune coming from the jukebox. Still, this cozy little nook felt insulated from the rest of the bar, perfect for some quality alone time.

“What’s an angel like you doing in a place like this?” a manly voice asked.

I glanced up, doing a double take when I caught the stranger’s molten dark-chocolate eyes. He was built solidly, with tanned skin, and he shot me a grin as he towered above me. His short, brown hair appeared nearly black in the dim lighting.

Though bronzed leather covered his arms, I could tell he was dedicated to lifting iron. Those biceps were thick, muscular, and might as well be featured in a magazine.

Still, I wasn’t in the mood to be hit on, not even by a man this hot.

“Just curious”—I cocked a brow—“does that line always work for you?”

“Evidently not, because you haven’t invited me to sit down yet.” He gestured at where my lengthy legs were covering the cushions. “Do you mind?”

“Yeah,” I said, “I do, actually.”

I expected him to take the hint and leave, but instead he seized my ankles and slid under my legs, parking himself on the sofa with my thighs resting on his lap. He shot me a smile.

“Well, don’t you just have balls the size of grapefruits?” I said sarcastically.

“If you’re impressed with those, you should see what they’re attached to.”

“I’m Tony Martinez,” he said, grinning through his short goatee.

The nerve of this guy. How dare he interrupt me while I was busy moping into my Cabernet? How dare he put his hands on me, let alone leave them there?

“My name’s Holly,” I lied. My name’s Evangeline Beckett, but I don’t give it out to random pushy strangers in bars.

I should have reclaimed my legs and left, but I wasn’t ready to go back to my parents’ house. They’d just yammer on about how I needed to get back out there and find a new man so I wouldn’t die alone. No, better to hide out here until they were safely in bed.

“So, what brings you to good ol’ Vermont?” Tony asked.

I furrowed my brows, taking a sip of wine. “How do you know I don’t live here?”

“Because if there were a woman who looked like you living in Burlington, I would’ve found her ages ago,” he said, smirking.

My parents were probably signing for my luggage right now. I’d packed as many pencil skirts and dresses as possible inside my three suitcases; I was set to start a new job tomorrow at Vázquez and Associates, the top law firm in Vermont.

Sadly, the only job available had been as a secretary for the CEO, Samuel Vázquez. I really wasn’t looking forward to starting over in an entry-level job when I’d been running my own business for years. Yet another reason why this whole divorce thing sucked.

“So, don’t get me wrong”—Tony’s gaze ambled along my legs—“that dress is smokin’ on you, but judging by your color choice, you either just went to a funeral or got dumped.”

“Close.” I paused, taking another sip. “Divorced. I just signed the papers today.”

His eyes widened, looking like melted chocolate pouring over parchment. “No…”

Tony’s forehead pinched. “Pardon my language, but that asshole’s got a screw loose. Why go out for burgers when you’ve got steak at home?”

“If you wanna get technical, he didn’t go out, but I appreciate the sentiment,” I said, finishing my last drop of Cabernet.

“Well, just so you know, ~I could eat steak all night long,” he said, smiling as he threw me a slow, heated look.

I blushed. I had to admit, it was nice to be admired.

“Another red?” he asked, pointing at my empty glass.

I smirked. “Well, look at you, try-hard.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “A woman as gorgeous as you has a way of making a man determined.”

I nodded, and Tony flagged down the bartender, whom he seemed to know well. “A Jack Daniels, please, Jarred, and one of whatever the lady’s drinking.”

“The Cabernet,” I reminded Jarred, though with so few people in the bar, he probably remembered my earlier order.

“You got it,” he said, and returned a few minutes later with both our drinks.

“So,” I said to Tony, eager to get the attention off me and my sad life, “what’s got you here all alone on a Tuesday night?”

He hummed over his glass of whiskey. “That’s a touchy subject.”

Now I was intrigued. What kind of skeletons did this gorgeous man have stashed in his closet? “Come on,” I begged, batting my lashes and purposely shifting my calf over his groin. “Tell me.”

He frowned at me for a moment before relenting. “I’m hiding. My parents invited my ex-wife, Carla, into town for Christmas. She was part of our lives for ten years, so I get it, but I’d still like to avoid talking to her for as long as possible.”

Ex-wife… So, either Tony was a player like my ex, or he knew exactly what I was going through.

“And what’s worse, she’s bringing her new husband.”

Wow. I couldn’t imagine how I’d react if Greg came to my parents’ house for Christmas, let alone if he brought his mistress.

“Well, not to be blunt, but… lucky me,” I said with a smirk.

“How so?” he asked.

“Because if you were still married, you might not be here keeping my legs warm.”

“Such nice legs shouldn’t be left out in the cold,” Tony said, tenderly caressing the underside of my calf.

We stared at each other hungrily. All my body heat rushed between my thighs, thawing my icy unwillingness into molten enthusiasm.

It had been a long few months of lawyers, paperwork, and asset division as I tried to close out the life I’d built with my ex. My self-confidence was shot. Maybe a mind-blowing orgasm was just what I needed to haul myself out of this rut.

I’d never have to see this guy again, after all.

“I have a question for you, Tony…”

“Ask away, Holly,” he said, setting his empty glass on the table beside the couch.

“Are you gonna take me home or not?” I asked, letting myself be bold.

He bit his lip. “I would love to take you home,” he said. “But unfortunately, my house is undergoing some renovations, so it’s a mess. I don’t want to subject you to that.”

Tony scooted closer, and I raised my hips to let him. I was basically sitting sideways on his lap now, making it easy to feel the bulge in his jeans growing firmer against my ass by the second.

His palm slowly slid up the interior of my thigh, sending sparks through my stomach as his other arm cradled my back.

I clutched my empty wine glass against my chest, trembling with anticipation. He leaned his face so close to mine that I could smell the whiskey on his breath, thick and heady.

His lips brushed over mine, just a whisper of a kiss, but it was enough to make me shiver. Goosebumps sprang up over every inch of my skin as I lusted for more contact.

The Cabernet and whiskey formed a marvelous concoction only Tony and I had the luxury of tasting. My panties were soaked beneath my dress now. I was sure Tony could tell; his fingers were scant inches away from touching me where I needed it most.

His lips pulled from mine, only to whisper a question. “Where does that leave us then, Holly?”

Good question. I hadn’t kissed a man other than my ex-husband in more than ten years. Call me desperate, but I was thirsty to see what else Tony had to offer.

“Ladies’ room,” I said, nodding over my shoulder toward the hallway by the jukebox. “Meet me in two minutes.”

“Classy lady…,” he whispered across my lips.

I bristled. “Hey, if you don’t want to—”

“No, I do,” Tony interrupted. “I’ll be there.”

I climbed from his lap, very aware of where his gaze dipped as I stood up. My heels clacked across the hardwood as I headed to the bathroom, deliberately adding an extra sway in my hips.

I’d never done anything like this before. Never had sex in a bathroom, let alone in the bathroom of my local hometown bar. But goddamn if that didn’t just make it sexier.