Just One Night - Carolyn Faulkner Page 0,1

him do as he asked.

"You don't have to do that, but thank you."

"I know I don't," he replied smoothly. "But please allow me to anyway. There are no strings attached in the least. I would love to have your company at my table, but my offer implies no obligation on your part to do so whatsoever. I just felt like buying everyone in the bar a drink."

Her wry grin at that deliberately facetious statement gave him a warm, largely unfamiliar feeling north of the parts that were causing him a problem at the moment. She really wasn't technically pretty, but when she smiled, she was a knockout.

The snark just fell out of her mouth automatically. "Such unbridled generosity, since," she looked around her at the empty bar, "we're the only two in here."

"Barkeep, please pour one for yourself, too," he announced without looking away from her. "And there is no implied obligation to you, either."

"Thanks, dude."

"Dude" was a word she would never have associated with him.

"Wow—your generosity knows no bounds!" she teased.

He inclined his head toward her, daring to say, with no hint of irony, "You're welcome."

Her drink was untouched at the moment. She really didn't want to get into anything with this guy… she didn't think, anyway.

He was all hard lines, and she was bad divorce soft. She couldn't think that would be a good mix at all, or perhaps she thought they might mix entirely too well for her mental health. Since she and her husband—to whom she much less than affectionately referred to as "the idiot,” in her mind, anyway—had split, she'd been alone, by choice.

Well, that wasn't really true. She was alone because she refused to put herself out there again. She'd wasted too many years of her life with a man she thought she loved, and who she thought loved her, but had proved, over and over again, that he didn't. She was frankly ashamed that even his serial cheating wasn't enough to get her to call it quits.

When she'd been with him, she was afraid of being alone. And now that she was alone, she was afraid of being with anyone. She'd always been the self-confident type—with or without cause. But her judgment where men were concerned was obviously severely flawed, and she didn't feel as if she could trust herself to pick one now who wasn't going to subject her to such behavior. Or worse, what if she ended up with someone who physically abused her? Would she be strong enough to leave him, or would she just put up with it, like she had the endless stream of other women?

No. She had long since come to the conclusion that, for her own safety and peace of mind, she needed to be alone for a while. Perhaps permanently—she wasn't sure about that yet.

She did miss being a part of a couple, occasionally, but being a misanthrope had its advantages. She was rarely attracted to anyone—never anyone at first sight. Although the man behind her would probably have to be credited with breaking that streak, regardless of how unsuited he was to her usual tastes.

She took the drink and raised her glass to him. "Thank you."

His nod was imperious, but the slight grin worked to make it less offensive than it might have been.

He watched her turn her back to him again without a second thought and pursed his lips. That wasn't quite how he'd wanted it to go, but he would keep his word. A few moments later, he rose to use the facilities. And when he returned, she was sitting at his table.

He was very surprised to see her there but gave no sign of it. Instead, he strode up to her with a big, long-fingered hand extended toward her. "I'm Rad."

She stood but couldn't resist asking, "Really?"

He could feel himself blushing a little and heartily wished he wasn't. "Yes, I know. I sound full of myself. But it's short for Radames."

"What a great name! So, were your parents into opera or Egyptian history?"

"Both, I would say."

"Very cool."

"And yours is?"

"Very not cool." She wasn't sure why, but she steeled herself a little before putting her hand in his. "I'm Andrea. My friends call me Andy."

Rad kept his eyes on hers the entire time they were shaking hands, watching her cheeks color prettily as he did so. "It's very nice to meet you, Andrea. And although I would love to become your friend, I'm not going to call you Andy."

Oh dear God, he