Charming You (Thirsty Hearts Book 1) (5 page)

N
ick walked
into the restaurant and scanned the bar area. No Micky yet.

Their table wasn't ready, so he nudged his way through the last stragglers of the happy hour crowd to secure a spot at the bar and order a drink. Looking again at the bar patrons, he made eye contact with a slender blonde a few feet away.

She had the Dallas hair, the Dallas smile, and the Dallas boobs to match. She gave a look that probably passed for coy in her mind. To him, it was a pure sexual appraisal. He took it in, but glanced away. It had been a while since he was free to pursue the many women in Dallas' social scene who gave him looks like that at bars. The woman reminded him of Vivienne—only less well-heeled.

Thoughts of skinny blondes evaporated when he turned around and saw Micky—with her smoky hazel eyes, red lips, and curvy, delicious body. She walked toward him. Suddenly, it hit him that he was playing with fire. He should have a simple drink so he could strike up a friendly conversation about Azur. That's it.

Instead, Nick couldn't peel his eyes from the way her black pencil skirt hugged her hips. The skirt wasn't short, but a creamy line of leg extended down to a pair of black heels. Her outfit was all business, but Nick's mind had wandered far from business. Nick found himself wondering how her long legs would feel wrapped around him.

"Hi," she said. "Long time no see."

Nick determined to keep his mind on track. Charm her. Be nice to her. Get her to open up—her mind, not her legs. "What happened with the hot date?"

"Too soon to tell."

Her eyes lit up with mischievous flirtation. Nick opened his mouth to answer her, but all speech left him. He smiled and thanked God when the bartender slid a martini glass in front of Micky and gave him a reprieve.

"Micky! Doll, are you working too hard? I haven't seen you since the Memorial Day party." The bartender gave her hand a pat. Micky rolled her eyes, but smiled.
Who the hell is this guy?

"If I don't work, how will I afford my martinis?" Micky picked up the cloudy, chilled vodka martini spiked with an olive and took a sip. "Nick, this is Andy, the owner. Andy, this is Nick. He...he works in my building."

Andy extended his hand over the bar, and Nick paused for a split second before shaking it firmly. The two men surveyed each other. Nick didn't know what to make of his familiarity with Micky. Andy obviously knew her well enough not only to know her drink, but to deliver it without prompting along with flattery and what Nick thought was a cheesy grin. Did she fall for this stuff?

"When you said you'd been here a time or two..."

"A few hundred times may have been more accurate," she confessed. "Since you wanted to try it, I knew it'd be a great place to meet."

"Micky and her friends are some of my regulars. Although it's been tapering off lately with this one," Andy said. "You better ease up on work, girl. You know what they say about all work and no play."

"I don't see her getting dull anytime soon. Can I get a Macallan with a couple drops of water? Then, I can probably settle up. Our table should be ready soon," Nick said. With those terse words, he reached for his wallet. When he imagined how the evening would go, he didn't anticipate a second guy. Jealousy barked at him. Maybe he wasn't here to romance Micky, but this guy had no way of knowing that. Woof. Nick had to stay focused. He needed information—not another girlfriend.

"Whoa," Micky said, interrupting Nick's self-chastisement. "My treat, remember? This is a thank-you drink."

"You'll have to get him the next one. These are on the house, and let me know if you need anything. Make sure this one has some fun," Andy said, laughing in Micky's direction while he poured Nick's Scotch.

Nick thought about arguing over the free drinks. He clamped his mouth shut. It was no big deal.

"Thanks," Nick said, grabbing his drink. "I'll take that as my personal mission for the evening."

M
icky met
his eyes and smiled, lifting her brows as she took her drink from the bar and looked over her shoulder. Elle, the hostess, beckoned them to the hostess stand.

"You ready for your table?" Elle asked as they approached her.

"Definitely," Micky replied. Elle gave Nick a good looking over before leading them to a table in a quiet corner of the expansive dining room. Micky slipped into the booth opposite Nick and blushed as Elle flashed her a surreptitious thumbs up. Micky hoped Nick hadn't noticed and sipped her martini.

The evening had stumbled to an awkward start. Andy's classic friendly, teasing demeanor helped his restaurant's success. He laughed it up with the guys and flirted harmlessly with the ladies. Andy no longer had any interest in Micky beyond that. If he did, Elle would have his head. They'd been living together for a couple of years. Nick seemed to think…well, she didn't know what he thought.

"They make a good couple," Micky commented, turning her striking hazel eyes up at him over the rim of her martini glass.

"Who?"

"Andy and Elle."

"The hostess?"

"Uh, huh." Another sip. The martini hit her a little faster than usual. She needed to eat.

Micky watched Nick's eyes swivel with from the hostess, to the bar, and then back to her. She suppressed a smile as he spoke.

"I suppose they do. How long have you known Andy?"

"About eight years. We dated five or six years ago. He's a great guy, but not for me."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. He'd just opened this place and was working every night until three or four in the morning. Not my kind of lifestyle."

"What is your kind of lifestyle? Your type?" Nick inquired.

"Oh, pretty basic. Have a day job. No criminal record. And he has to be able to spell. I was a journalism major. Spelling is very important."

Nick laughed. "Do you have a spelling test in your purse?"

"I don't know. Is this an official date? I thought I was buying you dinner to thank you for helping me with my car."

"This is a friendly conversation over a drink, which you owe me. But I'm buying you dinner."

"Chauvinist."

"I prefer to think of myself as a gentleman."

The word "gentleman" triggered Micky's curiosity about the supposed fiancée.

"Hmmm…I'm not sure. I've heard some things," she said.

"Like what?" Nick shifted in his seat.

She regarded him closely to gauge his reaction. "Like that you're engaged to be married next summer."

Nick's face went still and Micky felt a twinge of disappointment.

"I was engaged. My fiancée called it off," Nick explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Micky sensed he told the truth.

"Thanks."

"How long ago?"

"How long ago did she break it off? Four months ago," he said simply in a tone that told Micky a change of subject and lightening of the mood was in order.

"Now we've established that. You aren't engaged. I'm not involved with the owner of this place. We're just two single people. Hungry, single people. Or at least I am. We should order."

"We should." With that, Nick gave Micky a sparkling smile, and they settled into a comfortable conversation about her upcoming trip to Paris and how they got started in their respective careers.

"I don't know how I ended up working in technology. In college, I had dreams of breaking news as a hard-nosed reporter. I worked at the paper in Lubbock for a year, hated it, and ended up getting a job as a copywriter at a marketing company. Then, I found my way to an in-house position at Azur a few years ago. I like it. The market is tough, but we're growing."

"What do you sell?"

"Communications software. We target mostly small and medium businesses who need smaller systems and more technical assistance with implementation and maintenance." Micky laughed. "I don't want to bore you with the details. What type of law do you practice?"

"Corporate. It's like what you used to do. I help the in-house departments. My group specializes in mergers and acquisitions."

"That must be interesting."

"It can be. Nothing that's changing as quickly as technology, though. Before I went to law school, I worked in the finance department of a computer company."

Micky sighed. "It does change very quickly. We've bought up a few smaller software companies to get new customers. The expansion has been difficult sometimes. I'd hoped it was settling down. I'm sure you know since you work in that area."

"Most of the time, I'm leaving right as the companies come together. I miss most of the fireworks. It sounds like your situation isn't smoothing out like you'd hoped. Are there more acquisitions in the works?"

Micky paused. The in-depth details of the company integrations weren't for public consumption.

"That's not an issue. Things are going well. I have opportunities to advance," she said. "It's stressful sometimes juggling all the work, but I'm happy there."

"That's great. Soon you'll be running the place. How was your family dinner on Friday?" Nick asked.

"It went as well as it possibly could. My brother is close to proposing to his girlfriend. He wanted his mom to get to know her. My stepmother isn't the easiest person to impress."

"Your stepmother?"

"Technically, she's not my stepmother, but I spent time with her, visiting Pete when I was little. He's my half-brother. My father was married to his mother, and then they divorced, and my dad married my mom. Then, more divorces, more remarriages. Ten marriages between the three of them." Micky rolled her eyes.

"Ten?" Nick was incredulous.

"Yes. Ten. But just the two of us kids—me and my half-brother. We're close even though once my mother divorced his father, I left with my mom. I think I found leaving Pete sadder than the divorce itself. Life wasn't the same without my big brother."

Micky smiled as she said it, but inside she remembered crying at night under the covers so her mother wouldn't hear. Her parents were so self-involved neither one had much time to attend to a seven-year-old girl and her desire to play board games and Barbies.

"Pete was seven years older, but he always made time to drag out
Operation
or checkers whenever I asked. He would help me stage grand plays with my dolls, and he helped me paint my room bright purple when I was ten. Purple was my favorite color. Every time I moved to a new place, I'd always have to paint my room. It helped keep some things the same throughout my mom's rather colorful marital life. What about your parents?"

"My father passed away when I was nine."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here I am complaining about my parents."

"Don't worry. It's fine. I'm lucky to have the family I have. My mom worked hard to make sure we didn't miss out on much."

"Is your sister younger or older?"

"Younger. I was the man of the house."

The light tone Nick adopted couldn't hide his sense of duty.

"You feel responsible for your sister," Micky said. She understood that. Pete took his role as the reliable man in her life as seriously as a good father.

"Sure, and for my mom. She's getting older. She had a fall over a year ago and hurt her hip and back. She had to retire. It's time for me to pay her back."

"What did she do?"

Nick hesitated, lifting his chin. "She owned a cleaning business."

"Like a maid service?"

"Not exactly. Her company cleaned commercial properties like office buildings and hotels. She started out as a housekeeper; then she went out on her own with some friends. It's never been a big moneymaker, but she supported us after my dad died."

Micky's mother, Lillian Burrows, never had an occupation. Her work was staying in shape and keeping her husbands happy, but being the fun, trophy wife isn't something you put on a resume. Micky had every advantage growing up but sometimes felt like that was a side note to her parents' getting what they wanted. Her stepfathers paid the bills. Her dad gave her presents, but was never present.

"You adore her. I can tell." Micky grinned, and Nick returned the smile.

"I do. She drives me crazy, but I wouldn't trade her for anything. The fall scared me. I have to make sure that she's has what she needs."

"Do they still live here in Dallas?"

"Sure. My sister is here with her family. She has a husband and two daughters. I don't have that, so I can focus all my energy on making sure my mother stays out of trouble."

"Who keeps you out of trouble?"

"They split duty on that, I think. What about you?"

"Hmm. I don't know that Pete's too good about keeping me in line, but he looks out for me. It's funny. I used to wish Pete had been a girl. I'd go visit my dad in the summer and try to make Pete go shopping with me and help me pick out makeup. He was pretty good about taking me, although I think it became an excuse for him to go to the mall and flirt with older girls at the food court. There was one at the Orange Julius he was particularly fond of."

Nick laughed. "Mall girls were hot. Cute uniforms and ponytails. Plus, they wore name tags so you could walk right up and start talking."

"Uniforms and ponytails, huh? Must be hard to find your ideal lady now that you're over twenty."