Naked Choke (2 page)

“No problem,” Bob/Bill murmured, then stepped back into safer territory and cleared his throat, checking Mr. Bond out, picking up on the extra few inches in height, thirty extra pounds in weight and a crap load of badass he’d never have. There was no way he was going to argue with the guy.

Neither was I. Up close, he was even more…gorgeous. Manly. Virile. Holy shit, he was hot. Dark stubble roughened his jaw and his hand against my back was warm, even through the cotton of my dress. The butterflies in my stomach earlier were now angry bees, and surely he could see my heart practically beating out of my chest. Unlike Bob/Bill, his gaze hadn’t dropped lower than my chin. It did though, dip briefly to my mouth and my lips parted slightly, trying to catch my breath.

“What were you two talking about when I interrupted?” He shifted his eyes off me and onto Bob/Bill, who seemed to turn green around the gills, clearly afraid to say. Propositioning
this
man’s significant other was not good for his health.

“Oh, um…”

“Oysters,” I said, willing to spare Paul’s cousin a possible slow and merciless death. He was pretty sleazy, but harmless enough, especially with Mr. Bond beside me. Mr. Bond somehow made me feel protected, sheltered and safe from any of Bob/Bill’s less honorable intentions. He made me feel…feminine in comparison to his ultra-masculine presence.

I darted a brief glance again at Paul across the room. He winked at me, then was pulled back into a conversation. He
had
sent this guy over to save me from Bob/Bill.

“Oysters? That’s fascinating.” From Mr. Bond’s tone, it didn’t sound as if it was. “You don’t look too good.” He gestured with his chin at Bob/Bill who now had beads of sweat dotting his brow to go along with the off pallor. “Ready?” he asked me, his eyes raking over my face.

Without waiting for me to answer, he took my hand and all but dismissed Bob/Bill. His hand was so big mine was all but swallowed up. His touch was gentle, which was surprising for a man who seemed so…aggressive, as if the calm exterior was just a façade and he had tension and energy coiled and ready to be unleashed, especially when aimed at a man who was bothering me. I could feel rough callouses on his palm and when his thumb brushed back and forth over the back of my hand, a chill went down my spine.

Ready? To go off with Mr. Bond? Mmm, yeah. I nodded, then turned to Bob/Bill. “Guess you should’ve followed the rules and skipped the oysters.”
Or skipped propositioning me and demeaning my job.
I faked a smile and let Mr. Bond lead me away. Everyone seemed to be looking at us, at him, for he had the bearing and presence that screamed
Get out of my
fucking way.
 

I placed my glass on an empty high top as we walked by. Mr. Bond let go of my hand—he had a drink in his other one—to push open the door to the outside deck and held it for me. The patio area wrapped around three sides of the building, although windows only flanked the wall that faced the water.

The air was balmy and humid, a striking contrast to the air-conditioned interior. Now I was overheated for an entirely different reason. The noise of the restaurant and bar was muffled. The sun was setting, the sky thick and hazy with the heat, yet a beautiful mixture of pink and orange. The lights of the buildings on the harbor were coming on, setting the water to sparkle even more.

Couples and small groups chatted by the railing and around small arrangements of chairs, so he pointed with his drink-filled hand around the corner. There, it was quiet, and I moved to sit in one of two chairs that looked out over the harbor. Small boats cut through the water and in the distance, tourists rode in simple paddle boats shaped like swans.

Since Christy was in love, she wanted everyone around her to have the same, but guys like Bob/Bill weren’t making me eager to change my Facebook status to
In A Relationship
. Regardless, she and Paul had tried to get me back
out there
now that Chris was away at college, but using
this
guy—holy hell
.
My life had been about raising Chris for so long, I didn’t know how to be just me, the woman, not the mom. And now, it
was
just me and this insanely good looking guy and I didn’t know what to do! It was one thing to talk to Bob/Bill, but I was flustered and tongue tied and overwhelmed by this man.

“Would you mind if I sit with you?” His voice was deep, cool and calm, patient.

My heart did that whole leap-into-my-throat thing as I looked up at him. Only a few feet away, he appeared a tad dangerous. His nose
had
been broken. I’d been right about that. There was also a scar that sliced through his left eyebrow, the whiteness of it a stark contrast to the dark hair. He smiled and waited.

“Oh, um. Sure.”

Gripping the back of the chair and leaning in, he asked, “You don’t seem so sure.”

“I…I just wondered why,” I replied, sheepishly. My insecurities were showing. While I felt confident in myself, when it came to men like him and the blatant selection of younger and more nubile women at the bar, I felt lacking. With me safely away from Oyster Man, Mr. Bond could return to the bar, his chivalry accomplished for the night. I could take my grandmother’s advice and find a nice man at church, but that wasn’t my angle either.

He frowned and a little crease formed in his brow. “Why?”

“Why you want to stay here with me.” I pointed in the direction of the bar. “I’ll tell Paul you saved me. You’re off the hook.”

He sat then, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his thighs. All of his attention was once again squarely on me. “Maybe I don’t want to be off the hook.”

Oh.
I couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything but realize he
wanted
to sit with me and I felt something shift inside. “Oh.”

He looked down. “I brought you another drink.”

He held a highball glass, filled with an icy concoction with two lime wedges floating on top. “Thanks, but I was drinking—”

“Water,” he cut in, finishing my sentence. His dark eyes once again watched me closely, calmly. It was as if he could shut out all the other patrons of the restaurant, the noise of dishes being stacked, even the subtle music, and give me every ounce of his attention.

“Yes,” I admitted, my eyes widening. How did he— “You’ve been watching me.”

Paul gave this guy his seal of approval, but everyone who heard their neighbor was an axe murderer swore they had no idea. I didn’t see an axe, although there was no question by his solid, hard, amazing body he could hurt someone without one. I felt wary and nervous, now in a completely different way. I didn’t
want
him to be a creep.

He leaned back in his chair and held up his hands in front of him. “Oh, hey, I don’t want to see that pretty smile go away. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to pick you up.”

My spine stiffened and I felt my cheeks heat. “Of course not.” Why would he waste his time picking
me
up when there was the bevy of easy women inside? Surely, he just needed to crook a finger and they’d come to him panting. He was…really, really attractive. Intense. Bob/Bill was pretty handsome and he
was
a creep. This guy was
more
. He had presence. Confidence. He dripped testosterone from his pores and the way I was practically panting over him, pheromones as well. He wasn’t working it here—he didn’t have to. He just…
was
.
 

He grinned, and that changed his entire demeanor. Relaxed by my sarcasm, he leaned back in his chair, elbows on the armrests. I, on the other hand, sat ramrod straight and ready to bolt.

“Shit, that was really bad, wasn’t it?” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he winced. “Insulting. I have to admit, you make me a little nervous.”

“Me?” Both my eyebrows went up then. “
I
make you nervous? You’re so far out of my league,” I admitted with a frown. Now he’d leave.

He looked down at his feet, then back at me. “Yeah, I know.” His voice was quiet, almost resigned.

“Wait.” I shook my head. “You think I’m…no way. Have you seen some of the women here tonight? They’re so…
young.
”

His dark eyes raked over me, from my wayward hair to the tips of my polished toes and back. “And you're old?” He didn't give me time to respond. “I’m right where I want to be.”

Oh.
I couldn’t help the little internal sigh at his words.

He leaned forward once again, rasped a hand over his chiseled jaw. “Let me start over. Okay?”

I cocked my head and noticed his chagrined expression. So I nodded, curious.

“I’m Gray, Paul’s trainer.”

Of course he was a trainer. He looked it. Fit. But fit like he lived that way, not just by pumping iron. His forearms were corded with muscle, his hands rugged, fingers long. With the scar and tattoos, he looked downright dangerous, more like a fighter than a simple trainer. Perhaps he’d competed in the past. Boxer? What did I know about that stuff? I just knew what I could see. With the combination of brooding danger and a wicked smile, he was lethal to my senses and made my heart skip a beat.

“I’m Emory. Christy’s friend.”

“Emory,” he repeated, as if trying out my name. “There we go. I didn’t screw that up.”

I rolled my eyes and smiled—I couldn’t help it. Every time he set me on edge, he put me at ease. “I guess I should thank you for rescuing me.”

He nodded. “Paul asked if I’d step in with his cousin. Both of us could tell you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

I looked down at my fingers. I offered a noncommittal sound because there wasn’t much to say about Bob/Bill. “I should have ditched him before I needed rescuing.”

“But you’re too nice, aren’t you, Emory?” he commented, as he watched me smooth my dress over my thighs. “He didn’t do anything, did he? Say anything to hurt you?”

Wow, he was intense, his complete focus on me, worried about me. It was exhilarating. With his dark eyes on mine, I couldn’t look away. I had no doubt if I told him the guy had put his hand on my waist Gray would have gone back inside and broke his fingers.

“No, of course not. Really,” I added, because he didn’t seem to believe me. I gave a small, dry laugh. “I could have gone home with him though.”

Both of Gray’s brows went up at my mocking tone. “I can take you back if you want.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the bar. I could see a humorous gleam in his eye.

I pursed my lips, trying not to smile. “He was really interesting actually. I now know the months to eat oysters.”

He held up his hands in front of him. “I can’t compete with that.”

I grinned at his ridiculous words. Gray had no competition, none at all, as far as I was concerned.

“Clearly I’ve been out of the game since I walked away from that winner.” I thumbed over my shoulder.

He frowned, not picking up on my sarcasm. “Game?”

“Parties, mingling, meeting people. Meeting
men.
”

“You hooked the oyster guy.”

It was my turn to frown. “Oh yeah, Bob/Bill is a great catch.”

“His name is Bob Bill?” he asked, surprised.

This time I laughed outright. “No. I don’t remember what it is. It starts with a B though. He was okay. An auditor.”

“You’ve had lots of guys proposition you at bars?” He watched me closely, perhaps a little intently, for the answer. He made it seem as if this was something of a test.

I frowned and pointed at myself. “Me? Really?”

He didn’t answer, but posed another one of his own. He crossed his fingers over his very flat belly as if settling in. “If that guy doesn’t do it for you, what are you looking for?”

He’d said he wasn’t trying to pick me up, so he wasn’t really interested in me. Perhaps for conversation, but that was it. My awakened libido would just have to go dormant once again. Perhaps this had me relaxing, for I could talk with a man, but I couldn’t talk with a
man.
I just had to think of Gray as Paul’s trainer and forget that he made my panties damp and my heart thrum and my cheeks flush.

“You’re speaking of appearance only?”

He considered. “Sure. We can start with that. You can’t use your husband or boyfriend’s description though.”

I wasn’t out of the game that much to know he was fishing.

“I’m divorced,” I told him, making it clear, perhaps more to myself than Gray, that Jack was long, long gone.

He knew he was caught and grinned sheepishly, little crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. How could he look so forbidding and dangerous, but be so…cute at the same time. “Thank you for clarifying.”

I just looked at him, arched a brow.

“Oh, you’re waiting for me.” He pointed at himself, putting the fingers of his left hand on his chest so I could see he wore no ring. “Single, never married.”

I nodded, reassured I wasn’t poaching on some woman’s territory. Not that I was doing any kind of poaching. I was having a
conversation
. That was all.

“Well?” He stretched his legs out in front of him as if he had all the time in the world. His doing this allowed me to notice how the material of his dress pants stretched taut over very muscular thighs. Realizing I was ogling, I looked up, his dark eyes held mine, then roved over my face. Self-consciously, I smoothed down imaginary wrinkles in my yellow dress once again.

“What am I looking for in a guy?” I repeated.
You.
Were we really having this conversation? Gray pushed every one of my hot buttons, but no way was I telling him that, for it would be mortifying to have it be officially one sided when he laughed at me and walked away.

“Yes.”

I gave a little shrug of indifference, my long hair shifting. I’d put clips in to hold it back from my face, but with the humidity, the soft waves were falling loose, completely out of my control. “That’s easy. I’m not looking.”

It was the truth. I had no interest in finding a man. After Jack had left me for his paralegal four years ago, I’d been in single-mom mode. He’d not only divorced me, but pretty much ditched his son as well. Dealing with Chris and his anger toward his father, high school, moving back in with my parents, college applications, life, I hadn’t lifted my head up to get some air, let alone look around. Now, with Chris away for his first year of college, I had more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. I was, for the first time since I was nineteen, on my own. Most people my age had young children and I was an empty nester.