LITMIR.BIZ

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Martooti,” she said, the name sounding more foolish than it had when she’d selected it. She’d come to Grins for its specialty drinks for her sidebar on the top ten froufrou cocktails. Oh, and to meet a man.

      “Want another one?” AJ asked, looking doubtful.

      “I should try something else.” She grabbed the drink menu. “I can’t decide between the Licorice Twist and the Hot Cha-Cha. Will you try one for me?”

      “Sorry,” he said, lifting a brow as if she’d asked a crazy question. “Scotch rocks, please,” he said to the waitress as though they were old friends.

      “You got it,” she said, winking at him. Brother. The woman was either aiming for a big tip or an after-shift date. She made it seem effortless.

      “I’ll have the Licorice Twist,” Beth said.

      “Sure.” The waitress wrote it down, then gave AJ a departing smile.

      “The pen,” Beth said to AJ.

      “I think you dropped this,” he said to the waitress, holding out the pen.

      She accepted it, her fingers lingering on his. “Thanks for watching out for me.” So obvious.

      “My pleasure,” AJ said, flirting back.

      Some people could flirt as easily as breathe. Not Beth. Sara had given her tips, but they’d flown out of her brain the minute this man dropped into her lap—well, booth.

      Her stomach tightened. She felt as though she was in over her head. She didn’t have to actually sleep with him, or anything. They would just chat, joke around, maybe get friendly enough to kiss. Just enough to make her column sparkle. Sara, of course, would go for sex. He had warm hands, after all. What about Em? What would Em do?

      She was about to find out.

      “So what brings you here?” AJ asked her, leaning closer on crossed arms, his scuffed leather bomber jacket creaking deliciously.

      I’m picking up a man. You interested? “Just getting out…sampling some cocktails,” she said, lifting her empty Martooti glass.

      “Sorry I couldn’t help. Tiki drinks threaten my masculinity.”

      She smiled. “I can’t imagine anything doing that.” Not bad. Something was giving her the courage to stretch a bit—either the warmth of his expression or her determination to extract a column out of this at any cost.

      “So I seem too macho to you?”

      “No. Just very male.” The candlelight polished his blond hair and gleamed on the leather of his jacket. Underneath, he wore a V-neck silk knit shirt in a rich brick red. The contrast of leather and silk begged to be touched. So did the muscles swelling under the shirt, pulled taut by his position.

      “I think I have a feminine side in here somewhere.” He pretended to pat his jacket pockets, then shrugged. “Hopefully, it’ll show up when I need it.”

      “And when might that be?”

      “When a woman wants to know what I’m feeling inside.” He shuddered in pretend dismay.

      “I’ll try not to pry.”

      He wasn’t really joking, she could tell. For all his friendliness, there was a guardedness about him. His piercing eyes, warm on her now, still managed to say, Don’t get close. “So what do you do, Beth?” he asked.

      “I’m a technical writer.” That was one of her jobs, anyway. Sex columnist working on her first article would change the entire flavor of the encounter. She never revealed her identity when she reviewed venues, so why start now? With her nondescript appearance and subtle research techniques, she slipped in and out of hot spots like a ghost with taste.

      “That sounds interesting.”

      She laughed. “You’re too kind. It sounds boring, but it’s fascinating to me. I like the challenge of turning engineering jargon into something ordinary people can grasp.”

      “Having once assembled a stereo system, I salute you. Do you have an engineering background?”

      “Not really. My degree is in English, but I took lots of math and science.”

      The waitress arrived with their drinks and after she left, AJ lifted his Scotch in a toast. “To tiki drinks and talking,” he said, studying her over his glass.

      Something hot vibrated along her nerves, connecting between her legs, which she nervously crossed. They were only discussing cocktails and technical writing, but she felt on the brink of something thrilling. And scary.

      Raising her Licorice Twist in its tall glass, she said, “To getting to know each other.” And more?

      Only if she dared. And if he was interested, of course.

      The proportions of anise and chocolate in her drink were off, and the liqueur was a cheap one, so the effect was sickeningly sweet without an alcohol bite. She mentally crossed Licorice Twist off her top ten list. That part of her column was moving along. For the rest of it, the important part, she should say something flirty, but she settled for the predictable. “And how about you? What brings you to Grins?”

      “I’m staying here, in the hotel.”

      “Where are you from?”

      “San Francisco.”

      “And you’re here on business?” He nodded and something flickered in his eyes, some discomfort, but she asked the next question anyway. “And what work do you do?”

      “I’m a transition expert. I help, uh, reorganize companies, redeploy staff, all that.”

      “Far more interesting than technical writing.”

      “It hasn’t been much fun today and I actually dropped in here to stop thinking about it.” He lifted his glass as proof.

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” She’d been practically grilling the man. Any second she’d ask for his social security number so she could run his prints.

      “Let’s just stick with keeping each other company.” He tapped his drink against her glass and studied her again. “That’s what I find interesting.”

      “Okay. Sure.” She had to look away, uncomfortable with how closely he was looking at her with those laser blues. But part of her liked it. The tingling between her legs intensified. She could see that if a woman went with certain impulses, she could end up in bed with a man like AJ with no effort at all. Some women, anyway.

      “Actually, you caught my interest just walking across the room a while ago,” AJ said.

      “Really?” That might be a line, but there was something so direct about AJ that she was sure there was more to it. He had looked intrigued when he’d caught her gaze near the rest rooms. “How so?”

      “You seemed, I don’t know, contradictory.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “You’re dressed very hot, but you’re unsteady in your heels and you’ve got a little-kid barrette in your hair.”

      “Oh.” Her hand flew to touch the Hello Kitty clasp she’d borrowed from her neighbor’s daughter to hold her hair up. “I borrowed this. And I’m just getting used to new shoes.” The truth was that she never wore heels. AJ had seen right through to her inner librarian.

      “Don’t apologize. The contradictions suit you.”

      His scrutiny and flattery unnerved her, so she decided to joke away the feeling. “Excellent. I’m completely charmed. And what’s my line? ‘No one’s ever noticed that about me before’?”

      “You’re catching on,” he said, but a flicker in his eyes told her she’d hurt his feelings.

      “I’m sorry.

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