Page 18 of Maxim
“Max. And you are?”
“Natalya, but everyone calls me Nat.”
“Natalya…” The way my name rolls off his lips is positively sexual. We’re not facing each other and I’m glad about that. I’m not sure I can look him in the eye right now.
“Well it’s nice to meet you again,” I start to say, desperate to get away from this man before he turns me into a puddle of lust, but he takes my arm gently and leads me toward the bar.
“Let me get you a drink,” he purrs. “It’s only fair seeing as how I spilled your champagne.”
“It’s OK, I don’t like champagne anyway.”
He nods at the bartender, who approaches immediately.
“What would you like to drink, Natalya?”
“Vodka and soda with a dash of lime, please.” This will be my first and last drink of the night. Something to settle my nerves and loosen me up. Because God knows I need it right now. Every nerve is strung tighter than a bow.
And him standing so close to me is not helping.
“A glass of Macallan for me.”
The bartender pours our drinks and sets them on the polished maple counter. I gulp my drink down, enjoying the burn of the vodka as it slides down my throat. This is when I should be working the room, checking who the mayor is schmoozing with, and making notes. I’m also supposed to meet James, to discuss the interview we’re doing later, but so far, all I’ve done is drool over a ridiculously handsome man.
I’m caught in a forcefield so powerful it feels like I’ll never escape. Max is a sun and I am a small planet stuck in an endless rotational orbit.
I almost lost my mind when we met at the restaurant last week. It was all I could do to tear myself away before I did something stupid, like suggest we go back to my apartment and get to know each other better.
In bed.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Jane and Amanda would be thrilled to hear my vagina has officially come out of retirement. They’ve been pushing me for months to just sleep with someone - anyone - to break my extended dry spell.
In their unprofessional opinion, it’s time I moved on from the disaster known as Rick. My friends say it wasn’t my fault. He was charming and fooled everyone. I was just unlucky.
I’m not sure I agree with them, but they are right about one thing. I do need to move on.
Is this the guy to help me erase my bad memories of Rick?
The way he fills out his tux suggests he might be.
Chapter thirteen
Max
That dress.
That fucking dress.
The minute I saw her, my dick was hard. Thank fuck the lighting in this cavernous room edges toward subtle, or it would be impossible to hide my reaction. I keep my tux buttoned up though, just in case.
There is no shortage of attractive women here this evening. I’ve caught a few of them looking my way, some more blatant than others, even when they’re hanging off a guy’s arm.
Normally I’d use this hellish evening as an opportunity to find a willing bed partner, but tonight, I only have eyes for her. She looks stunning in her deep blue dress. The way the silky fabric hugs her curves should be illegal.
I don’t miss the many interested looks she attracts. It gives me serious murder vibes. Not that I have any right to feel that way. We barely know each other. We’ve had one conversation. A short one at that.
So what is it about this woman that has me acting so irrationally?