Savannah picked up the water glass on the table and took a long swallow. “What about you?” she asked smoothly. “Have you always wanted to be a lawyer?”
With an enthusiastic nod, Tony began explaining how law was his biggest passion, only to be interrupted by the arrival of their waiter, a twenty-something-year-old guy with spiky brown hair and hazel eyes.
“Are you ready to order?” he inquired.
Savannah noticed the waiter had glued his gaze to her cle**age. She suddenly wished she’d brought a cardigan or something. The way this kid checked her out was almost criminal.
“No, we need a few more minutes,” Tony said.
The waiter turned to Savannah, but his eyes never reached her face. He just kept ogling her tits like a horny teenager. “Something to drink then?”
“A few more minutes,” she echoed.
With one last lingering look, the waiter walked off, while Savannah rolled her eyes and said, “I hope he doesn’t roofie my drink. I’m not in the mood to be sexually assaulted tonight.”
Tony gave her a blank look. “What? Why would he put drugs in your drink?”
She grew flustered. “He wouldn’t. He was just looking at my…I was making a…whatever.”
Her date was looking at her in such confusion she almost laughed out loud. But then Tony’s face brightened and he continued his recitation of all the reasons he’d chosen to become a lawyer.
Savannah tuned him out, still thinking about how he’d completely missed the sarcasm in her tone. Matt would have appreciated the sardonic remark. Like the day they’d been lying side by side on the bank floor, when he’d laughed at her whispered barbs. They’d joked back and forth that day as if they’d done it for years. She still couldn’t believe he liked—and got—her sense of humor.
Her mind drifted, the memory of his childhood anecdotes coming to the surface. She’d loved hearing those stories, mostly because it had been fun picturing big, tough Matt O’Connor as a little kid fussed over by all the females in his family. She liked hearing his voice too. Deep and gruff, and so deliciously husky when he was turned on.
She smothered a groan. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him already? They’d had a few fun weeks together, and she’d gotten out just in time. He’d told her he was falling in love with her! How could she stick around after that and risk another painful breakup? She’d been through too many of those. Like when Kevin dumped her after she burned yet another dinner. He’d gone on and on about how much he valued marriage and how he didn’t think she would make a good wife. Asshole. The words had stung back then, but eventually she’d accepted the truth to them. Men didn’t want to settle down with someone like her. She was too forward when it came to sex, too sarcastic, and not at all domestic, unless you counted her affinity for flowers.
Matt might be a bit of a commitment-phobe too, but she suspected he secretly did want the kind of loving relationship his sisters had. He would want a wife someday, and like an ass**le once told her, she wasn’t wife material.
Or maybe it would have ended the way things did with Greg, her last serious boyfriend. The routine they’d fallen into had been so boring she’d wanted to tear her own hair out. So she’d broken up with Greg, hurting him deeply in the process. She didn’t want to hurt Matt, which would no doubt happen if the chemistry between them decided to fizzle out.
The sharp clearing of a male throat jerked her from her thoughts. She blinked, finding Tony watching her in concern. “Huh?” she said.
“I asked if you were ready to order. You’ve been staring at the menu for five minutes. And you ignored me the four times I asked you what you wanted.”
Five minutes? She’d spaced out for that long? And she hadn’t even noticed him talking to her. What was the matter with her?
A startling thought sliced into her consciousness.
She wasn’t having a good time.
Here she was, on a first date with a seriously cute guy who she’d normally be incredibly attracted to, but the thrill wasn’t there.
She didn’t want to feel Tony’s lips on hers for the first time. Didn’t want to undress him and find out what lay beneath his black trousers and navy-blue suit jacket.
She felt zero enthusiasm about starting a casual fling with this man.
Because she still wanted Matt O’Connor.
Because she’d fallen for Matt O’Connor.
Swallowing hard, she met her date’s now-annoyed eyes and said, “How about we call it a night?”
“God, your chest is rock-hard,” the little brunette in Matt’s arms purred, tightening her arms around his neck. “No wonder you’re so good at this game.”
Matt decided not to point out that hard chests had nothing to do with a game of pool. Precision, maybe. A steady grip. But not a damned chest.
Smothering a weary sigh, he slowly ducked out of the woman’s embrace and reached for the cue he’d rested against the side of the table. “Let’s finish the game.”
Her brown eyes flickered with irritation as he moved to the other side of the pool table and pretended to study the placement of the balls. Fuck, why had he bothered coming here tonight? The Sand Bar was always the place to go when you wanted to find a warm, willing body to spend the night with, but for some reason, the mob of bodies and the scent of sweat and perfume made him nauseous. And the loud reggae music blasting from the speakers was giving him a headache.