e was done there, I expected that she was going to come back over to us, but she didn’t; there was another customer waiting for a drink, so she went to help him instead. I half-listened as he ordered a Manhattan; Shellie was just as flirty with him as she had been with Ian. Maybe that’s just how she was.
I took another sip of my drink, and then another. I could barely taste the vodka at all. Actually, I couldn’t really; it was just like drinking a glass of fizzy juice. My face felt warm, and I suddenly found myself smiling, on the verge of laughter, even though no one had said anything funny.
“So,” I said, feeling emboldened by the alcohol. “Why did you bring me here?”
He took another sip of his drink and gave me an amused look. “Why did I bring you here? Ever hear of getting drinks after work? That’s something I rather enjoy doing. Also, it’s not always possible to really get to know someone during the workday; there’s always some sort of distraction or something going on. I like to get to know my employees.”
I realized that he had shifted on the bar stool and his knee was now resting against mine. Had he done that on purpose? Did he even realize it?
There was a tiny little voice in the back of my mind that was saying this probably wasn’t totally appropriate. Or maybe it was? I’d gone out and gotten drinks with everyone at the salon before; though it had been all girls, minus the two gay guys that worked there. It hadn’t been this small, intimate outing, and no one’s knee had been brushing up against my own. I also wasn’t sexually attracted to anyone there—and there was no doubt that Ian was sexy as all hell. Was the alcohol just making me realize it even more? Was it playing tricks with my mind? Because as we sat there talking, he seemed to be getting better and better looking by the second, which really didn’t seem feasible considering how good-looking he was to begin with.
“Are you enjoying the job so far?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. I picked up my drink to take another sip and was surprised to see that it was nearly gone. There was really only one sip left. “Whoa!” I said. “How’d that happen?”
“Magic,” he said with a wink.
His knee was still touching mine.
I took the final sip and set the empty glass down on the counter. I nibbled at the wedge of pineapple. I was usually pretty good about nursing a drink, but that one tasted so good it was all but impossible not to keep sipping it until it was gone. “I would just like to thank you for hiring me,” I said. “The job is great so far. What made you want to start a security company?”
“It seemed like the sort of work that would suit me. I was in the Marines for a while, and I definitely got some life experiences there, but I’ve always liked being my own boss, being the one in charge. Having a private security firm just sort of seemed the natural progression of things, especially when Jonathan and I reconnected. We went to school together. I’ve known him a long time.”
“That’s so cool you guys have known each other for so long. And now you get to work together.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s something, isn’t it?”
I reached for my glass, momentarily forgetting that it was empty, but it wasn’t where I’d left it. A few inches over, though, was a new glass, brimming full with that same bubbly amber liquid was in its place.
“When did that happen?” I asked, reaching for it.
“I told you, it’s magic,” he said. He picked up his first glass and downed the rest. “What do you like to do in your spare time? When you’re not busy being someone’s secretary?”
“Um . . .” I picked up one of the square paper napkins and fanned my face. “A lot of things. I go to the gym, which is where I met Jonathan, as you know. I hang out with my best friend. It’s weird—in college, I had a ton of friends, but then we all sort of drifted apart. Everyone seems so busy now. We’re still in touch on Facebook and stuff, but I really only hang out with my one best friend now.” I was racking my brain, trying to think of other things I liked to do. I sounded so boring! “And . . . I’m a writer.”
“Really? What sorts of things do you write?”
“Oh, all sorts. I’m actually not really working on anything at the moment.”
“Why not?”
“Well . . .” Well, because I have a stalker and that’s stressing me out so every time I try to sit down and work when I’m at home, I’m too distracted, wondering if he’s out there lurking in the bushes or something. But I didn’t want to talk about Noah right now. I never wanted to talk about Noah again, actually. “I’ve just been busy, I guess.”
I finished the second drink, and I pushed the glass away, hoping that a third would not appear. I’d be in pretty bad shape if that happened. “So there’s no boyfriend that you’re going to go home to after this?” Ian asked.
This struck me as particularly hilarious, and I burst out laughing. “Ha ha, no. Definitely no.”
“I kind of figured; most guys wouldn’t be too psyched about their girl going to get drinks with some other guy.”
Especially not one who looked like you. How was he so good-looking? I blinked, then blinked again, trying to figure out if this was all just some sort of mirage. Ian looked at me closely.
“Are you all right? Is there something in your eye?”
I shifted on the barstool, so instead of just the sides of our knees touching, my whole upper thigh was pressed against his. I leaned my torso a little too, and felt my shoulder brush against him. I could still smell the faint traces of whatever aftershave he used, a light cedar smell, with a little bit of spice. He had a perfectly square cut jaw.
“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just funny—I’m not really that successful when it comes to the dating department.”
“Is that so? I find that hard to believe.”