Mr. CEO(11)

I could use a drink. That long island didn’t do a damn thing and I don’t want to go back to the room feeling so emotionally raw.

“You’re not coming up?” Eva asks me as the elevator doors open.

I shake my head. “I want a real drink before I go pass out.”

Eva bites her lower lip as she studies me. I can tell she’s worried about me. Bless her heart. “Okay,” she says finally, pulling me in for a brief hug. “But please don’t overdo it.” She disappears into the elevator and I make my way inside the hotel’s bar.

As I walk in, I remember how I left last time. I remember the gorgeous man in the suit. My body shivers as I remember the way he looked at me, the way his looks make me feel. I could really use one of those looks right now. It made me feel... sexy. Wanted.

I take the closest seat to the exit at the bar, signaling the waiter for a drink. As I wait for it, I pull out my phone and check the status of the last messages I sent Ian. They haven't been read. God. He’s not even reading my texts now. I don’t know why, but this makes me feel even more alone and angry.

It’s not like there’s anything wrong with being alone, I just didn't think I’d wind up single at this age. I smile while placing my order, although it doesn’t at all reflect what I feel.

I thought for sure I’d have a couple of babies with Ian by now, I think to myself sadly. I shake off the depressing thought and promise myself that I won't dwell on it anymore. As far as I’m concerned, I dodged a bullet.

The waiter comes back with my glass of cabernet. He gives me a sexy grin as he sets it down. He’s a cute brunette and all, sexy even, but I’m just not feeling him. He’s not my type.

My stomach twists with desire as I remember Mr. CEO again. There’s just something about him. His raw sex appeal and obvious power; the way he wears his suits--like he f*cking owns his dominance. It’s funny, because in my life of business I’m surrounded by men in suits, but none of them look anywhere near as good as he does in them.

I smile as I bring the glass to my lips.

The bartender must think I’m smiling at him because he winks and says, “It’s on the house, sweetheart,” when I try to pass him a tip. He gives me a cocky smile as I watch him walk off to serve another patron. I get the feeling he’s going to come back over when he’s done and try to see if he’ll get something for his free drink.

He’ll be sorely disappointed if he does. I’m not that cheap.

I’m taking another sip of my cabernet when I suddenly feel a large hand on my waist. I nearly spit my wine out onto my blouse as thick fingers dig into my skin and I turn to push whoever it is away.

“What in the-” I turn to see a man who's gotta be in his late thirties leering at me with his bloodshot eyes. His hair’s short, cut in military style and he has a serious case of dimples.

“Hey, sugar. What are you drinking tonight?” asks the man, his breath carrying the strong smell of whiskey.

My first reaction is to tell the man to get the hell away from me. But I glance around the bar and notice the upscale patrons and business people that are probably from the convention. I really don’t want to cause a scene and have it get back to my boss.

“Just a glass of wine by myself tonight,” I say politely, putting emphasis on ‘by myself’.

The drunk guy fails to get the message. He tugs on his plaid tie that’s already loose around his neck and wobbles as he takes the barstool next to me. Eventually, he manages to mount it and then he turns to me, practically staring at my breasts.

Okay, now I’m seriously uncomfortable.

“You’ve got a nice outfit on,” he says in a low, gravelly voice. He leans in close, invading my personal space, so close that the smell of his breath becomes overpowering. “I think it’d look better on the floor though.”

Oh hell. I need to get out of here now.

Just as I'm about to get up and leave Mr. Drunk to hump my empty barstool, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I turn and my breath catches in my throat at the sight before me. It’s Mr. CEO, walking through the bar like he owns the place, and his eyes are focused on me.





Chapter 7





Logan





I’ve held many business meetings at restaurants or bars just like this one. The back booth in the Madison Hotel bar is perfect for this meeting. I don’t usually like it, but it does have advantages. It makes it easier to slip out and leave the company with a round of drinks on me. But tonight I chose this bar hoping to see my Rose again. And she didn’t disappoint.

I noticed her the second she walked in. There’s an air around her that commands my attention. Stevens was in the middle of a counterpoint on international resources when she walked through the open doors and walked to the same seat she was in before, directly across from the booth I chose.

I’ve barely listened to a word from Trent or Stevens. The meeting’s done as far as I’m concerned. We’re not pushing it through until we meet agreeable terms. Stevens can insist that the cut in costs makes it worth it, but I know better. It’s best not to cut corners, especially when quality and timing are concerned.

Her shapely legs are crossed and it pulls her black skirt up a little farther. She's wearing a loose slightly see-through blouse and even with the dim lighting in the room, I can easily make out her curves. Her tall heels hook onto the leg of the barstool and she sighs heavily before leaning her forearms against the bar and waiting patiently for the bartender.