The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(18)

When he was close enough to touch her, he did, gently resting a palm on her shoulder. Warmth saturated her, sending those butterflies on a hectic migration through her limbs. He redirected his gaze to the dining room, but not until after he’d started speaking. “Hey, guys, table’s open.”

“Thanks,” one of them answered.

Rachel turned to see a pair of guys walk into the room and fish quarters out of their pockets. When she looked back to Tag, he was watching her with a quiet intensity that made her want to turn and run.

“Pick a place to sit,” he said. “We’re not done yet.”

*



Flirting with Rachel came easy, but her reactions weren’t what he was used to.

The wariness was normal. Women often reacted suspiciously when they first met him, but Rachel’s reaction was more than suspicion of what he might want from her. She acted almost afraid of what she might want from him.

If she was anyone else, he’d make an excuse and bug out, knowing what would follow: her walling up and shutting down each of his advances. She’d given him an inch when he called her Dimples, and damn what he wouldn’t give to see her flash those pair of divots again, but then she’d clammed up the second he mentioned Lucas had been popular with the ladies.

Rachel’s guard was way, way up. She’d been hurt, and if he had to guess, it hadn’t been that long ago.

Nearly every table in the place was open. A few business types hanging out in curved booths. A cluster of women dressed for happy hour at a group of tables pushed together. Rachel sat at a table as opposed to a cozy booth—on purpose, he’d bet. She wasn’t looking to get cozy with him tonight.

He sat across from her, dwarfing the wooden chair. A candle in a jar threw golden light onto her blond hair, creating a halo around her that looked like it belonged there.

“You’re single?” he asked, cutting right to the chase. If she was going to throw up walls, he wanted to know how many questions he could ask before she bricked him out. A risky tactic, but if she stood and stormed off, he knew where she lived.

One eyebrow arched. “Are you?”

“I am tonight.” He held her gaze and leaned on the table, crowding the small space.

Rachel sat back in her chair and lifted her beer, creating physical distance. “Do you always come on this strong?”

“No,” he answered honestly.

Often, he watched, would take a read on a group of girls across the room. Usually, one would break out of her safety zone and come to him. Ask about his hair. Mention she had a bet going with a friend and ask if she could touch it. He always let them touch. Touching led to them agreeing to come home with him, so it was a smart move.

“Adonis favors the toy beaver over the squirrel. What do you think that means?” Her brows closed in as if she was actually considering the absurd question.

Tag laughed. “You’re funny.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Okay. Well, the girl didn’t lack self-confidence, so her trepidation wasn’t because of timidity. She shouldn’t be timid. She was gorgeous. And single.

Strange.

“How long have you lived in Chicago?” he asked.

“A few years. You?”

She was good at throwing the conversation back at him.

“Lived here since birth.” He reached for his beer, anticipating her next question.

As predicted, she went with, “Where do you work?”

“Crane Hotels,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. Normally, he’d only mention he worked for a big hotel chain. But Rachel didn’t know he was a Crane, and once she did, he was curious how she’d react. “I run Guest and Restaurant Services.”

“Ah, then you can write this visit off, I’m assuming.” She narrowed her eyes in faux suspicion. “Are you here to steal Andromeda’s bar secrets?”

Write-off. Not a term often spouted by a girl who worked in the service industry, unless she owned the place.

“What’s the deal, Dimples? How did a businesswoman end up slinging shots in a bar?” It was a guess, but it drew a response. Her mouth softened and dropped open. Then she frowned, probably trying to figure out what she’d said to give herself away.

“I…um. Didn’t like to dress professionally.” She took a drink of her draft beer. He liked how she drank out of a big-ass frosty mug, filling her cheeks before she swallowed. She hadn’t argued about the beer. Didn’t balk and order something pink and served in a martini glass, which suited her.

Rachel had more secrets than Victoria…which made him wonder what kind of underwear she’d hidden beneath her casual, relaxed outfit. Their conversation had been laced with his questions and her snappy comebacks. He had no idea who she was, but her evasiveness only made him want to know more.

Dressed down, she was turning him on more than she had in the skintight dress she’d worn to his penthouse. Much as he liked a girl spilling out of her clothes, Rachel looked ready to go on an adventure, awakening the explorer in him.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He kept his tone casual instead of accusatory.

“That’s all you’re getting.” She stood from the table, propping a hand on the tempting curve of her hip. “I’m going to go. Thank you for the beer.”