Consequences(10)

“What time do you get off?” His strong, husky voice resonated above the clamor of the bar, patrons, and music.

“Now, Anthony—isn’t that what you said your name is?” Claire’s chatty work tone contained the slightest of a Southern drawl, the kind of accent you pick up from being around it so much. Her roots in Indiana with a mother that taught English wouldn’t allow her to drag those syllables out too far—unless on purpose.

Smiling a devilish grin and flashing those sensual eyes, he met her gaze. “Yes, that’s correct, and if I recall, your name is Claire.”

“And, even though I’m flattered, I don’t usually see my customers outside this esteemed establishment.”

“All right, what time do you get off? Perhaps we could sit in one of those booths, right here”—he gestured toward the dance floor—“in this esteemed establishment—and talk? I would like to know more about you.”

Damn. He was smoother talking than any of the regular Joes that sat on these stools. And now that his silk tie was in the pocket of his Armani suit coat, and the top button of his silk shirt was undone, his casual business persona was incredibly sexy.

“Now tell me again what brings you to Atlanta. You aren’t from around here, are you?” Claire said, leaning against the bar.

“Business, and no, but I think I’m the one who wanted to ask the questions.” His tone demonstrated a playful quality and at the same time exhibited focus and control.

Claire’s intuition told her that he was used to getting his way. Something made her wonder if that’s what made him successful in business. His appearance definitely said success. She pondered if that transcended to his personal life.

Claire listened and watched as Anthony’s eyes glistened. He was tall, and now that the coat had been removed, she could tell he was muscular, with a wide chest and firm waist. Most importantly, his left hand had an empty fourth finger. That would definitely be a red flag. Against her better judgment, Claire decided she wanted to answer his questions.

“Okay.” Claire smiled charmingly. “But I will’ve been standing behind this bar for six hours straight. I can’t promise I’ll be the best company.”

“Then I take that as a yes? But did you tell me the time? Or am I still waiting for that answer?”

She found herself absorbed in his eyes.

“Yo! Hey, sweetheart, how about you give us some service down here?” Claire’s attention was suddenly pulled away from the hold of those amazing eyes. The * down the bar needed more Jack and Coke. As she started to walk away, Anthony reached for her hand, which had been resting on the bar only inches from his. His warm touch made her skin tingle. He didn’t ask again, but his expression did…

“At 10:00 PM—I get off at 10:00 PM.” She removed her hand from under his, shook her head, and walked down the bar, smiling to herself. She needed to find out what the * wanted.

*

The deep-red vinyl seats of the semicircular booth situated on the edge of the dance floor tried unsuccessfully to imitate fine upholstery. Music filled the air, too loud and too fast. In Anthony’s mind, it created the perfect climate, requiring him and Claire to sit close in an effort to hear one another. He also had a bottle of the Red Wing’s finest Cabernet Sauvignon. Looking at his watch for the hundredth time, he read the hands as they said 10:30 PM. It was then that he saw Claire walking across the empty dance floor toward his booth.

This night was definitely filled with out-of-character behaviors. Not only did Anthony Rawlings not fraternize with regional associates, he never waited for anyone. Under any other circumstance, he would have been up and gone by 10:05 PM. His friends, associates, and employees all knew his obsession with punctuality. Tonight was different.