“Oh …” Yes, two plus two equaled four. No girlfriends and not being celibate every day equaled a really bad answer. “You’re a playboy.”

“Was and I didn’t actually call myself that.”

Six gulps later the second Bloody Mary vanished. This time Ryn signaled the waitress for another, although it took a little more waving to get her eyes drawn away from Jackson. Ryn stopped shy of jumping up and down on the table.

“I take it something happened. Did you get someone pregnant?” That Ryn could relate to. “Or did you catch some nasty STD?” Bloody Mary asked that question. There wasn’t even a flinch like she shouldn’t have asked it or that she needed to take it back. Maybe she didn’t need another drink after all.

His brows drew tight. “No kids or STDs. I just liked sex but not relationships. My uncomplicated lifestyle suited me at the time.”

“But now?”

“Now I’m different.”

“Why?”

“Because I choose to be.”

The vodka seeped into her brain. They were the best Bloody Marys and never stingy on the alcohol. “You should choose to show me all your tattoos.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh God, I just said that out loud.”

Jackson’s eyes widened and it’s possible his ears perked up a bit too. “You did. Keep going. I think I like you uncensored.”

The impish twist of his lips had her grabbing for more of her drink, but her hands were greeted by an empty glass. That made his eyes glimmer with even more delight. “I’d love to show you my tattoos, but not here.” He ducked his head to her ear. “I’d have to remove all my clothes for you to see all my tattoos.”

“We can’t have sex!” she blurted so fast it sounded like one long—loud—word.

Jackson looked around at a few of his adoring fans while wiping his hand over his mouth as if he could hide or remove the smirk on his face.

“Oh bloody, Bloody Mary … cut me off right now. What I mean—”

Her most wildly entertained date held his index finger to his lips over his permanent smile.

Taking the hint, she lowered her voice, not realizing how loud she had been. “What I mean is I have some things to attend to in the sex department.”

Biting his lips together, he nodded. “More preparation?”

With inebriated confidence she sat up ramrod straight and nodded. “Exactly.”

“Mmm … I see, well you didn’t finish telling me about Maddie.”

Her posture sank again. “Oh Maddie, Maddie, Maddie. She’s so aanng-ger-ee with me all the time. I’m trying to protect her from him, but she just doesn’t see the whole picture.”

“Him?”

“The ex. He’s not a nice man.” She slid her celery in and out of her mouth, running her tongue down the center groove.

Jackson cleared his throat. “You’re not eating that celery like we can’t have sex. You need to take a bite or put it back in your glass … now.”

Ryn bit into it, eyes wide, then she chewed it slowly, keeping her gaze locked to his.

“That’s better. Now … the ex, why is he not a nice man?”

“He has too much money and anger management issues.”

“Anger management issues?”

Ryn tapped her fingernail against the side of her glass, exhaling a breathy laugh. “I’m a little inebriated. A couple swigs past tipsy, but not officially drunk. Talking about the ex is not a good idea right now. He probably has someone following me and listening in on our conversation.”

Jackson took a slow glance over his shoulder. “Why would he have someone follow you?”

“Because he’s a psycho,” she whispered in his ear then chuckled. “If he gets within a football field of me, he’ll be arrested. Sometimes I feel like someone is following me, but I can never detect who. It’s just an unsettling feeling.”

“So it was physical abuse?”

Ryn twisted her lips. “Hmm … yeah, I’d say seven trips to various hospitals in less than a year would qualify as physical abuse.”

Jackson didn’t flinch or even blink. Most people had some sort of involuntary reaction if she confessed her past.

“It started years ago when Maddie was a baby.” Ryn rested her elbow on the table then her chin on her hand. “I think you should take me home.” She yawned. “We’ve been here less than an hour, and I’ve consumed way too much alcohol in that short amount of time. I’m off kilter around you.”

He grinned behind the mouth of his beer bottle as he took the last swig. “Why is that?”

There was the lack of sex with something or someone other than an inanimate vibrating object, the age difference flashing in neon, and the nervous vibe that someone set everything up as a joke. At any given moment it seemed possible that her friends and family could jump out and yell surprise or gotcha—a fortieth birthday prank of sorts. Ha ha. Ryn actually thought this guy was interested in her.

“Why is that … good question. Let me see, you kinda came out of nowhere. You have this Magic Mike stripper’s body—”

“Who’s Magic Mike?”

Her laugh came out as a cough. “It doesn’t matter. My point is you’re unexpected … too unexpected. I’m trying to make sense of this little game we’re playing. I’m on the cusp of losing my youth, truthfully I’ve already lost it, but I enjoy the warm comfort of denial. Then you swoop in just before I turn forty and kiss me like we’re teenagers, joke about marrying me, and the way you look at me … well, there are no words.” Closing her eyes she shook her head. The alcohol was no match for how dizzy she felt under the intensity of his gaze.

“These little muscles in your jaw twitch when I look at you. I like to imagine they’re the gatekeepers to the words you’re dying to say … the ones that I’m certain will land you naked in my bed.” Jackson rolled his lips between his teeth and studied her, always with a look of intrigue. “Then you swallow hard about every ten seconds. Need I tell you what image that conjures in my head? But then I feel your heavy breaths, even though I know you’re trying to control them, and swear I can actually hear your heart beating in your chest. I know you say we can’t have sex, but I say it’s too late. These little things you do fuck me in ways I never imagined possible. No matter what I say, you never look away. Your eyes can’t hide what your body tries to deny.”

Pantyliner. Ryn needed a pantyliner to absorb whatever trickled down her sex. In a desperate prayer she hoped it was her melting libido and not the untimely arrival of her unpredictable “friend.” Did he see that in her eyes? Fear. Embarrassment. Anguish.

“You should go pull the car up front.”

He narrowed his eyes, but only for a second. “Okay.”

Her living dream disappeared out the door. His car was twenty yards from the entrance to the bar. It wasn’t raining, and she gave no explanation for her odd request. Yet, he did it—no questions asked. The undefinable connection between them began taking on a life of its own. It was a lucid dream, and anyone who tried to wake her would be murdered—unless she herself died of embarrassment first.

“Please don’t let Bloody Mary be the theme for the night,” she whispered to herself, making a quick dash to the restroom.

No blood.

Ryn sighed as she dealt with the juice fest in her nether region with the most unpredictable terrain. One day sex felt like trying to start a fire with flint and metal, the next day just the thought of sex brought on a tsunami of secretions. Jackson was the earthquake that triggered that tsunami. Her cotton panties were drenched and sadly, she had a wet spot on the backside of her skirt to prove it.

“Lovely,” she murmured, looking over her shoulder with her back to the mirror.

A quick air-dry later, she wormed her way through the growing bar crowd to the wood-paneled chariot.

“Ryn?”

She turned before opening the car door.

“I thought that was you.”

Eyes wide like the dots to two big question marks, she smiled. “Hi … uh…”