The way his back muscles tense and release as he bends over the pool table makes my fingers tingle at the thought of running my tongue over all of that exquisite maleness. He isn’t one of the regulars at my favorite watering hole. When he leans back up from acing his shot, I can see the sharp angles of his face and the clean, firm line of his jaw. Nope. Definitely not one of the regulars. A man this beautiful I would have remembered and quietly obsessed about with my best friend. Looking down at my cell phone, I notice I haven’t gotten any new texts from said best friend. It’s been about thirty minutes since Karen sent off a frantic text saying she was running late to our weekly girl’s night. Sipping at my martini again, I decide with such nice scenery, I can’t be that mad. Shifting to re-cross my legs, I freeze at the sensation of being watched. Looking up, I notice Mr. Sexy Pool Player is leaning against the wall, staring in my direction.
