Sterling (11 page)

“You’re a quiet thing; do you come with a name?”

“Zoë.”

“Zoë.” He spoke my name in that deep voice, tasting the word on his tongue. “Not a very common name.”

“Not a very common girl”, I replied.

“Indeed.” He watched me with serious eyes.

I wondered what exactly he meant by that. Perhaps it wasn’t common for a girl to not fall at the feet of the Adonis. Heaven forbid. Ye gods.

He pressed his lips together and pulled back studying his work. It wasn’t just handsome features that drew you in it was an intangible power. Even without looking at me, I found his gaze riveting. It was as if a handful of Caribbean sky was crushed into a million tiny shards and fashioned into polished glass to color his eyes. When his cobalt gaze rose to meet mine, I was the first one to break eye contact.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, but I guess I never wanted any Peeping Toms looking in my windows.

“I think that should do?” He looked at me, seeking my approval. Sure enough, the stain was gone, leaving only a patch of water. I was a little embarrassed when I could see how cheap the fabric looked up close. Fashion was nothing I had ever concerned myself over, but those were also the days when my clothes were not second hand and off brand. A few times I had to settle for a shirt that had a hole or rip in it. I refused to take money from Adam and my ATM card only stretched so far before my account was closed.

“Thanks, but no big deal. It’s not expensive or anything.”

“But it’s yours,” he said.

His dress, on the other hand, was casual: dark denim jeans, a shirt, and combat boots. Yet, there was nothing casual about it. The jeans were a high end brand secured with an expensive leather belt—the shirt was a soft material that up close looked cut in all the right places—and the boots gleamed as if right off the shelf and the laces were perfectly tied. He was a man who took pride in how he presented himself, even if he was dressed down. I bit my bottom lip as he remained in that position a few seconds longer than needed before standing up.

“Would you allow me to join you?”

Near the bar, one girl shot me a sour ‘rot in hell’ look, while another whispered something in her ear. Both glanced back and they laughed in unison like a couple of jackals.
Bitches
. I twirled a finger in my hair as I decided to win the unspoken showdown.

“Why?”

“You intrigue me.”

“I don’t know you well enough to intrigue you,” I laughed.

“I am Justus De Gradi,” he said, giving a slight bow but never looking away. “Now you know me.” He sought approval to take a seat.

I couldn’t help but smirk at the girls at the bar who were having a conniption. I was imagining how Sunny would love every juicy bit of this. He was exactly the type of man she cozied up to from his smug confidence to the size of the bulge in his pants. His
wallet
, that is.

“It’s a free country.”

Justus eased into the chair across the table, stretching his left arm over the back of the chair. By his body language, I would have been willing to bet his legs were wide open. I had a theory that men who sat that way were the alpha males. But despite his cockiness, he was quiet and serious, not the sort of guy I usually had a drink with. I had to mentally argue with myself, because if anything—the evening was becoming interesting.

An enigmatic smile lurked, but beneath it lurked something else…frustration.

“Are you a photographer?”

“No, why do you ask?” My camera had never come out of my purse the entire time I was in there.

“You were taking pictures on the street earlier; you seem to have a fascination with people. Unless you are a private investigator.” He studied me waiting for a response while tapping a gold ring he wore on the table. Not a wedding ring, I noted, as it was on his right hand. Was he kidding?

“I don’t stalk people for money, no.” I removed the lemon wedge from the rim and set it on the table. “My friend is the photographer; I thought I would impress him with my lack of skills. The atmosphere is different here than where I’m from. The people are interesting.”

“Some more than others.”

I wondered how he noticed me outside when it seemed he had plenty of other distractions in this fine establishment that reeked of onion rings and whore perfume. Not to say that I wasn’t flattered, but I had no intention of hooking up with a stalker…no thank you.

“Are you from around here?” I asked.

He closed his eyes slowly and when they opened, they sparkled—pleased that I was asking him a question. Justus shook his head. “No, just passing through.”

“So you’re a wanted felon on the run?” His eyes narrowed a fraction before we were interrupted.

“Can I get you anything, honey?” The waitress leaned over Justus making sure he had a criminal view of her open blouse.

Justus leaned to his left to keep his eyes locked on mine. “No, that will be all,” he answered.

Stacy (according to her nametag) ran a manicured hand down her tight black pants and I could tell that rejection stung. This guy was a real piece of work with how quickly he could turn off his interest in these women. She glared at me the way a woman does when she’s become the consolation prize and walked off.

“I do hope you are meeting with someone, Peaches. This isn’t the place for a female without an escort, and it is now evening.”

“So you’re saying I should have a male escort?” I snorted as I tapped my glass.

Justus leaned forward with his elbows on the table, letting his left hand fall across his tattooed bicep. He stroked it like a pet—rough and slow—so that I could hear the hiss of skin on skin. It was an obvious attempt towards directing attention to his body. With every methodical stroke, he watched. I grabbed a saltshaker and began mentally counting the holes on the lid. One, two, three, four, five…

“Are you not pleased by my body?”

The shaker slipped out of my hand spilling salt across the wooden table—an army of tiny granules scattered to the far corners. Dumbfounded, I laughed at the question.

“Not as pleased as you are.” I scooped up the salt and piled it on a napkin. Part of me thought he was visually handsome and wanted to flirt back, yet another part was still hung up on the fact that he completely expected it. “I’m sorry; I didn’t know debauchery was on the menu this evening.”

Through peripheral vision, I watched his face contort as a man provoked.

“What brings you here, Zoë?”

“A friend of mine is on a job assignment so I’m the tag-a-long. I’ve never been here so I wanted to see what it was like.”

“The photographer?”

“He’s working, I’m just sightseeing.”

“How do you find this city?”

My, wasn’t he proper with conversation? He gave off an air of refinement and superiority that just annoyed me. Did he think he was royalty? I had to wonder what it was about him that made every woman go into heat. He was hot, but he also wasn’t the only male on the premises. In fact, there was a pretty one sitting near the front door that I sent my eyes over to investigate.

Before I could answer, Justus peered over his shoulder following my gaze. Just then, he leaned enough to his right so that my view was obstructed.

Oh, right. Conversation
.

“It’s not bad here, I think the trees are beautiful and the culture is interesting, but it’s not Paris. Not that I would know what Paris looks like—of course I guess I can travel now if I wanted to.”

“So you are financially taken care of,” he thought aloud, silently drawing a conclusion.

I laughed, nearly spitting out my drink. I considered how I should answer while setting down my glass on the square napkin of salt. “If your asking if I’m a kept woman, then no.”

“What are you looking at?” I could see he was growing apprehensive.

“Nothing, just that thing over your eye.” He knew what I meant—Justus had a silver bar that ran through the top of his brow straight to the bottom. I didn’t particularly care for this type of piercing on a man.

His hand lightly touched it and I caught a flash of insecurity in that massive ego. If I didn’t know better I’d say Justus wasn’t used to anyone being honest with him, or for that matter disagreeing with him. This was a man who was used to getting his way and hearing what he wanted. Could I help it that this made me want to do it all the more?

“You don’t like it?”

I scratched at my earlobe pondering how to broach this with a little tact, something I wasn’t entirely good at. “Only that, you would look better without it. I mean you might as well get one of those bone things and put it in your nose. No offence, it’s just that for some reason I don’t get the piercing vibe from you. I’m not sure what kind of image you’re trying to project but you don’t need it.”

“Can I buy you dinner?”

I blinked.

I practically insulted the man and now he wanted to feed me.
What the hell just happened?

Of course I
was
hungry; I hadn’t eaten since we arrived. My face suddenly paled when I remembered Adam. He was going to call around nine—the thing about distractions is they always seem to come at the most inopportune time. If I wasn’t in the hotel when Adam returned, there was no telling what he would do. I didn’t know our hotel number, let alone Adam’s cell number.

“What time is it?” I grabbed my purse and looked around the bar. The clock on the wall was screaming 9:30pm with its arms.

“I’m sorry but I have to go!” I reached in my purse and snatched a dollar placing it under my glass as I stood up.

“Wait.” Justus held an arm out without touching me to get my attention. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I don’t have a car, I took the trolley.”

He frowned and dropped a $20 on top of my dollar bill.

“Is it still running? I need to get back right away!”

“You’ll be fine, white rabbit. I am escorting you to the station.”

I guess I got my male escort after all
.

I thought I overheard one of the girls at the bar spit up a hairball when they caught wind of what was going on.

“Umm…I’m not so sure that this is a good idea. I don’t—”

“You will accept my company,” he stated as fact, walking beside me as we approached the door.

“And how do I know you aren’t some kind of serial killer?”

Those serious brows lifted a fraction, bemused. “I should be offended. Why would you imply that?”

I stopped near the door. “Oh, I don’t know, your
prey
over there?” My arm swung theatrically towards the bar. Mascara lined eyes bore into the back of my skull, but I didn’t turn around.

“I don’t think I’d qualify as they are the ones stalking me,” he winked.

“I bet.”

“And what of this one?”

When I watched Justus set his hand on the shoulder of a man seated at the table, I blushed from head to toe. It was the dark haired man I was admiring earlier. He looked as strangely confused as I was and as he started to rise from his seat.

Justus pushed him back down giving me a wolfish grin that sent me running out the doorway…mortified.

Chapter 10

The streets were filled with a young crowd after dark—mostly drunk—and looking for fun.
 My eyes occasionally looked away from the tips of my shoes to the signs we passed. While I had adjusted to my new legs, I still didn’t trust that I wouldn’t go sailing across the dark concrete.

Justus tucked his hands in his pockets. For every two steps I made, he only took one. There was a comfort walking with him; I felt like I had a personal guard, even despite the fact he was a stranger I just met in a bar.

Another strange thing I noticed was how I didn’t have that empty feeling when I was with him.

“Why did you do that in there?” I asked combatively.

“Do?”

“Embarrass me?”
As if he didn’t know
.

There was a deep chuckle. “Apologies.”

Yet no regret. I muffled a grunt and took a deep breath of clean evening air.

“So Miss Zoë, Where are you visiting from?”

“We’re from Texas.”

He lowered his head and followed the swing of my hand, perhaps looking for a ring. When he got the answer he needed he continued. “Boyfriend?” I played with that idea for a minute before I responded.

“Ah, no. Just a friend.”

That filled a little corner of my heart knowing that I had a friend. Although once I got back to the hotel that remained to be seen.

Justus looked up when a car blew past us and muttered to himself, “Friends with benefits.”

I fell back just a pace. “Now that really stung. Do you think I just sleep around? You think just because a woman has a male friend she’s automatically sleeping with him? Don’t go around making blind assumptions because you’re probably wrong.”

He sighed, and I
almost
felt bad for snapping at him—except that he
almost
called me a whore. It wasn’t really what he said, but the way he said it that irked me. Otherwise, a comment like that I might have brushed off with a laugh.