Twisted (30 page)

her steak back to the kitchen if it’s cooked wrong, in a way that

doesn’t make the waiter want to spit in her food.

The bartender raises his brows and gives me a friendly look.

“You got a live one here, buddy.”

Dee swings back over the bar as I say, “So it seems.”

Once Delores is seated on her stool, I comment, “That was

impressive. So, I guess you’re big on the micromanaging, huh?”

She sips her drink. “I bartended through college—it made me

very particular about my poison.”

I take a drag off my beer and move into the small talk portion

of the evening. “Kate tells me you’re a chemist. What’s that like?”

“It’s like playing with a chemistry set every day and getting

paid to do it. I enjoy analyzing things—breaking them down to

their smallest components—and then fucking with them a little.

Seeing what other substances they play nice with . . . or don’t. The
don’t
part can get pretty exciting. Sort of makes me feel like I’m on a bomb squad.”

She stirs her olive in the glass. “And you’re a banker?”

I nod. “More or less.”

“That sounds very unexciting.”

My head tilts to the right as I consider her comment. “Depends

on your outlook. Some deals are a high-stakes gamble. Making

money is never boring.”

Dee turns on her stool, facing me.

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11/18/13 11:47 AM

Body language is important. Typically, a person’s movements

are subconscious, but understanding the feelings behind them

can either guide you to the promised land or get your ass locked

outside heaven’s door. If a girl folds her arms or leans back, that generally means you’re coming on too strong or she’s not interested in what you’re selling. Eye contact, open arms, full frontal attention, are all sure signs she’s feeling you—and is hungry for

more.

her eyes quickly trail my body, head to toe. “You don’t look

like a banker.”

I grin. “What does a banker look like?”

She scans the other patrons at the bar and in the lounge. her

gaze settles on a middle-aged balding dude in a cheap suit, hun-

kered down over a double scotch, whose expression implies he’s

lost his life savings in a stock market crash.

Dee points at him with her crimson-nailed pinkie. “him.”

“he looks like a mortician. Or a pedophile.”

She giggles and downs the rest of her martini.

Leaning close to her, I ask, “If not a banker, what do I look

like?”

She smiles slowly and scrapes the olive off the toothpick with

her teeth.

“You look like a Chippendale’s dancer.”

Fabulous answer
. I don’t really need to explain why, do I?

In a low, seductive voice I say, “I do have some great moves. If

banking doesn’t work out, Chippendale’s is Plan B.”

I motion to the bartender for another round. Delores closely

watches him work and he must not screw it up, because she smiles

when he places the drink before her.

Then, to me, she says, “So . . . your buddy, Drew—he’s been

giving my girl a hard time. Not a smart thing to do.”

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“Drew has a weird relationship with competition. he thrives

on it, but it also pisses him off. And Kate hasn’t exactly been taking it easy on him. She brings her A-game to the office—I think she

can hold her own.”

“Well, you feel free to let him know he should watch his step.

I’m very protective of Katie—we Ohioans stick together.”

“But you’re in New York now. We’re ‘Every Man for his-Fuck-

ing-Self.’ It’s the second motto of Manhattan—right after ‘The

City That Never Sleeps.’ ”

her eyes shine as she laughs. And I think the first drink might

be hitting her hard.

“You’re cute,” she tells me.

My head leans back in exasperation. “Great.
Cute
. The adjective every man wants to hear.”

She laughs again, and I’m struck by how much I’m enjoying

myself. Dee Warren is a cool girl—unreserved, quick witted, funny.

Even if I don’t end up nailing her, the night won’t be a total loss.

That’s not to say I’m not dying to get her out of here and see

what’s—or, preferably, what’s not—under those tiny shorts. But

it’d be like rich icing on an already awesome cake. another round. Delores clos

Body language is important. Typically, a person’s movements

are subconscious, but understanding the feelings behind them

can either guide you to the promised land or get your ass locked

outside heaven’s door. If a girl folds her arms or leans back, that generally means you’re coming on too strong or she’s not interested in what you’re selling. Eye contact, open arms, full frontal attention, are all sure signs she’s feeling you—and is hungry for

more.

her eyes quickly trail my body, head to toe. “You don’t look

like a banker.”

I grin. “What does a banker look like?”

She scans the other patrons at the bar and in the lounge. her

gaze settles on a middle-aged balding dude in a cheap suit, hun-

kered down over a double scotch, whose expression implies he’s

lost his life savings in a stock market crash.

Dee points at him with her crimson-nailed pinkie. “him.”

“he looks like a mortician. Or a pedophile.”

She giggles and downs the rest of her martini.

Leaning close to her, I ask, “If not a banker, what do I look

like?”

She smiles slowly and scrapes the olive off the toothpick with

her teeth.

“You look like a Chippendale’s dancer.”

Fabulous answer
. I don’t really need to explain why, do I?

In a low, seductive voice I say, “I do have some great moves. If

banking doesn’t work out, Chippendale’s is Plan B.”

I motion to the bartender for another round. Delores closely

watches him work and he must not screw it up, because she smiles

when he places the drink before her.

Then, to me, she says, “So . . . your buddy, Drew—he’s been

giving my girl a hard time. Not a smart thing to do.”

Twisted_1P.indd 252

11/18/13 11:47 AM

“Drew has a weird relationship with competition. he thrives

on it, but it also pisses him off. And Kate hasn’t exactly been taking it easy on him. She brings her A-game to the office—I think she

can hold her own.”

“Well, you feel free to let him know he should watch his step.

I’m very protective of Katie—we Ohioans stick together.”

“But you’re in New York now. We’re ‘Every Man for his-Fuck-

ing-Self.’ It’s the second motto of Manhattan—right after ‘The

City That Never Sleeps.’ ”

her eyes shine as she laughs. And I think the first drink might

be hitting her hard.

“You’re cute,” she tells me.

My head leans back in exasperation. “Great.
Cute
. The adjective every man wants to hear.”

She laughs again, and I’m struck by how much I’m enjoying

myself. Dee Warren is a cool girl—unreserved, quick witted, funny.

Even if I don’t end up nailing her, the night won’t be a total loss.

That’s not to say I’m not dying to get her out of here and see

what’s—or, preferably, what’s not—under those tiny shorts. But

it’d be like rich icing on an already awesome cake. another round. Delores clos

Body language is important. Typically, a person’s movements

are subconscious, but understanding the feelings behind them

can either guide you to the promised land or get your ass locked

outside heaven’s door. If a girl folds her arms or leans back, that generally means you’re coming on too strong or she’s not interested in what you’re selling. Eye contact, open arms, full frontal attention, are all sure signs she’s feeling you—and is hungry for

more.

her eyes quickly trail my body, head to toe. “You don’t look

like a banker.”

I grin. “What does a banker look like?”