Sleight of Hand
He growled in a husky voice that rolled over her like the music he made. Rough, raw, but somehow pure sex.
She was a politician, a woman in power, an intimidating presence, polished and poised with a core of steel.
He was a singer, not famous, but good with the guitar and rocking the punk look, dark, mysterious, hair falling into his eyes.
They met at the one bar that was her guilty pleasure, sneaking in to have a drink and unwind after a long week dodging and navigating the political waters. It was the one bar he was singing on Friday night too.
Neither of them thought the other would give them the time of day, were still thinking that even as their eyes met over the bar. But the sparks flew.
Throwing her a roguish grin, he nodded at the drink she had just gotten. “That’s on me” he growled in a husky voice that rolled over her like the music he made. Rough, raw, but somehow pure sex. She blushed but accepted his invite to share a table.
Sitting across each other at a booth in a corner, they both pretended they had something else to do. He was suddenly very interested in the table, and she, in the surroundings, though she had come here often enough to know the place by memory now.
Their booth with the polished wooden table overlooked the main dance floor, which was split in two by the long walkway raised for the dancers. She knew that to both sides of their current resting place stretched more booths, and above them the VIP area. Directly opposite them, the well-stocked bar glowed with neon lights, for some reason red today, a spiral staircase leading to the upper section where those tired of dancing could relax with their drinks.
Deciding to break the silence before it got awkward, she blurted out “I’m Melanie” Melanie?! She chastised herself internally. Could she have picked a more boring name? Sadly, what’s done was done.
He grinned at her, and for a split second, she felt like he’d seen through the lie, knew exactly who she was. “Hello, Melanie,” he purred. “I’m Dylan. Nice to meet you here today, alone” he emphasized the last word with his piercing gaze raking over her, making it clear that he liked her lack of company very much.
Shifting slightly in her seat, she blushed again. She had an adorable blush, he thought.
“So what brings you here today, Melanie?” he asked, a rough purr to his voice. His entire stance screamed confidence and raw appeal, and not just to her, judging by the jealous glances she could see leveled at her from the dance floor.
Damn, he was short-circuiting her brain, and she was a politician. And all by sitting next to her and asking her why she was here!
“Oh, you know,” she replied breezily, “the usual. Drinks. Music. Dance. Company.” The last word slipped out without her volition, more breathy than she would’ve liked. Stop being an idiot! she told herself, even as part of her brain, the part that longed to just let go for one night, tried to convince her to abandon all inhibitions.
“Mmmmm,” if his purr got any lower, she thought, she wouldn’t be the first one to abandon her inhibitions, judging by the people she saw out of the corner of her eyes. “I don’t know about the rest, but drinks and company are my specialty. In fact, let me get you another.” He was out of his seat before he had finished speaking, sauntering over to the bar to get them both another drink.
She took the break to mentally pour a bucket of ice water on to her brain. What was wrong with her? Sadie Burton did not lose control in any situation, especially not when some punk singer was just getting her a drink.
And the punk singer in question was back, setting his drink in front of her and sliding into the booth, stretching his arm out over the backrest. The motion made his fitted t-shirt strain against his muscles, throwing them into stark definition.
And just like that, the bucket of ice water vaporized into steam.
Trying to hide just how deeply he affected her, Sadie grabbed her drink and took a big gulp. His grin widened, an expression flickering past too fast for her to name it. “Is this your first time here, Melanie?” he asked, casually.
“No,” she said, relaxing a fraction because talking she could do, something she was born ready. “I come here almost every week.” He leaned forward, his dark hair falling into his eyes as his shockingly blue eyes held hers. “And why is that?”
Trying to remember how to breathe, Sadie answered without thinking.
“I like to unwind after a stressful week, things can get pretty rough,” she admitted.
“Your work must be pretty rough,” he commented.
Sadie froze, realizing she had talked herself into a corner.
“Yeah, it is. It’s…uhhhh…accounting!” she added, with happy inspiration. “Nothing worse than numbers to make your brain want to stop thinking.”
Boy, did her brain want to stop thinking, now.
He chuckled, a deep husky sound that was more potent than all the cocktails she had already had tonight combined. “I imagine it is,” he observed. He was about to say something else, when his phone chimed from his jacket pocket. Sliding out the basic model, his eyes scanned over the screen. “Pardon me, I have to reply to this. Family, you know.”
Her curiosity spiked, her politician instincts to know the other party taking over. “Oh?” she inquired, “siblings?” He didn’t look like the type to text his parents, and he wouldn’t be here looking so sinfully hot if he had a wife waiting for him at home. “Yeah,” he said, putting the phone aside. “So, where were we?”
And they spent a good 30 minutes talking. As more and more time went on, however, she started feeling faintly nauseous, until she decided regretfully that her plan of having company tonight was probably not going to happen.
“I have to go,” she said regretfully, gathering up her coat and purse. “Busy day tomorrow.” She had nothing to do on a Saturday. To his credit, if he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Melanie,” he said in that purr, kissing her hand in an old-fashioned gesture that had her knees going weak and cursing her own headache internally. “Hopefully I’ll see you next week,” she said optimistically. He laughed. “Oh, I doubt it.” And with that cryptic statement, he walked her to her cab, leaving her confused.
Walking back inside, he slid his phone out, the state of the art high tech model gleaming under the throbbing disco lights. Making a quick call, he put it back into his pocket before regarding the door and thinking about the blonde he’d just escorted to her cab. She had a certain charm about her, would’ve been an interesting person to get to know.
Too bad he had spiked her drink. After all, in his business, it didn’t help to form attachments. “It was nice meeting you, Sadie,” he murmured as he glanced down at the last text he had sent. Target eliminated.
