Caroselli's Baby Chase. Michelle Celmer
him one fine-boned hand with short, neatly filed nails. “Carrie—”
Her last name was drowned out by the blare of a noisemaker. She shook his hand, her grip surprisingly firm for someone so petite and delicate-looking.
“Hi, Carrie, I’m Rob.”
“Nice to meet you, Ron,” she said.
He opened his mouth to correct her, but she flashed him a smile so easy and sweet, so disarming, she could call him anything she wanted and it wouldn’t have mattered to him. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She cocked her head to one side and smiled. “Are you hitting on me?”
He had never been the type to flirt, but he heard himself saying, “Would it be a problem if I was?”
She leaned forward to study him and his gaze was naturally drawn to the deep cleft at the front of her low-cut sweater. “I guess that just depends.”
“On what?”
“Why a man like you would be sitting here alone at eleven-fifteen on New Year’s Eve.”
“A man like me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even try to pretend that you don’t know how hot you are. You should have women crawling all over you.”
“I’m alone because my date left with someone else.”
She blinked. “Was she blind or just stupid?”
He laughed. “Bored, I think. I’m not in a mood to celebrate.”
Although the night was definitely looking up.
“You must have a girlfriend,” she said.
He shook his head.
“Wife?”
He held up his ringless left hand.
She paused, then asked, “Gay?”
He laughed again. “Straight as an arrow.”
“Hmm,” she said, looking puzzled. “Are you a jerk?”
She sure didn’t pull any punches. He liked a woman who was direct and to the point. “I’d like to believe I’m not, but I suppose everyone has their moments.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Honesty…I like that. My answer is yes. You can buy me a drink.”
“What would you like?”
She nodded to his glass. “Whatever you’re having.”
He looked around, but the waitresses in the vicinity were overwhelmed with customers, so he figured it would be quicker to go right to the source. “Be right back,” he said, heading for the bar.
It took several minutes to navigate through the crowd, and another five or ten before the bartender served him. As he walked back to the table, he half expected Carrie to be gone. He was pleasantly surprised to find her sitting there waiting for him, and suddenly grateful that he wouldn’t have to watch the ball drop alone. He might even get a New Year’s kiss out of it. Or maybe that would be pushing his luck. Maybe just a quick one, or if she wasn’t into kissing a total stranger, a peck on the cheek even.
“Here you go.” He set her drink in front of her and reclaimed his chair.
“That took so long, I started to think you left,” she said.
“And I wasn’t sure if you would still be here when I got back.”
“I’m not blind or stupid,” she said with a grin, and he felt a tug of attraction so intense, he nearly reached across the table for her hand.
“Do you live in the area?” she asked, sipping her drink.
“Lincoln Park.”
“Is that far from here?”
“Not too far. I take it you’re not from Chicago.”
“West Coast born and bred. I’m here for work. I’m staying in the hotel. That’s how I wound up in this particular bar.”
“You must have someone back home.”
“Not for a while.”
“Are the men there blind or just stupid?”
She smiled, and he felt that tug again, only this time it was lower, and it wasn’t her hand he wanted to touch. That New Year’s kiss was sounding even more appealing. He would have to call Olivia tomorrow and thank her for dragging him out.
“A lot of men feel threatened by a strong, successful woman,” she said.
Rob had quite a few strong, successful women in his family, and compared to them, Carrie looked anything but threatening. His first instinct, when she had approached his table, was to pick her up and hug her.
“I also have the tendency to gravitate toward men who are bad for me,” she said.
“Bad for you how?”
“I like jerks. It’s my way of sabotaging the relationship before it even begins.” She sipped her drink. “I have intimacy issues.”
“If you know that, then why don’t you date someone different?”
“Knowing what the problem is doesn’t necessarily make it any easier to fix.”
Well, she had the honesty thing down to a science. The women he met typically played up their good qualities, not their faults. Which he couldn’t deny was, in an odd way, a refreshing change of pace. A sort of “this is me, take it or leave it” philosophy.
“When was your last serious relationship?” he asked.
“I’ve never really had one.”
“Really? What are you? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”
Carrie laughed. “Aren’t you good for my ego. I’m twenty-eight.”
“I’ve never met a woman past the age of eighteen who hasn’t been in at least one serious relationship.”
“Which you clearly find fascinating,” she said, looking amused.
“I do.” In more ways than just that. She was like the perfect woman. Sexy, desirable, with a decent sense of humor and completely uninterested in a relationship. Had he hit the jackpot or what?
“How about you?” Carrie asked. “Ever been in a serious relationship?”
“Engaged, but that was a long time ago. Back in college.”
“What happened?”
“You could say that we wanted different things.”
“What did you want?”
He shrugged. “Marriage, kids, the usual stuff.”
“What did she want?”
“My roommate, Evan.”
She winced. “Ouch.”
“Better I found out what she was like before we were married than after. At that point I decided to focus on my career.”
“So you’re married to your job?”
“More or less.”
“It’s not unusual for me to work fourteen-hour days, so I totally get that.”
She would be the first woman who ever did. And he found himself wishing she were staying in Chicago longer than a few days. She was someone he wouldn’t mind getting to know better.
After talking for a few minutes more, and some serious flirting, they had both drained their glasses, so he hailed a waitress for two more drinks. There was more talking, more flirting—but mostly flirting—then Carrie had a third drink, and by then it was nearly midnight. At one minute till,