Bullseye: Seal. Carol Ericson
wanted him to act on it. Her trepidation had more to do with the fact that she didn’t trust her instincts anymore rather than the fact that she hadn’t dated since Ricky’s assassination.
Maybe if she just pretended this was a work function, she wouldn’t fall under Josh’s spell. She’d keep her guard up and her .22 close.
The elevator landed in the lobby, and she crossed the marble tiles to the front door, waving at Enrique, the security guard at the desk.
Stepping into the night air of Miami, she inhaled the slightly sweet and spicy scent carried on a light breeze. She noticed this smell only here in South Beach—a combination of the perfumes and colognes of the women and men out for a night on the town and the savory odors from the restaurants lining the sidewalks and the occasional food truck hawking authentic Cuban food.
The bar she’d picked for her date with Josh got a good crowd on weeknights, but didn’t command the standing room–only business of some other, more popular clubs. Cicero’s would do for a quick drink and some informal chatter—that’s all she could commit to right now.
She made a left turn at the corner and crossed the street. Squaring her shoulders and hugging her purse to her chest, she stepped into the bar and did a quick survey of the room.
Josh, sitting at a corner table facing the doorway, raised his hand.
Gina wove between the high cocktail tables until she reached the corner of the bar. As she approached, Josh stood up and grabbed her chair, holding it out for her.
Ricky had always done that, too—didn’t mean a damned thing.
“Thank you.” She scooted the chair closer to the table, hanging her purse over the back, gun compartment on the outside. “Have you been waiting long?”
“I got here about fifteen minutes early. You’re right on time.” He tapped the glass in front of him. “I just got some water, but I hope we see that waitress again. It’s busy for a weeknight.”
Gina turned an appraising eye on the scene—attractive waitresses, a good number of bartenders hustling up drinks and sharp busboys cleaning up tables as fast as customers vacated them. “Management’s on the ball here. We won’t wait long.”
The waitress appeared at their table seconds later, as if she’d heard Gina’s assessment. “Ready to order now?”
“I’d like a mojito, please. The house rum is fine.”
“Sounds way too exotic for me. I’ll have a beer, please. What do you have on tap?”
The waitress reeled off a list of beers from memory, and Josh selected an IPA.
Gina folded her hands on the table. “Have you given any more thought to that town house?”
“I might want to see a few more.” Josh quirked an eyebrow at her. “Do you have any more to show me?”
“I can show you whatever you like.” She bit her bottom lip. Did that sound like a come-on? She had to admit that Josh looked fine tonight—his short, almost black hair slicked back and a sexy scruff on his jaw.
She cleared her throat. “I mean, I can show you condos outside our own office’s listings. Just tell me what you like.”
His dark eyes glittered as they seemed to drill into her.
“I mean, tell me what you’d like to see...in a condo.” She grabbed a menu tucked against the wall and skimmed the appetizers without seeing a thing.
Josh’s intensity was off the charts up close and personal like this, face-to-face over a small table. With that stare burning a hole in her, anything she said sounded like a double entendre.
“I like that area. Maybe I’ll make a list for you.” Josh tapped the edge of the menu. “Do you want to order some food?”
“Not really.” She blinked at the menu in her hands and then held it out to him. “Do you?”
“No, thanks.”
The waitress saved her from any more inane conversation by delivering their drinks.
Gina poked at the mint leaves with her skinny green straw. “Where do you live now?”
“I’m new to Miami. I’m staying in a hotel not far from here.” He took a sip from his beer, watching her over the rim of his mug.
Why did it seem as if they were having a conversation as a subtext to the words they were speaking? Every word from their lips felt loaded with meaning. Was it just this crazy attraction between them? She’d felt crazy attractions before—they never ended well.
If he could afford to stay in a hotel in South Beach long-term, he could afford a nice little town house just about anywhere in Miami.
She sucked up some of her drink and the cool mint tingled against her tongue. “Staying in a hotel must get...tiresome.”
“There are certain advantages. I don’t have to clean up after myself, or cook.” He winked.
She studied his face. The wink didn’t match the man. It was almost as if Josh was pretending to be someone he wasn’t, or maybe she’d gone from not trusting her instincts to analyzing every word and every facial tick.
“How about you? I assumed you picked this bar because it was close to where you lived. Are you in South Beach?”
“We’re temporarily staying with my mother, who has a condo here.”
“We?” He casually curled a hand around his beer mug, but his knuckles appeared white.
She dragged her gaze away from his hand gripping the glass and met his dark eyes. Maybe he thought she was ready to spring a husband on him. Would a child be worse?
“My son and I. I have an almost three-year-old.”
“That’s great. Pictures?”
“Really? I don’t want to bore you.” Was this an act? Feign interest in the kid to get to the mom? Was this something men did? The last time she’d dated she didn’t have a child, so this was new ground for her.
“Family pictures don’t bore me.”
Her fingers traced over the weapon stashed in her purse as she reached for her cell phone. Cupping it in her hand, she tapped her phone until she found a few current pictures of RJ.
“Here he is.” She held the phone sideways in the middle of the table, so they could both see it. She had no intention of handing her phone over to him.
“Cute little guy.”
She swept her finger to the next photo. “Here he is with his newfound friend from daycare.”
Josh squinted at the picture. “They look like buds.”
She pulled the phone back. “My son just started going to that daycare, so I’m happy he made such a fast friend.”
The waitress dipped next to their table with two more drinks.
Josh glanced up. “We didn’t order another round.”
“I know.” She slapped down a cocktail napkin and placed the second mojito on top of it. “A friend of yours at the bar ordered one for you.”
Gina twisted her head to the left, her gaze tripping over the patrons at the bar. “I don’t see anyone I know. Did she give her name?”
“He and no.” The waitress shrugged and spun around to return to the bar.
Josh downed the rest of his first beer and pulled the second one toward him. “You have generous friends.”
“Are you sure it’s not one of your friends? I don’t see any of my friends at the bar, not that I have many here in Miami.”
“I don’t have any.” He clinked his glass with hers. “Maybe it was a mistake.