Lovers by Christmas: by Angelita Gill

CHAPTER ONE
    One month before Christmas…
    The Dame & Dapper was one of those places where one didn’t feel weird walking in alone. An establishment where patrons came to hear the live music, drink the specialty Prohibition-era cocktails, and converse in low voices. Not the place to carouse and party. Exactly what Thea was looking for. It was also a venue Ben never took her, and therefore a safe place where her heart didn’t pang with memories.
    A nice alternative to the chain bars, The Dame & Dapper was darker than dark with its red paisley wallpaper, piquant, circular tables dotting around the space, one long bar, and a small stage for live performances of piano players, lounge singers, and the occasional burlesque show. It was currently sprinkled with a decent number of patrons for a Friday night, but not packed.
    Thea found an open stool at the bar, and selected one of her favorite drinks from the menu. The mixologist in the suspenders and flat cap smiled and created her request.
    She drew in a deep breath, then sighed. The nights were the hardest without Ben. Especially this time of year. She’d spent Thanksgiving with her friend Simon and a few others, grateful for the company, but still felt so very alone.
    Even though it’d been over two years since Ben passed away, the holidays didn’t get any less agonizing. He’d been her comfort and joy, and she felt his loss the most during Christmas. They’d shared a warm, loving relationship for three years, but she always knew she’d never have him forever. He’d had a weak heart since childhood, and one day, he became gravely ill, never completely recovered, and passed away in the hospital. It’d been peaceful and expected, but nonetheless devastating.
    He’d probably frown at her going to bars by herself, but she was tired of staying home, staring at a decorated tree, depressed and bored. During the day, she had plenty to keep herself occupied, but at night, she longed for someone to be close to again.
    In the past two years, she’d let two men try and fail.
    Simply put, there’d been no connection with those men. Companionship was easy to come by, but something deeper than that wasn’t, and at the age of thirty-one, she wasn’t really interested in artificial relationships that started out on a phone app. She’d done that with only disappointing results.
    Having a man next to her in bed was nice, but she didn’t need one there.
    She slept better alone.
    Sipping her cocktail, she listened to the singer on stage croon about love lost while her pianist floated his fingers on the piano with an e-cig hanging from his mouth. Her voice reached every corner of the room with its vibrant richness and soulful depth. Enough to make anyone yearn for love.
    Thea sensed someone watching her. To her left, in the corner booth. She straightened her shoulders and tried to ignore him. There was nothing annoying about it, but it was still discomfiting. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed that way.
    The only things the low lighting revealed were two long, masculine legs in dark dress pants, one ankle set on a knee. The rest of him hidden. She imagined the man was lounging, arms draped across the back in an elegant, casual—watchful—pose. It was as if an energy called to her to keep her attention to her left, even though she wanted to look straight ahead.
    Concentrating on the singer was now ruined.
    She sipped her cocktail and crossed her legs, a tingling awareness creeping up her spine with slow progression.
    Movement from her peripheral had her fighting not to flicker a glance at the man who’d risen from the booth. He moved like a panther around the small tables as he stalked to the end of the bar. The hairs on Thea’s nape stood, and finally unable to stand it, she moved her gaze in his direction.
    From what she could discern, he had a sharp nose, jaw, and cheekbones, dark brows, and dark hair. She couldn’t look away, and he didn’t attempt to hide his