Push & Pull by Maya Tayler Page A

ugliest
woman there. It wouldn’t have mattered. I was in their hunting ground now. They
laughed at unimportant jokes and pretended to be much more inebriated than they
really were while men sized them up. Pathetic. I was that girl once.
    The bartender motioned at me, “What
are you drinking?”
    “Scotch, neat.” His eyebrows
flickered with amusement as he began to pour. I scanned the room for flashy mustard
shoes but the dim lights lent nothing to my cause. It was going to be a long
night. Taking a hearty swig of the amber colored liquid, I allowed it to burn
down my throat. The sting made me feel like I was alive.
    “You know, gentlemen prefer blondes,”
a deep, soothing voice said from behind me. I didn’t bother to turn as I took
another drag of scotch.
    “I’m a redhead.”
    “And I’m no gentleman,” he replied.
His hand met softly with the small of my back as he flexed his palm inward,
breaking the physical barrier. Clever.
    I turned to him, met by fiery emerald
green eyes and a solid, square jaw. Each side of his face smeared with charcoal
stubble that opposed the neatly kept locks resting upon his head. He was
handsome. And if I needed further proof a faint scar adorned the upper left
part of his lip. It was only noticeable when he opened his mouth to speak
again.
    "Brandy?" He gestured
towards my glass. Instead, I glanced down at his shoes. Slate colored Armani
boots. Hot. But this wasn't my mark.
    "I'm not interested."
    "Why? Do you prefer
blondes?" He flashed a winning smirk before signaling to the bartender to
get me another drink.
    “I prefer manners. You didn’t ask if
you could touch me.” I gave a curt smile and turned to leave when he caught my
arm.
    “What’s your name, Red?” Red. Yeah,
I’d never heard that before. Couldn’t this guy take a hint? I searched the room
again for the shoes but it was useless. I could have sworn it was getting
darker as the night carried on. I needed to shake this guy and soon or he might
ruin any chance I had at Lucca…if I ever found him.
    “Claire. My name is Claire. Now, will
you let go of me?” I snapped, yanking my arm away from him. His features
softened and he withdrew his hands in an apologetic manner.
    “Usually any woman showing that much
skin wants the attention. I just wanted you to join me and my colleague for a
drink.” He gestured toward a booth on the back wall of the restaurant. Another
man sat slouched towards the end of the booth, holding a drink and impatiently
tapping his foot. He was wearing mustard colored dress shoes.
    “Sure!” I blurted out before he could
say another word. My eagerness didn’t seem to surprise him as he placed a hand
on me again and guided me toward the back of the room.
    “My name is Liam,” he said, allowing
me to scoot into the booth first. A few more sentences tumbled out of his mouth
but I had a hard time catching them. As the amount of patrons rose so had the
noise level. I politely shook hands with the other man, Lucca, and he proceeded
to pound his drink. Perfect , I thought. Let’s get this show on the
road.
    The three of us made small talk while
I attempted to engage Lucca. Nothing. He muttered some nonsense about work and
seemed alarmed when I placed my hand on his knee. Maybe he wasn’t an easy mark
after all. Maybe Jill had found someone she could truly dominate. He certainly
wasn’t anything to write home about. Sure, he was handsome in a safe kind of
way. Pristine black hair, clean shaven, with a dimple pressed into his chin.
But his skin seemed sallow under the muted lighting and the suit he wore sagged
around his shoulders. He had poor posture or needed a new tailor. Either way,
his inability to sustain my attention made me listen more closely to Liam whom,
to my surprise, wasn’t a complete douche.
    When the waiter came by Liam was
polite, bought another round, and kept his hands to himself. He even managed to
get Lucca to talk more, or maybe that was the alcohol. I attempted once