Oceans Apart Book 1 (Oceans Apart #1)(2)
“Why, yes, I think I am,” Kari replied to his question with a grin. “This is my friend Ginny.” She pointed. “Right now she’s having an issue believing she’s hot. So I thought, why not get a second opinion, right? And there you were sitting alone and drinking what looks like a Jack and Coke, so you seemed like the perfect person to help out.”
I wondered if it were possible to suddenly turn invisible. I could feel my cheeks getting hotter and hotter from embarrassment, and when the bartender slid a new drink in front of me, I grabbed it and took a hurried gulp, damn near choking in the process.
“Well, it is very kind of you to try and help your friend like that,” the man said, and he turned around on the barstool to look at us properly. His eyes slipped from Kari to me, and I could feel the way he was looking at me. His gaze was just shy of being predatory, and it was all I could do to force myself to stand there, my fingers in a death grip on my glass.
I knew exactly how I looked. Just barely over five feet tall, with long dark hair that I had curled and let fall where it wanted to just before I’d left the house that evening. My dress was an online find, a deep crimson vintage number, which hugged my waist before flaring out over my curvy hips. People always complimented me on it when I wore it out, but now I was wondering if it made me look fat and if this man was about to tell me so.
I fidgeted a little and looked up to meet his eyes, startled when there was something warm in them that matched the smile curving over his face.
“I’d have to say you’re wrong there, ma’am,” he said, finally tearing his eyes from my face to look at Kari. “Hot is not a proper word to describe Ginny here. I would go for something like…stunning or gorgeous…delectable. Maybe even delightful.”
Oh. Well. Fuck.
That wasn’t at all what I was expecting him to say, but from the huge grin spreading over Kari’s face, it was exactly the sort of reaction she was looking for. “You have good taste, sir, and a fine accent to boot. I’m Kari, you’ve already been introduced to Ginny, so why don’t you tell us your name?”
“How rude of me,” he said, leaning an elbow on the smooth wood of the bar. “Name’s Tristan. A pleasure to meet both of you lovely ladies.”
“Is your accent real or the same as a padded bra?” Kari asked.
“Kari!” I groaned, not knowing how she could say something like that to this gorgeous stranger.
“I’m…not sure I understand,” Tristan said, looking confused.
I sighed. “She means…you know how women put on padded bras before they go out so they seem like they’ve got bigger…um…assets?”
“Ah.” Tristan laughed, and it was a deep, rumbly sound I could hear easily over the music. “No, I didn’t just put the accent on for the night. I’m visiting your fair city from London. On business.”
“Ooh, a businessman,” Kari chimed in, leaning her chin on her hands and batting her eyes at him. “Tell us more.”
A look passed over Tristan’s face and he shook his head. “I don’t like to talk about work on a Friday night, you know. Especially not when in the company of two lovely young women. Not when there are drinks to be had and whatever this song that’s playing is blaring so charmingly through my eardrums.”
That made me laugh, and I sheepishly covered my mouth with my hand to avoid giggling out loud. He smiled warmly at me and then slipped down from the barstool, offering his hand to both of us. “Would you ladies care to dance? Seems a shame to waste this lively beat.”
Kari and I exchanged glances, and I could see the scheming behind her eyes before she even opened her mouth. “Ginny loves dancing, don’t you, Gin?” she said, pushing me forward with a not-at-all subtle hand at my back. “Me, I prefer to stay by the bar. Never know what you might see from over here. But you two have fun now.” She waggled her fingers at Tristan and me in a clear “go on” signal.
We were still giggling when he took my hand and led me away from the bar and into the writhing mass that was the dance floor. The song changed to something slower with a good beat I vaguely recognized from the radio.
Despite not being from LA, Tristan looked like a native in his dark jeans and tight t-shirt, and it could have been a somewhat shabby look for a club like this, but it was clear he wore expensive clothes. He had no problem blending in with the other men in their button-downs and slacks. And he looked better and more comfortable than any of them. Before we’d even stepped onto the dance floor properly, his body was moving to the beat, as he grinned and held onto my hand, suddenly twirling me around.
I couldn’t help but smile and laugh as I danced with him, forgetting to be nervous or self-conscious for a while. There was something in the way he carried himself, the confident bravado I could feel radiating from him, that made me feel more at ease with him as well.
We couldn’t talk much over the pounding music, but apparently, we didn’t need to. We swayed together easily, staying close to each other, even though I could see the other women around us eyeing him up and down and why wouldn’t they? There was something almost exotic about Tristan, and it was clear that everyone in the room could feel it as well.
But for the moment at least, his attention was on me and only me. He pulled me closer to him, dancing right up to me as the music blasted throughout the club. Those blue eyes were so often on my face, though they occasionally traveled down my body to my hips, which were moving in time to the beat. I’m not the best dancer, but I have fairly good rhythm and didn’t have any trouble keeping up with him.