Modern Girl's Guide to One-Night Stands (3 page)

“Thank you…”

“Mark.”

“Thank you, Mark. But I already have a drink.”

He leaned in close and whispered against her neck. The smell of Jack and Coke hung around him like a cloud. “I was thinking about a nightcap in my room.”

Julia shivered and not in a good way. He made her want to run back up to her own room and shower. She put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back on his barstool. “Mark. I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested.”

“Of course you are. I saw the way you were watching us from across the room.” He traced down the length of her arm. “No need to play coy. I know just what you want."

Evidently, he was taking her polite no to really mean
Yes, but try harder
. Did women really do that? If Megan was here, she would have shot down this guy without breaking a sweat. Julia didn’t know how to navigate the bar scene. She was way out of her league. She caught the bartender's eye and sent him a pleading look.

“Is there a problem?” the tall, muscled man behind the bar asked.

“No problems. Just having a nice conversation with a beautiful woman,” Mark said, shooting the other man a sly wink.

John
, his shirt said, gave Julia a once-over and looked back to Mark. “I’ve already warned you guys once to stop harassing the other guests. I'm closing your tab. Now, go tell your friends to pack up the
party
or I’m calling security.”

“Fuck you.” Mark shoved his empty glass across the bar and stormed back to join his drunken cohorts.

“Thanks. He just wasn’t taking the hint.”

“No problem.” He topped off her drink and smiled. “Let me know if anyone else bothers you. Megan’s a friend of mine and I know she’d want me to look out for you.”

Julia finished her dinner without another interruption. John’s intimidating glare may have helped. By the time she was ready to go, the crowd had started to thin out. She could probably get a car now, but she wasn’t looking forward to the empty condo that awaited her. One more drink, then she’d head back to Megan’s. Back to reality.

Chapter Two

Modern Girl Tip #3: Pick The Right Man—Don’t lower your standards. Just because you’re looking for a hookup doesn’t mean you have to settle for the first guy who buys you a drink. Look for someone you’re attracted to, and who doesn’t set off your douche-o-meter.

The bar was too crowded and Simon wasn’t in the mood for drinks but his business partners insisted they celebrate.

And they had good reason. It had been a long month of negotiations and legal wrangling, but they’d finally acquired one of New York's oldest advertising agencies. It was exactly the kind of coup their growing marketing firm needed to expand into the global market. But while his friends were toasting their success, Simon knew this was just the beginning of the long, tedious process of merging the two companies.

When Simon, Peter, and Matt started Millennial Marketing six years ago, they had no idea their small local firm would take off. With their services in demand, branching off into print seemed like the next logical step, but Simon was worried they had taken on more than their small firm could handle.

“Loosen up,” Peter said. He sat down next to Simon and slapped him on the back. “You should be celebrating. You, my friend, pulled off the impossible. I never thought that old coot would sell at that price, but you managed it. Now, let’s have that drink.” He waved to the waitress, who sauntered up to their table with a smile. “I'd like a round of your finest single malt for me and my friends here. Make sure our glasses stay full and you’ll be well rewarded.”

“It would be my pleasure, Mr. Bradley.” The waitress smiled at him and winked.

After she left, Peter sat back and groaned. “We have been working too hard. That’s the most action I’ve gotten in months." He quickly scanned the room and smiled, a competitive glint lighting his eyes. “I think the redhead over by the front door is eying you. Five bucks says I can get the waitress’s number before you can get hers."

It was a game they used to play in college. Each of them picking a girl to seduce, with bets on who’d succeed first. Peter was smooth, but Simon could usually give him a run for his money. But they weren’t in college anymore, and the game wasn't nearly as charming when you were in your thirties. The sad fact was, after the last few months they’d had, Simon just wanted to go home and get some sleep. One, maybe two drinks, and then he’d make his escape.

“I’d love to stick around and watch you guys pick up girls, but I’ve got a real woman waiting for me at home,” Matt said, shaking his head. He looked at his watch for the second time since they’d sat down, and sighed. “I’m going to have my drink and leave. Beth just got home from Nicaragua last week, and I’d really like to spend some quality time with my wife. But by all means, have fun. You both deserve it.”

“See, Simon. Even Matt thinks you deserve that redhead,” Peter said. “It’s not even going to be a challenge. She’s had her eyes on you since we walked in.”

The young waitress brought back their drinks and Peter pulled out the charm. “So…”—he looked down at her name badge—“Samantha. You must be new here."

“I just started last week,” she replied, giggling. An honest to goodness giggle.

God, is this girl even out of high school?

“Have you had a tour of the hotel yet?” Peter looked over to Simon and smiled, a cat-that-ate-the-canary look plastered all over his face. “The view from the executive suites is spectacular. I just happen to have one reserved for the weekend. When is your shift over? I’d love to show it to you.”

Simon rolled his eyes and turned to Matt. “Is it just me or are the women in the bars getting younger?”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re the one getting older.” Matt picked up the scotch and gave him a commiserative toast. "I’m glad I’m off the market.”

“I take it things are still good since she took the new position?” Simon asked.

“Good doesn’t begin to describe it.”

Matt looked the part of the happily married man. Or at least that’s what Simon assumed someone in love looked like. He didn’t exactly have great examples to pull from in his life. “I meant what I said at your reception. She is your
better
half. You’re different with her. I don’t know—happier. Don’t screw that up again.”

“Fuck. Since when did we become the sisterhood of the traveling panties?” Peter handed him another drink and slid across the seat, resting his head on Simon’s shoulder. "Are you going to start talking about your periods next?”

“Oh, just you wait,” Matt said. “One of these days there will be a girl who will get under that thick skin of yours.”

“Too much hassle. I like being single.”

“Are you kidding?” Simon pushed Peter off him. “There’s no way any woman in their right mind would fall for this asshole.”

Matt’s phone buzzed. “Speak of the devil.” He swiped his finger across the screen and smiled at the message. He tapped out a quick reply. The phone buzzed again before he could put it down. Glancing at the screen, Matt’s eyes went wide. He licked his lips and quickly shoved the phone back in his pocket. “Sorry guys, I’m out of here. I just got a much better offer. Good luck with that redhead. I think you’ll need it.”

Simon looked back to the group of women, and saw the redhead in question raise a glass in his direction. She was tall and wispy. Her not-quite-natural red hair was pulled back, accentuating her long neck.

She was beautiful, and she was definitely interested. She noticed his attention and licked her lips suggestively. He could probably hook up with her tonight if he wanted. Simon didn’t have the time to date. And after the drama with his last steady relationship, he’d backed away from the social climbers. If he was going to start something, he wanted it to be with someone real. He was going to try to slip out before the redhead got any bolder.

“I think I’m calling it a night, too,” Simon said.

“It’s not even nine. I’m staying. I think that waitress is into me.”

“Good luck, man.”

Simon grabbed his jacket and went to the bar to order a sandwich to take home. He tried to find a quiet spot to catch the bartender’s attention. John was at the far end of the bar, so Simon headed that direction. “Hey, John. Looks like you have a lively crowd tonight."

The bartender shook his head, and rubbed down the counter in front of Simon. “A Big Pharma convention.”

Simon looked back over his shoulder to the redhead and laughed. He should have guessed. She had
sales
written all over her designer suit. “Pharmaceutical, huh? Doesn’t surprise me. The way that redhead was eye-fucking me, I bet she’s pushing Viagra.”

There was a loud guffaw next to him and he turned to see a petite woman sitting in the corner. He had completely missed her when he came up to the bar. When she noticed him staring, she ducked her head, a bright blush staining her cheeks.

“What?” Simon asked. “Don’t you think so?"

When she looked up from her drink, misty blue-gray eyes met his gaze. She looked surprised and a little irritated that he was talking to her.

“If I were marketing the drug, she’s exactly the person I’d send in. She’s confident enough,” he said, trying to goad her into a conversation.

The mystery woman turned to look at the redhead in question, tilting her head a bit. There was a sharp focus in those eyes now. Simon took the opportunity to get a good look at her.

She wasn’t wearing a convention badge, but that didn’t mean much. She could have taken it off, but still he didn’t think so. She wasn't dressed like the rest of the crowd, wearing jeans and a sweater as opposed to suits and party dresses. The clothes fit her well and they looked expensive. Her rusty auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail that fell in ringlets down her back. Even casually dressed she looked put-together and polished. She could easily be a society wife on vacation in the Windy City. He looked for a ring, but she had her hand tucked in her pocket.

Whoever she was, she’d definitely caught his interest. She was quite striking in an unconventional way, with her wide eyes and a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks that most women would try to cover. Simon couldn’t believe he had overlooked her.

The woman turned back and smiled at him as if she knew a secret. The smile transformed her face.

“I stand by my original impression. Not Viagra. She’s far too sharp. Too aggressive and forward. My bet is on a cancer drug. Something that might as easily kill you as cure you. Now the blond next to her, she’d be who I’d pick to sell Viagra. She’s soft and curvy, with those big bedroom eyes. She’s got that naughty librarian look down, don't you think?”

Simon turned back and looked at the group of women again. Now that she had pointed it out, he saw the sharp edges and hard lines in the redhead’s clothing and mannerisms. She did look aggressive. And the blond had large round eyes and pouty lips that screamed sex appeal. He looked down at the woman sitting next to him, amazed that she saw all that in just a few seconds.

He scanned the crowd again. A man near the door caught his eye. He was lean and reserved, and reminded Simon of a funeral director. “What about the guy in the purple shirt?” Simon asked, making a game out of it.

“Blood pressure medication, for sure. Look how calm and relaxed he is. And the guy next to him,” she said with a laugh in her voice, really getting into it now. “Look at the way he dominates the conversation. He’s loud and boisterous. I’d bet he peddles some kind of social anxiety meds. He screams ‘life of the party.'”

“And you? What kind of drug are you selling?” Simon asked.

She blushed again and tucked a fallen lock behind her ear. “I’m not with the convention.”

“On vacation?” he asked.

“No, not really. I’m in the process of moving. I spent the week here while I got settled.”

She looked away and Simon got the impression that wasn’t the whole story, but he wasn’t about to press it. He was enjoying their conversation, and if she didn’t want to talk about her move, he was fine with that.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, looking down at her empty glass.

She bit her lip, and didn’t look up.

Simon was afraid she was going to send him away and he tried to put her at ease. “A soda, maybe. I’m not trying to get you drunk or anything.”