Operation One Night Stand (3 page)

“No.
I’m done the Friday before Thanksgiving.”

“Good, because the three of us are spending Thanksgiving in Jamaica.”

“What?”

“We all need to decompress, Care.
I need to get away from school, Mel needs to back away from her job for a bit, and you need, well, you need this, too.
I’m not taking no for an answer.
I’m booking the second I get off the phone with you.”

I guess spontaneity was the lesson for chapter one point five of the plan.
“Book it.”

Part two was a little dicier, a little less old me and a lot more new me.
But then again, Operation One Night Stand was a go and I had two weeks to get up the nerve to go through with it.
At least I’d be on a plane out of town soon after, so I’d be able to obsess about it in a different country.

I was going to step out into the sun and live my life.
And I’d spend a week in Jamaica with my two best friends doing just that.

N
othing like bar hopping in late November snow.
My cute beige heels already had salt scuffing the toes and my brand-new Sevens were wet at the cuff and we’d hit only two bars.
Thankfully I knew the second we walked into Murphy’s I’d make good on my bet.

Operation One Night Stand was on.
Melody and Sarah thought it would be fun to turn the whole thing into an actual bet.
Since I had control over the who and the when, the bet was against the fact that I’d find someone on the first night.
Sarah and Mel, knowing that I wasn’t the most adventurous of our group, bet me fifty bucks that I’d back out and try again another night.
Unfortunately for them, I hadn’t had sex in two months and I was hurting for a good romp.
Of course, I let them think they had me.
Two bars down and not a single prospect?
Not likely for most.
Especially in a college town.
Then again, I wasn’t a college girl.
Four years after I finished grad school and I was still trolling the local scene for the one-nighter I’d never experienced.
My life apparently sucked.
That, or I was still reeling over my breakup with Steven.
Or the fact that I’d just completed my last day at the firm.
Whatever.
Not the thing to focus on.
I was on the prowl, much to the chagrin of my small, tight group of friends.
Maybe Melody, who I met the first day of freshman bio, was right: maybe I was going off the deep end.

It was nearing ten o’clock and I had yet to find a suitable bedmate for the night.
When it came to guys, I was picky.
Not that a one night stand was a necessary thing to cross off my list.
The girls found it hard to believe when I said I’d never had one and I guess, at twenty-eight, it was time.
But, like I said, the second we hit Murphy’s, I spotted my target.

He was tall, with closely cropped blond hair and dark eyes and was surrounded by a group of guys.
He looked older than the rest of the guys in his whole group did.
Something about the way he stood.
Self-confidence radiated across the bar.
I had a feeling he was used to getting what he wanted and I figured that worked in my favor.
It was more likely he’d see us as kindred spirits, even if it was just sex.
And sex was like riding a bicycle right?
No way was he going to back down from what I had planned.

We made our way to the opposite side of the bar so I could get a better look at the man I’d be sharing a bed—or a floor, a wall, a stairwell—with later.

Elbowing Sarah, I declared, “Him,” and nodded across the bar.

“Blondie?”

“Yep.”

“Bet’s on.
Get ’em, girl.
And remember, if at first you don’t succeed, destroy all the evidence you tried in the first place.”
She nudged my ribs and ordered me a drink.
Since it was a special night, I avoided my usual beer and sipped on two fingers of cinnamon liqueur on ice.

The bartender was cute and seemed to be in a good mood, so I decided to bring him in on my little plan.
If it was going to go my way, I was going to need him.
I’d been planning the night for two weeks.
So much for one-night-stand spontaneity.
Then again, I
was
a planner.

I waited until he came closer before I called him over.
Up close, he was more than cute.
I could picture him with an open belt and his jeans sitting low on his ass.
Holy shit.
I could get lost in those eyes.

Damn.

But he wasn’t the target.

“I’m Caroline.”

“Hi, Caroline.
I’m Brian.
Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.
I was wondering if you could help me out.”

Eyeing my tumbler, he lifted an eyebrow, pushed his wavy brown hair out of his eyes, and responded, “Sure.
What do you need?”

Looking around to make sure Sarah and Mel weren’t listening in, I whispered to my new bartender friend, “I have a bet with my girls and I can’t lose.
It would kill my buzz and I need your help.
So, I need to send that guy over there”—I pointed slightly—“a drink.
Something fun.
Sexy.”

“Sexy, huh?”

The way his mouth moved when he said the word “sexy” had me wondering what it would be like to be sprawled across the bar with Brian on top of me, those teeth scraping my skin, that tongue sliding up and down my body.
Unfortunately, I had to pull myself out of my own head because I needed to focus.
It was just so hard to do so when his baby blues looked at me like that.
Like I was the only person in the crowded bar.

“Suggestive.”
The word came out throatier than I anticipated and Brian’s eyes gleamed mischievously.

“Suggestive.
Sexy.
Kind of like you.”
He winked and a warm tingle spread between my thighs.
Was that all it took to moisten the panties these days?
Jesus, I needed to get laid.
I was DEFCON 1 horny.

Down, girl
.

“Which one again?”

“Blond.
Tall.
With a bunch of his friends.”

Bartender Brian was good.
He looked at my target without actually looking at him.
I’d have to ask him later how he did that.

“Yeah.
Something fun.
A shot.
Definitely a shot.”

“Got it.
Be right back.”

I watched Brian mix a bunch of stuff into a shaker and pour a shot.
When he brought it to the guy, he leaned in and whispered, barely tilting his head in my direction.
The target lifted big brown eyes in my direction, nodded thanks as he lifted the shot, and threw it back before turning back to his friends.

Shit
.
That didn’t work.
It seemed like a good idea.
I’d have to rethink.

Brian poured another drink for some random college girl before returning to me.

“What did you give him?”
My hand reached for his and he slid his fingers along the back of my hand.

“Sex Up Against the Wall.”

“What?”
I could feel my ears redden.

“Like a Sex on the Beach but with a little Harvey Wallbanger.”

Again with the wink.
Bartender Brian was hot.
I needed some air.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Giving up already?”
He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hardly.”
I winked back at him and watched a slow, sexy smile spread across his face.

I made my way across the room.
I was going to have to pass tall, blond, and handsome to get to the bathroom.
With a newly formed set of balls, I decided to brush past him, walking right through his little group of friends.
Feeling slightly badass with my four-inch heels, I knew my ass looked great.
It was my best feature.
Score one for an hour a day at the gym.

I quickly tugged my shirt, making sure to expose a little more cleavage while keeping my newly purchased bra under wraps.
At least for the moment.

Carefully, I kept my eyes on him.
It wasn’t until I brushed against him that he looked.
My hand barely swiped across his crotch.
It was a fuller package than I’d imagined.

Eyes locked, I mustered whatever brash sex appeal I could and hoped I was able to convey my desire silently.
I was pretty sure it worked since he put his hand on my arm and whispered, “Hi.”

I leaned in, prompting him to bend down slightly—he had at least a foot on me—and whispered the greeting back, making sure to keep my whisper breathy while grazing his earlobe with my lips.

I moved on quickly, feeling his eyes watch me walk away.
I heard his red-headed friend say something about “hitting that” and I flipped my hair over my shoulder.

Once I finished in the bathroom, I avoided the target.
A quick peek over at him, however, stirred the butterflies in my stomach.
He was watching me.
There is no better feeling than realizing someone you’re into is checking you out.

I ran into a few people I knew and quickly exchanged pleasantries before heading back to Bartender Brian.

“Caroline!
Nice to see you came back.
I saved your seat.”

“You did?”

“I saw those shoes.
Didn’t think it would be right for you to stand on them all night.”

“You noticed my shoes?”
Was he gay?

“Well, yeah.
Something was making that ass swing when you walked away.”

Not gay.

Why did I care?
He was not the target.

“Give a girl the right pair of shoes and she can take over the world.”

“Touché.”

Bartender Brian slid a drink in front of me.

“What’s this?”

“From him.”
He nodded across the bar.
Target lifted his drink and nodded.

“What is it?”

He motioned for me to lean in, meeting me halfway across the bar.
Tucking my hair behind my ear he whispered, “Screaming Orgasm.”

He lingered a beat longer, long enough for me to feel his breath on my skin.
When he pulled away, he smelled like cinnamon.
I looked down; my original drink was empty.
I ran my finger around the rim of the glass and looked at him.

Shrugging, he said, “I was thirsty.
Drink up.”

Smiling, I lifted my shot glass and drank.
My lips were moist and a drop of the alcohol slid down my chin.
Bartender Brian reached over and wiped it away with his finger before putting it in his mouth.

A change of panties would be required if this shit kept up.

“Your turn.”

For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about.
I touched my face where his finger was a moment ago.
I felt that touch down to my toes.

“Earth to Caroline.”
He snapped in front of me.

“Huh?”

“Your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

“Drinks.
Sexy.
Suggestive.
Mr.
Tall Blond and Dumb over there.”

“He isn’t dumb!”

Brian laughed easily.
“If you say so.
What’ll it be?”

“I don’t know.
I didn’t think that far ahead.
Um, Slippery Nipple?”

Bartender Brian pursed his nibblicious full lips before saying, “You got it.”

He tucked his towel in the back of his pants before retrieving a cell phone from his front pocket.
He turned away from me and began making the drink.
He stopped a few times along the way to pull a few beers for some other customers.
I watched as some slutty girl lifted herself on the bar, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek.
He dipped his head and smiled, touching her nose with the tip of his finger.
The same finger he used to wipe the small bit of my drink that slipped down my chin.
Who is that bitch?

I shook the thought from my head.
Bartender Brian wasn’t my target but he did deliver the drink as promised.
Once again Tall Blond and Dumb—er, Handsome—locked eyes with me and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
He quickly threw it back before leaning into Brian.
Brian laughed and high-fived him.
I wonder what they’re talking about.

“Hey!”
Melody yelled in my ear.
“Get fucked yet?”

She was always a bit of a close talker but when she was drinking, the closeness was magnified.
Honestly, all I had to do was lick my lips at that moment and we’d be making out French style.
Not that there’d be anything wrong with that.
But at the moment, Melody’s tongue wasn’t on my list of things to do so I took a step back.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anywhere to go and I was practically bent backward over the bar.

“Hey, Mel.
No, I didn’t.
What are you up to?”

“I ran into that Jeff guy.
Steven’s friend.”