Seducing The Best Man. Sasha Summers

Copyright

1

      CADY WAS GLAD she was running late. It gave her time to recover from the hotter-than-hell man sitting at the table across the restaurant, waiting for her. Bianca had said he was good-looking. Good-looking? She and Bianca needed to have a serious talk. This man was meant for getting naked and savoring long lazy days in bed. Or long, sleepless nights in bed...in the shower...on the couch...in the car.

      She trailed behind the server to the table, giving herself time to appreciate her date. Broad shoulders. Strong jaw with just the right amount of stubble. Black hair. “Patton?” she held her hand out, unable to deny the slight purr in her voice.

      His pale eyes were unexpected beneath his thick eyebrows and inky-black hair. But, pow, they packed a punch—and left a not-so-subtle fire pulsing through her veins.

      He stood, towering over her five-foot-two-inch frame. “Cady?”

      She nodded, arching a brow. “Guilty.” Her brain was filled with all sorts of delectable possibilities.

      The corner of his mouth cocked up, and he took her hand in his, shaking it once. His hand was rough, warm and huge. His fingers wrapped around hers, strong but controlled. She couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on her body, uncontrolled.

      She sat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, smiling at him.

      He didn’t smile back. “No problem,” he murmured, sitting across from her.

      “Good evening, I’ll be your server this evening,” their waiter gushed. She took the offered menu, using the opportunity to subtly assess the delicious surprise that was her date.

      A quick glance told her he was doing the same thing. But, unlike her, he wasn’t trying to be subtle about it. He was staring; his pale blue eyes inspected her with a meticulousness that bordered on rudeness.

      “We have a lovely house red this evening,” the server offered enthusiastically.

      “I’d like a Whiskey Special, extra olives.” She smiled up at their server and he smiled back. He was good-looking. If Bianca were here, she could explain the difference to her. Questionable manners or not, her date was in another class altogether.

      “I’ll have a beer.” Patton’s voice was all gravel and rasp, sending delightful shivers along her spine.

      Cady looked at Patton and tucked the same strand of hair behind her ear.

      The server excused himself and left them with the menus.

      “Who did this to you?” she asked, scanning the menu without looking up.

      “What?” he asked, clearly confused by her question.

      “Who set you up?” She looked at him, grinning. “Friend or family?”

      He gave her a lopsided grin in return. “Family.” His gaze held hers. “You?”

      “Friend.”

      His gaze wandered along her neck to the shoulder peeking out of her black sweater. “More pressure that way.”

      “Really?” Why did it feel as though he was touching her? She shivered.

      “You’re stuck with family.” His eyes returned to her face. “Friends are optional.”

      “Ouch,” she laughed. “Not this one, not really.”

      He sat the menu aside, but his steely gaze never left her face. She stared right back, exploring the strong jaw and razor-sharp features. He wasn’t pretty-boy-handsome, he was...overwhelming.

      “Know what you want?”

      He smiled—revealing a dimple. “For dinner?”

      She was going to need a cold shower soon. “Isn’t that what we’re talking about?” She swallowed.

      “Sure.” He sat back in his chair, resting one hand on the table. He stared at her shoulder again.

      She cocked her head. “A man of many words.”

      He shrugged, the lopsided grin returning.

      “Conversation helps with things like first dates.” She sat forward. “I’ll start. Let me guess, you’re getting a steak?”

      He nodded.

      The server delivered their drinks. “Ready to order?”

      “Steak, medium rare, baked potato and house salad.” Patton handed the menu to their server. He may be hot, but he definitely needed to work on his manners.

      “And for the lady?”

      Cady smiled up at their server. “I’m not sure—”

      “I can come back when you’re ready.” Their server glanced between them.

      “No, no. I hate to keep a man waiting.” She took a sip of her drink. “I’ll have what the gentleman’s having.”

      “Very good.” The server took their menus, shot her another smile and left.

      Patton’s fingers tapped the table—as if he was distracted or restless. She watched the slight narrowing of his eyes, the occasional twitch of his jaw, the thinning of his lips as he assessed each and every person in the room. He surprised her when he said, “If you weren’t ready, you could have said so.”

      “Or you could have asked.” She took another sip of her drink.

      Patton’s eyes pinned her, the raw intensity in their depths searing her cheeks. His nod was slight, hardly perceptible. His jaw tightened as his entire focus centered on her mouth. She might just be willing to excuse his bad manners.

      Who knew a blind date could turn out so...interesting? Bianca had tried to set her up before, determined to help her find Mr. Right. She didn’t get Cady’s satisfaction with Mr. Right Now. And the men she’d set her up with...it never went well. So when Bianca promised this would be her last attempt ever, Cady had agreed. She had no expectations tonight, except dinner. But now...she couldn’t remember ever feeling such a raw, instant attraction to a man. All sorts of tingle-inducing expectations were forming.

      Her phone vibrated.

      After a month of troubleshooting into the wee hours of the morning, she should have known it was too much to ask for a night to herself. But she’d been saddled with Charles, the boss’s son, who couldn’t go to the bathroom without consulting her first. If she wanted a promotion and all the trappings that came with it, she had to deal with Charles’s crappy program debugs and shoddy work ethic. She pulled her phone from her pocket and sat it on the table. “Excuse me,” she murmured, reading the message.

      “Everything okay?”

      “Ever feel like you’re the only one that knows what they’re doing?” she asked, answering the text.

      “Every day,” he answered.

      She paused midtext and glanced at him. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” Was he looking at her hands? Her wrists?

      “But necessary—if you want things to get done right,” his voice rumbled.

      She ignored the thrill that rumble elicited, hit Send and slid the phone aside. “Exactly.” Maybe they did have something in common...

      “Work?” he asked, motioning at her phone with the beer bottle in his hand.

      She nodded.

      He glanced at his watch. “You keep odd hours?”

      “I guess. But my job is time-sensitive, so if I get a text, I answer it.”

      “You enjoy that? Being on call?”