More Than One Night. Sarah Mayberry

she paid particular attention to the spot where they’d enjoyed their first encounter. His group had moved in the past hour, commandeering a conversational grouping of couches and armchairs, but Charlie didn’t know that and the disappointed expression on her face when she found no sign of him did great things for his ego.

      Not that he usually needed a lot of help in that direction, as his two younger sisters were always happy to inform him.

      She’d come looking for him. Pointless to deny that he was pretty damn happy about that.

      His gaze locked on her, he put down his beer and stood. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said to no one in particular.

      He made his way through the crowd, never losing sight of her. She’d turned to face the bar by the time he reached her side and he took a moment to admire the long, slender lines of her body. Her halter top left most of her back exposed, revealing pale, creamy skin and finely honed muscles. His gaze slid to her butt, showcased in some kind of shiny, slippery-looking fabric that made him want to reach out and touch. She had a great ass—small and tight and perky as hell—and legs that went on forever.

      He wanted her. Badly.

      Her friend handed her what looked like a margarita and he waited until she’d taken a sip before speaking.

      “I thought we had a deal.”

      She glanced over her shoulder and he knew he wasn’t imagining the warmth in her eyes.

      “You can buy my next drink,” she said, then they both simply stood there and ate each other up with their eyes.

      Her friend nudged her none too subtly in the ribs and Charlie blinked.

      “Sorry. Rhys, this is Gina, my friend. Gina, Rhys.”

      Gina’s gaze went immediately to the stain on the front of his shirt. “So you’re wine guy. Nice to meet you.”

      “I guess I am. Nice to meet you, too.” Rhys’s gaze returned to Charlie. “Come join us.”

      Charlie looked at Gina, clearly gauging her reaction.

      “Sure. Why not,” Gina said.

      “We managed to score a couple of couches,” he explained before making his way through the crowd. At a certain point he sensed they weren’t following him and he turned to find Charlie and Gina engaged in a quick, quiet discussion that involved lots of hand gestures from Gina and an embarrassed, self-conscious little smile from Charlie.

      He liked that smile. It told him a lot about Charlie and what she wanted. She glanced up and realized he was waiting and offered him a broader, brighter smile before starting toward him.

      “Sorry,” she said when she reached his side.

      He offered her his hand. “In case I lose you again.”

      After the tiniest of hesitations she slid her hand into his. He was close enough to see the way her pupils dilated at the small contact. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he eyed her plump bottom lip. He wondered what she’d do if he kissed her right now, the way his instincts were demanding. He wondered what she’d taste like, what she’d feel like. Whether she’d push him away or press her body against his.

      Someone jostled him and he realized he was staring.

      “Come on.” Using their joined hands to tow her behind him, he led them to his friends. There was only one empty seat—his—and he gestured the two women toward it. It was a modern, square chair with wide, flat padded arms, and Gina dropped into the seat while Charlie perched on the arm.

      He performed a quick round of introductions before perching on the arm of the chair nearest her. The move put them at the same level, creating a cozy sense of intimacy and connection between them.

      “So,” he said.

      She smiled, looking a little nervous. “So.”

      She had fine features—a delicate nose, a neat, pointed chin, a small but plump mouth. He liked the way she’d made up her eyes to seem smoky and mysterious, and he really liked her shiny red mouth.

      “Tell me, Charlie, what do you do when you’re not having dinner with your friend on a Friday night?”

      She took a big gulp from her glass, almost as though she needed the liquid courage. “I just received my discharge from the army after fourteen years of service. I guess I’m officially unemployed. But I’m in the process of setting up a web-design business.”

      He was surprised, and suspected it probably showed in his face. She looked far too slight to be in the armed forces.

      “This is going to get me in trouble with feminists, but you look way too nice to be running around with an AK–47.”

      “Actually, we carried Steyr F88s. And I worked in R.A. Sigs, which means I was in charge of making sure people could talk to each other, not shooting stuff up.”

      “So you’re a comms expert, huh?”

      “You could say that. How about you? What do you do when you’re not walking around wearing my mistake down the front of your shirt?”

      “Greg and I are partners in an I.T. consulting firm.”

      “So you’re self-employed?”

      “Yep.” He could hear the satisfaction in his own voice and so, apparently, could she, because she smiled and cocked her head slightly.

      “And loving it, I take it?”

      “Today I am. We just landed a major contract.”

      “Ah. So this is a celebration?”

      “Definitely. Tell me more about the army,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman in uniform before.”

      “Well, officially, I’m a woman out of uniform now.” She blushed the moment she said it and he knew she hadn’t intended the double entendre. His gaze slid down her body again.

      She was an interesting contradiction. Her clothes and body screamed sexy vixen, but her attitude and expression told a different story. A more shy, less confident one.

      “What made you join up?”

      She appeared relieved that he hadn’t capitalized on her faux pas. “My father was in the army. So I suppose I was following in his footsteps more than anything. Especially at the start.”

      “And now you’re going to be a web designer?”

      “That’s the plan.”

      “Competitive business these days.”

      “I have a couple of clients lined up already,” she said, shrugging modestly.

      He liked her quiet confidence. She might be a little skittish when it came to him, but she clearly felt on top of her career.

      “So how are you finding civilian life?”

      “Day one is shaping up okay so far.”

      “Are you telling me this is your first day of freedom?”

      “Yep.”

      “Oh, well, that definitely calls for a celebration.”

      “You’re already celebrating.”

      “True. Maybe we should add our celebrations together. See if the sum isn’t greater than its parts.”

      Her gaze held his. “Maybe we should.”

      He smiled, and her mouth curved in response. Arousal and curiosity and the need to conquer buzzed through his veins, a heady cocktail of potential.

      He reached for his beer and raised his glass in a casual toast. “To celebrations.”

      “To celebrations,” she echoed.

      IT WAS TWO IN THE MORNING when Charlie dragged her gaze from Rhys’s