Fixed on You

I felt alive.

The alternating flashes of dark
and soft lights, the throbbing pulse from an Ellie Goulding club mix, the movement
of sweaty bodies dancing, grinding, enjoying each other—The Sky Launch Nightclub
got into my blood and turned me on in a way that I hadn’t let anyone or
anything else do in quite some time. When I was there—working the bar, assisting
the wait staff, attending to the DJs—I felt more free than at any other time of
my day. The club held magic.

And, for me, healing.

For all its vibrancy and life, the
club was a safe haven for me. It was a place I could attach myself without
worry of going overboard. No one was going to sue me for focusing too hard or
long on my job. But rumor was The Sky Launch, which had been up for sale for
quite some time, was about to be sold. A new owner could change everything.

“Laynie.” Sasha, the waitress
working the upper floor, pulled me from my thoughts and back to my job. “I need
a vodka tonic, a White Russian, and two Butterballs.”

“Got it.” I pulled the vodka from
the shelf behind me.

“I can’t believe how busy we are
for a Thursday,” she said as I worked on her order.

“It’s the summer crowd. Give it a
week, and the place will explode.” I couldn’t wait. Summer at the club was a
total blast.  

“That’s when things around here
get fun.” David Lindt, the club manager, joined our conversation, a sparkle
showing in his eyes as the bright white light that lit the bar illuminated his
face.

“Real fun.” I gave David a wide
smile and winked while I placed the drinks on Sasha’s tray, my stomach tensing
with a flicker of desire.   

He answered my wink with one of
his own, stirring the flicker in my belly to a low flame.

David wasn’t the love of my life—not
even the love of the moment—but his shared passion for the club sparked
something in me. My interest in learning more and moving up from bartending had
seemed to interest him as well. More than one late night of showing me the
ropes had ended in heavy make-out sessions. Though I hadn’t been instantly
attracted to him, his small stature, curly blonde hair and blue eyes had grown
on me. Also, his keen business sense and exceptional management style were
qualities I required in a man. And, truthfully, the lack of effect he had on my
emotions provided half the draw. We had decent chemistry, but he didn’t have me
freaking out all over him like I had over other guys. He was safe and solid and
that was my definition of the perfect man.

I rang up Sasha’s order while
David filled shot glasses—Todd’s order, I suspected, another waiter standing
next to Sasha. David rarely stepped behind the bar anymore, but we were
short-staffed for the night and I welcomed his help. Especially with the way we
were picking up. A regular and his friends had leaned against the bar waiting
for my attention, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a suit taking a spot
at the far end of the counter.

I handed Sasha her ticket, but
David stopped her before she could take off. “Hold on. While there’s at least a
few of us here, I think we should toast to Laynie.” He passed around the shots he’d
been filling. Tequila—my liquor of choice.

I peered at him suspiciously.
While it wasn’t unusual to have a shot or two while working a shift, it was
always kept on the down-low, never in front of our manager and certainly not at
his encouragement.

“No worries,” David said, bumping
my shoulder with his. “It’s a special occasion.”

With a shrug, I smiled and took
the shot he offered me. “You’re the boss.”

“We’re too busy for a proper
toast, so let’s just say this is to Laynie. We’re proud of you, girl.”

I blushed and clinked glasses as
everyone around, including the regular customer and his friends, shouted out “hear,
hear” and “cheers.”

“Woo hoo!” I screamed my own excitement.
I’d worked hard to get my degree. I was proud of myself too. I slammed the shot
back, enjoying the burn as it lined my throat and spread through my veins. “Goddamn,
that’s nice!”

Aware that the crowd was getting
antsy, Sasha took off with her order while David filled Todd’s. I turned my
attention first to the regular, a guy whose name deserted me. He leaned in to
give me a hug, which I returned. I might not remember him, but I knew how to
earn my tips.

“Four of whatever’s on tap,” he
said, raising his voice over the music which seemed to have gotten louder in
the last few minutes. “Where’s Liesl?”

I handed him his first two mugs
and began work on the next two. “Since she’s covering all my shifts next week she
has tonight off.” That’s right—this was the guy that usually flirted with
Liesl, another bartender.

“That’s cool. So what are you
doing on your vacation?” With Liesl not around, Regular turned his charm on me.
His eyes travelled to my breasts that were admittedly hard to miss. Especially
with my low-cut neckline. I had some nice girls, who could blame me for showing
them off?

“Absolutely nothing.” I hoped my
delivery sounded like I was looking forward to my vacation. Truth was I’d taken
the time off so I could go home and spend time with my older brother. But only
that morning, Brian had called the trip off, saying that he was too swamped
with work. He wouldn’t even be able to make it to my graduation.

I swallowed the emotions that threatened
to show on my face. On top of being disappointed, I was terrified. Me with
nothing to occupy my time was not an attractive me. I’d almost told David several
times to go ahead and put me on the schedule, but every time I started, I felt
like a total loser. Maybe a week off would be good for me. I could handle it.
Right?

Now wasn’t the time to fret about
the week to come. I finished the transaction with Regular and slid down the bar
to take care of the suit at the end of the counter.

 “Now what can I get…you…?” My
words trailed off as my eyes met the suit’s, the air leaving my lungs, suddenly
sucked out by the sight that met me. The man…he was…
gorgeous
.

Incredibly gorgeous.

I couldn’t look away, his appearance
magnetizing. Which meant he was exactly the type of man I should avoid.

After the numerous heartaches that
had dotted my past, I’d discovered that I could divide the men I was attracted
to into two categories. The first category could be described as fuck and
forget. These were the men that got me going in the bedroom, but were easy to
leave behind if necessary. It was the only group I bothered with anymore. They
were the safe ones. David fell into this category. 

Then there were the men that were
anything but safe. They weren’t fuck and forget—they were, “Oh, fuck!” They
drew me to them so intensely that I became consumed by them, absolutely focused
on everything they did, said and were. I ran from these men, far and fast.

Two seconds after locking eyes
with this man, I knew I should be running.

He seemed familiar—he must have
been in the club before. But if he had been, I couldn’t imagine that I’d have
forgotten. He was the most breathtaking man on the planet—his chiseled
cheekbones and strong jaw sat beneath perfectly floppy brown hair and the most
intense gray eyes I’d ever seen. His five o’clock shadow made my skin itch,
yearning to feel the burn of it against my face—against my inner thighs. From
what I could see, his expensive three-piece navy suit was fitted and of excellent
taste. And his smell—a distinct fragrance of unscented soap and aftershave and
pure male goodness—nearly had me sniffing at the air in front of him like a dog
in heat.

But it wasn’t just his
incomparable beauty and exquisite display of male sex that had me burning
between my legs and searching for the nearest exit. It was how he looked at me,
in a way that no man had ever looked at me, a hungry possessiveness present in
his stare as if he not only had undressed me in his mind, but had claimed me to
be sated by no one ever again except him.

I wanted him instantly, a prickle
of fixation taking root in my belly—an old familiar feeling. But that I desired
him didn’t matter. The expression on his face said that he would have me
whether I wanted it or not, that it was as inevitable as if it had already
happened.

It scared the hell out of me. The
hair on my skin stood up as witness to my fear.

Or perhaps it rose in delight.

Oh, fuck.

“Single-malt Scotch. Neat,
please.”

I’d almost forgotten I was
supposed to be serving him. And the idea of serving him seemed so sexy, that
when he reminded me of my job, I nearly fell over myself to get his drink. “I
have a 12-year-old Macallan.”

“Fine.” It was all he said, but
the delivery in his low thick voice had my pulse fluttering.

As I handed him his Scotch, his
fingers brushed mine and I shivered. Visibly. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly
at my reaction, as if he were pleased.

I jerked my hand back, tucking it
against the bodice of my sheath dress as if the fabric could erase the warmth
that had already traveled from where he’d touched me to the needy core between
my legs.

I never brushed fingers with
customers—why had I done that?

Because I couldn’t
not
touch him. I was so drawn to him, so eager for something I couldn’t name that
I’d take whatever contact I could get.

Not this again. Not now.

Not ever.

I moved away from him. Far and
fast. Well, as far as I could get, curling into the opposite corner of the bar.
David could serve the guy if he wanted anything else. I needed to be nowhere near
him.

And then, as if on cue in the bad
luck life I led, Sasha returned. “David, that group in Bubble Five is harassing
the waitress again.”

“On it.” He turned to me. “You
can handle it for a minute?”

“I so got this.” I so didn’t have
it. Not with Mr. Draw-Laynie-To-Me-Whatever-The-Cost-To-Her-Sanity sitting at
the end of the bar.

But my declaration was
convincing. David slipped out from behind the counter, leaving me alone with
the suit. Even Regular and his friends had joined a group of giggly girls at a
nearby table. I scanned the dance floor hoping I could attract customers by
glaring at the sea of faces. I needed drink orders. Otherwise, Suit might think
I was avoiding him by hiding in my corner, which, of course, I was. But,
honestly, the distance between us did nothing to dim the tight ball of desire
rolling around in my stomach. It was pointless avoidance.

I sighed and wiped down the
counter in front of me, though it didn’t seem to need it, just to keep myself
occupied. When I braved a glance over at the hottie who had invaded my space, I
noticed his Scotch was nearing empty.

I also noticed his eyes pinned on
me. His penetrating gaze felt more than the typical stare of a customer trying
to attract the bartender, but knowing I had a tendency to exaggerate the
meanings of other people’s actions, I dismissed the idea. Summoning my courage,
I forced myself over to check on him.  

Who am I kidding? No forcing was
necessary. I glided to him as if he were pulling me with an invisible rope. “Another?”

“No, I’m good.” He handed me a
hundred. Of course. I’d been hoping he’d give me a credit card so I could glean
his name.

No, no, I was not hoping for that.
I did not care for his name. Nor did I notice that his left hand was absent of
any ring. Or that he was still watching my every move as I took the cash he’d
given me and rung his order into the register.

“Special occasion?” he asked.

I furrowed my brow then
remembered he’d seen our toast. “Uh, yeah. My graduation. I walk tomorrow for
my MBA.”

His face lit up in honest
admiration. “Congratulations. Here’s to your every success.” He raised his
drink toward me and downed the final swallow.

“Thank you.” I was transfixed on
his mouth, his tongue darting out to clean the last drop of liquid off his
lips.
Yum
.