Read Online Unsuitable Men by Nia Forrester - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nia Forrester
Tags: Literary, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction, Literary Fiction, African American
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turned back to dude, there was something in her eyes, something he’d only seen before when they were in L.A. in that hotel room. He walked away shaking his head. She was planning to fuck that guy. He just knew it. He would bet everything he owned that she was going to wait a reasonable interval, probably come find him to say she didn’t need a car after all and then she was going to go fuck that guy. Not that it affected him either way, of course.
But damn. It was like that ?
That was two and a half hours ago, and he hadn’t seen her since. Brendan had spent one of those hours in Meghan’s company, walking her through the club, showing her his office in the back and giving her the VIP treatment. She had a working weekend planned, so hadn’t been able to come earlier, nor to stick around, and Brendan was surprised how promptly after she left he became preoccupied once again with Tracy’s whereabouts. She looked good in that goddamn dress, and when she sat, you could see the length and shape of her caramel-toned legs. The dude she was sitting with hadn’t been able to keep his eyes on her face for more than five seconds before they would fall once again to her legs. And Brendan couldn’t say he blamed him. That damn dress was genius, really. It had a high collared neckline but plunged low at the arms, offering a tantalizing and fleeting peek at the sides and curve of her breasts. Enough of a peek to make you want to lean in closer, if you weren’t also distracted by how short the damn thing was.
Brendan shook his head and made his way towards the bar. What the hell was he doing, thinking about her breasts and legs anyway? Been there, done that. He’d seen them, and he knew they were spectacular. There was no reason to obsess about it. There were probably dozens of women here tonight who could give her a run for her money. Not that he had seen any of them.
And another thing, the dude she was sitting with? No way could ol’ boy hang the way he had that night. Five times minimum he had Tracy screaming her brains out. So if she wanted to go screw some okie-doke motherfucker in an off-the-rack suit, then that was her prerogative. Just as long as she was prepared to be mightily disappointed.
When none of the bartenders acknowledged him immediately Brendan raised his hands above his head—which made him impossible to miss—and clapped until the young woman who’d served him and Tracy earlier looked his way. When she came over with a smile, he leaned in so she could hear him loud and clear.
“When I step to the bar,” he said, “you better damn well stop what you’re doing and serve me first. You feel me?”
She pulled back and blinked in surprise at his tone and then nodded. “Yes sir, Mr. Cole.”
“Get me a scotch and soda.”
When she turned away to get it, Brendan shoved aside the fleeting embarrassment that he’d let his temper get the best of him like that. He never spoke to his staff that way; and he hated people who did. He would leave her a sizeable tip by way of apology, he decided. And what the hell was he so agitated about anyway? When she returned with his scotch and soda he slid her a fifty and she glanced at it in surprise before pocketing it and smiled briefly before returning to her other customers.
At just past two-thirty a.m., it was probably optimistic of him to expect that things would be winding down, but he was beginning to wish for a shower and his bed. That was how it started; soon enough he would be like Shawn, yearning only to get home, rub his wife’s pregnant belly and fall asleep in her embrace. But he had only just turned thirty-three and it seemed a little early in his estimation to throw in the towel on his free-wheeling lifestyle. There were still too many women yet to meet and bed.
That was the problem he was having now with Meghan. She never pushed or pressured, but he could tell she was looking for a commitment. Not an engagement, necessarily, but at least some
But damn. It was like that ?
That was two and a half hours ago, and he hadn’t seen her since. Brendan had spent one of those hours in Meghan’s company, walking her through the club, showing her his office in the back and giving her the VIP treatment. She had a working weekend planned, so hadn’t been able to come earlier, nor to stick around, and Brendan was surprised how promptly after she left he became preoccupied once again with Tracy’s whereabouts. She looked good in that goddamn dress, and when she sat, you could see the length and shape of her caramel-toned legs. The dude she was sitting with hadn’t been able to keep his eyes on her face for more than five seconds before they would fall once again to her legs. And Brendan couldn’t say he blamed him. That damn dress was genius, really. It had a high collared neckline but plunged low at the arms, offering a tantalizing and fleeting peek at the sides and curve of her breasts. Enough of a peek to make you want to lean in closer, if you weren’t also distracted by how short the damn thing was.
Brendan shook his head and made his way towards the bar. What the hell was he doing, thinking about her breasts and legs anyway? Been there, done that. He’d seen them, and he knew they were spectacular. There was no reason to obsess about it. There were probably dozens of women here tonight who could give her a run for her money. Not that he had seen any of them.
And another thing, the dude she was sitting with? No way could ol’ boy hang the way he had that night. Five times minimum he had Tracy screaming her brains out. So if she wanted to go screw some okie-doke motherfucker in an off-the-rack suit, then that was her prerogative. Just as long as she was prepared to be mightily disappointed.
When none of the bartenders acknowledged him immediately Brendan raised his hands above his head—which made him impossible to miss—and clapped until the young woman who’d served him and Tracy earlier looked his way. When she came over with a smile, he leaned in so she could hear him loud and clear.
“When I step to the bar,” he said, “you better damn well stop what you’re doing and serve me first. You feel me?”
She pulled back and blinked in surprise at his tone and then nodded. “Yes sir, Mr. Cole.”
“Get me a scotch and soda.”
When she turned away to get it, Brendan shoved aside the fleeting embarrassment that he’d let his temper get the best of him like that. He never spoke to his staff that way; and he hated people who did. He would leave her a sizeable tip by way of apology, he decided. And what the hell was he so agitated about anyway? When she returned with his scotch and soda he slid her a fifty and she glanced at it in surprise before pocketing it and smiled briefly before returning to her other customers.
At just past two-thirty a.m., it was probably optimistic of him to expect that things would be winding down, but he was beginning to wish for a shower and his bed. That was how it started; soon enough he would be like Shawn, yearning only to get home, rub his wife’s pregnant belly and fall asleep in her embrace. But he had only just turned thirty-three and it seemed a little early in his estimation to throw in the towel on his free-wheeling lifestyle. There were still too many women yet to meet and bed.
That was the problem he was having now with Meghan. She never pushed or pressured, but he could tell she was looking for a commitment. Not an engagement, necessarily, but at least some
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