More Than One Night

“I look okay,” she finally conceded.

Gina shook her head. “You’re hopeless. You’re the hottest woman in this room and you don’t even know it. What a waste.”

Charlie made a disbelieving noise.

“You don’t believe me?” Gina asked.

“You don’t need to blow smoke up my skirt. I know exactly where I fit in the man-woman food chain.” From the moment she hit puberty she’d known. She wasn’t blonde, she wasn’t perky, and she didn’t have that unknowable “something” that made men want to howl at the moon. A painful realization at the time, but now simply a fact of life. She’d long ago accepted that straight, mousy-brown hair, plain brown eyes and nondescript features were not going to set the world on fire.

“So where do you fit, then?” Gina asked.

“On a scale of one to ten? Five. Maybe six on a good day.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Why are we even having this conversation? Let’s talk about something else. Tell me more about this Spencer guy you’re seeing.”

Gina frowned. “Is this why you never went for it with Hamish in Townsville?”

“Good God. You have a memory like an elephant.” Charlie took a gulp of champagne, hoping the action would hide the fact that she was blushing.

Her crush on Hamish Flint had not been her proudest moment. She’d mooned over the sexy, handsome warrant officer from afar for more than a year and never gotten the courage to do more than talk work with him.

Gina rested both forearms on the table and leaned toward Charlie. “I want you to indulge me in a little experiment. I want you to do a lap of the restaurant. All the way around the perimeter. And I want you to pay attention to how many men look at you.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not? Afraid I’m right?”

“I know you’re wrong.”

“Off you go, then. One lap, and pay attention. And no crossing your arms over your chest or sneaking around.”

“Get off the grass.”

Gina made a chicken sound.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “How old are you?”

“How scared are you?”

“I’m not scared.”

“Then put your moneymaker where your mouth is, lady,” Gina said.

A surge of annoyance brought Charlie to her feet. “Fine. I’ll do it. But be ready to eat your words.”

Gina gave her a finger wave. “I want an accurate tally. No fudging.”

Charlie snorted as she turned from the table. Gina was an idiot. Well intentioned, but an idiot nonetheless. Charlie had lived with this body and this face for thirty-two years. As she’d said, she knew her place in the dating food chain. And it certainly wasn’t at the top.

A server was backing away from the next table and she waited until he’d passed before taking her first step. Immediately she felt the subtle sway of her breasts against the top and had to quell the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

She lifted her chin and walked toward the first table for four. It was full of men in suits who had clearly come straight from the office, and all four of them glanced at her as she walked past. Two of them fixated on her breasts, the other two on her legs. There was no mistaking their interest and Charlie felt an odd squirm of… something in the pit of her stomach.

Okay, clearly a fluke.

The next table boasted six couples. Two men and one of the women gave her a fully body scan. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the men turn his head to check out her ass as she passed.

She frowned, adding two more to her tally. Gina hadn’t told her to count women, after all.

Next up was a family grouping—three generations, if she was any judge.

No takers here, I’m sure.

She was almost out of range when the gray-haired patriarch looked up from opening a gift to offer her a cheeky, spontaneous smile, while the two teenage boys turned and stared unashamedly at her breasts.

Seven, eight, nine. Bloody hell.

By the time she’d reached the bar area at the rear of the restaurant she’d racked up seventeen checkouts. She inspected her trousers to make sure her fly was done up. It was. There was no other explanation, then—it had to be the pants and top. Somehow, a bit of slinky fabric had convinced everyone she was a sexy siren. How… bizarre.

And, if she was being honest with herself, kind of exciting. She’d spent far too many nights talking shop with the boys while watching other servicewomen beat off admirers with a stick to be above enjoying the very flattering male interest. She was only human, after all.

And maybe more than a little bit tipsy.

Experimenting, she pulled back her shoulders and injected some sway into her hips as she wove her way through the bar.

More eyes turned her way.

Huh. Look at that. I’m really getting the hang of this thing. Who knew it was so easy?

The thought had barely registered when she stumbled down an unexpected step. Her hand flew out instinctively, grabbing the nearest object—which happened to be a very solid male arm holding a very full glass of wine.

CHAPTER TWO

RED WINE FLEW as her weight dragged the arm down. She let out a startled yelp as her hip crashed into her unsuspecting rescuer. For a second she teetered on the brink of losing her balance completely, but he moved incredibly quickly, twisting to face her while his free hand grabbed her other arm. She glanced up and found herself looking into a pair of dark-lashed chocolate-brown eyes that were half concerned, half annoyed.

“You all right there?” he asked.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see the step.”

“But you’re okay now?”

“Absolutely.”

They were standing very close, almost chest to chest. She could smell his aftershave—something woodsy, with leather and spice notes—and she could see the fine lines around his eyes and mouth.

She realized she was staring and took a hasty step backward. Which was when she noticed the huge red stain down the front of his steel-gray shirt. “I ruined your shirt.”

He glanced at himself. “I guess you did.”

“I’ll pay for dry cleaning. Or a replacement. And I’ll buy you another glass of wine. Whatever you want.”

His gaze dipped below her face as he gave her body a slow appraisal. “How about I buy you a drink and we’ll call it even?” There was a cheeky, charming glint in his eye. His behavior was so removed from her usual interactions with men that it took her a moment to understand he was flirting.

“I can’t let you do that. It was my fault.”

The smile in his eyes extended to his mouth. “It was an accident. No harm done.”

“Except to your shirt.”

He made a dismissive sound and flicked his fingers in the air, never taking his eyes off hers.

She found herself smiling in return. “You’re really not mad?”

“It’s a shirt. No big deal.” He offered her his hand. “I’m Rhys, by the way.”

“Charlie,” she said, shaking his hand. His fingers were long and strong, the nails beautifully manicured.

“Short for Charlotte?”

She nodded. “But I’ve always been Charlie.”

He was still holding her hand. She knew she should pull it free, but she was too busy staring into his face.

“Why don’t you join me and my friends.”

She glanced over his shoulder and realized that their whole interaction was being witnessed by a group of eight people.

She threw them a self-conscious smile. “I can’t. I’m having friend with my dinner,” she said. Then she registered what she’d said. “I mean, I’m having dinner with my friend.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile deepened. Normally she’d be embarrassed by her gaucheness, but there was something about the way he looked at her that short-circuited all her usual responses.

“Right. He’s probably going to come after me with an elephant gun if I hold you up much longer, huh?”

“It’s a she. And she’s probably thinking I’ve twisted my ankle in these shoes. Which I almost did.”

“Then I’ll let you go,” he said, his fingers sliding from hers. “But maybe I’ll see you later. We’re going to be here awhile.”

She had no idea what to say to the blatant invitation in his eyes. She’d never had a man look at her like that in her life. Although she could definitely get used to it, especially if they all had intense dark eyes and olive skin and broad, strong chests.

“Um. Maybe.” She took a step backward. “Sorry about your shirt. Again.”

“Forget about it. I already have.”

She nodded and smiled and finally forced herself to walk away from the magnetic pull of his regard.

“Wow,” she whispered to herself as she wove through the crowd.

So that was what it was like to be the absolute focus of a handsome, devastating man’s attention. Heady, a little overwhelming and a lot exciting.

She glanced over her shoulder as she stepped down into the reception area. Her eyes met his and she realized he’d been watching her walk away. As though he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She lifted her hand and gave him the smallest of finger waves. He nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment. The urge to walk back and take him up on his offer of a drink was almost impossible to ignore.

Um, hello? Remember Gina? Earth calling Charlie…

Charlie forced herself to keep moving. The more distance she put between herself and Rhys-the-super-hot, the more sane she felt. For a moment there, she’d bought into Gina’s fantasy of who she was. Which was plain crazy.

“There you are,” Gina said as Charlie returned to the table. “I was about to send out a Saint Bernard with a little barrel of whiskey strapped to his neck. What happened to you?”

“I nearly broke my ankle in these shoes of yours, for starters,” Charlie said. “Plus, I gave some poor guy a bath in his own wine.”

“No way!”

“Way.”

Gina pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

“Go ahead and laugh,” Charlie said resignedly.

“Give me your tally first. How many men looked at you?”

Charlie turned her head and gazed along the length of the restaurant. She could see the bar from here, but not Rhys’s dark head. “Um, I’m not sure. I lost count,” she said distractedly.

“You lost count. I rest my case.”

The waiter arrived with their meals before Charlie could respond. She used the interruption to change the subject.

The champagne kept flowing as they ate, although Charlie was old enough and wise enough not to drink too much. Still, there was no denying that she was feeling very relaxed by the time she and Gina had polished off a dessert platter.

“Okay. Where to next?” Gina said as she licked the last smear of chocolate sauce off her spoon.

Charlie let her gaze slide to the bar again. Was Rhys still there? And if he was, would he still want to buy her a drink? Or had he already met some other non-wine-spilling woman who knew how to respond when a handsome man looked at her with approval?

“What about a drink at the bar?” she heard herself say.

Gina shrugged. “Sure, babe. It’s your night. Let’s go.”

What are you doing? What do you think is going to happen if you go to the bar? Have you forgotten who you are?

She hadn’t. Not really. She’d always been a realist, pragmatic and practical to her bones. But thanks to copious quantities of good champagne and her borrowed clothes, she was buzzing with a sense of possibility tonight. As Gina had said earlier, this was the first day of the rest of her life.

Everything was in flux—including, maybe, her sense of who she was. Because hadn’t Gina proven to her that maybe her sense of self was a little outdated or skewed? Hadn’t Rhys-the-sexy looked at her as though she was a morsel he wanted to devour? Hadn’t nearly two dozen men eyed her with masculine approval when she’d walked past?

You’ve been drinking. You should walk out of here right now and go home and eat some crackers and drink a whole lot of water.

The voice was probably right. It had saved her from making a lot of bad decisions in her life, that voice. But she didn’t want to listen tonight. She wanted more of the feeling she’d experienced when she’d caught Rhys tracking her every move with his dark, heated gaze. For that precious handful of seconds she had felt powerful and knowing and invincible and incredibly sexy.

It might be an illusion—maybe even a delusion—but she wanted more of it. Even if it meant she was setting herself up to fail spectacularly.

RHYS TOOK A PULL from his beer, an ear tuned to the debate Greg was having with Brett, one of their engineers, while his gaze roamed the crowded bar.

She hadn’t come back. He’d been hoping she would, but it had been more than an hour since the mysterious and sexy Charlie had sashayed her way to her table. Which probably meant he should put her out of his mind.

Easier said than done. It had been a long time since he’d felt such an instant attraction to a woman. Certainly a woman he’d met in a bar. He’d done his fair share of hound-dogging in his early twenties, but it had been years since he’d prowled a bar in the hope of meeting someone. Not that that was what he was doing tonight, of course—they were here to celebrate. But there was no denying the instinctive, primal pull he’d felt when staring into Charlie’s cinnamon-brown eyes. An attraction that had only intensified when he checked out the rest of her.

He’d never had a “type” of woman he was attracted to—he preferred to think of himself as an equal-opportunity admirer of the opposite sex—but there was something about Charlie’s lithe, willowy body that really worked for him. Especially in that clingy, sexy top and pants she was wearing.

Give it up, man. She’s gone home.

He gave the bar one last scan before focusing fully on Greg and Brett. Something caught the very edge of his vision and he did a double take—and grinned.

She was standing at the bar with a short, blonde woman. He watched as they had an intense discussion that involved the other woman pushing Charlie’s wallet into the small handbag she was carrying and turning to the barman. Charlie shrugged philosophically, apparently resigning herself to having her friend buy her a drink. Then she turned to scan the crowd. Rhys felt a thud of satisfaction when 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 face and registered that Gina was long past the wilting stage and close to dropping off to sleep.

“We should probably think about heading home,” she said regretfully.

Rhys’s mouth quirked as he took in the way Gina’s head was propped on her hand and her eyes closed. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

Disappointment washed through her at his easy acquiescence. She’d never had a one-night stand in her life, but she didn’t want this night to end. She wanted to keep talking to Rhys, wanted to keep listening to his deep, mellow voice, wanted to have the chance to touch the hard, hot body that had been so close to hers, driving her more than a little crazy.

But apparently the feeling was far from mutual. So much for her sense of herself being outdated.

He was always out of your league and you know it.

True, but it had been fun while it lasted. More fun, more exciting, than anything she’d experienced in a long time.

“I’ll walk you down,” Rhys said.

“Sure.” She gave Gina’s knee a little shake. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Time to go home.”

Gina started. “What?”

Charlie laughed. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”

She stood and waited for Gina to gather her things together, then the three of them navigated the thinning crowd to the elevators. Charlie was very aware of Rhys standing by her side as the car dropped smoothly toward the ground. She shot him a quick glance. He was staring straight ahead, an unreadable expression on his face.

She gave a silent sigh as she registered for the millionth time how handsome he was. Not in a perfect, pretty-boy way, but in a real, rugged, masculine way. He had a strong jaw and a straight nose with a bump near the bridge. His lips were chiseled yet still soft looking. His dark hair and eyes made her wonder if he had Greek or Italian heritage. Then there was his body…

As though he felt her regard, he glanced her way. She felt herself blush.

Busted. Good one, Long. Too subtle.

“Is your background Italian?” she blurted, as though asking about his forebears would excuse the fact that she’d been ogling him.

“There’s some Spanish blood in there somewhere, I think. But my dad keeps telling me we’re Black Irish. Whatever that means.”

“Huh.”

The doors opened and they entered the echoey foyer of Customs House. It was all but deserted at this time of night and even the bar at ground level had whittled its patrons down to hard-core players.

The night air was cool on her bare shoulders as they exited to the street. Customs House was situated smack-dab in the middle of Circular Quay, usually a busy hub for buses, trains and ferries, but at this time of night the last ferries had well and truly gone and bus service was reduced to bare bones. The taxi stand was located at the end of the street. A handful of cabs idled, waiting for passengers.