Their Nerd: An MMF Ménage Romance (Two Plus One Book 1) Page 2

  Which wasn’t happening right now. The realization hit Antonio hard and tugged loose a series of other notions he didn’t want to recognize. If this thing with the retainer didn’t go well—if the company collapsed because of it—he wouldn’t have a good excuse to stay. Then again, if they met their deadline and signed the PrimeAssure contract, he wouldn’t want to leave.

  He sank back in his chair with a sigh. Either way, he was going to let someone down.

  Chapter Two

  Emily poked at the cherry in what was left of her Appletini. The bartender had teased her twice that he’d never before seen someone make a drink last two hours. Her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it from her purse.

  Not going to make it after all. Sorry.

  Emily frowned at the text from her best friend. This entire night out was Cynthia’s idea. Emily replied. I’ll be home soon. Help you figure out what’s going on.

  The downside to Cynthia being her own boss was she frequently worked Saturday nights. She hadn’t expected tonight’s emergency to take long, but she must have miscalculated. She needed to work out some kinks in her app before she met with her next round of investors on Monday.

  Don’t you dare leave, Cynthia wrote. That defeats the purpose.

  Emily scowled at her phone. I can be daring somewhere else.

  If you can’t handle picking up a guy in a bar, how are you going to stash your doubt long enough to have fun halfway around the world?

  Most of her life, Emily had poured her efforts into work of some sort. In school, it was studying full time—she’d always had trouble keeping her grades up. After graduation, it was work of the paying sort. There was always another bill to pay, or requirement to prove herself.

  She wanted more, though. The desire to do and be and see more hit her several months ago, and refused to release its claws. She’d been saving her money, and when her next job was up, she’d have enough to take half a year off and go wherever she wanted in the world. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of almost being at that point combined with a test run of leaving her inhibitions behind.

  Fine. She sent back to Cynthia. But I’m going to a different place.

  Coming here specifically was a mistake. The bar was San Jose’s hot spot, frequented by everyone who wanted to be anyone. CEO’s of Silicon Valley’s startups.

  Cynthia sent a follow-up text. Where you are is the same as any other bar you’d go to. He doesn’t have to be brilliant, he just has to be attractive and know when to not talk. Stop making excuses.

  What if I do meet someone, and in a few months I find myself across from him in a contract?

  Then you deal with that when it happens. You run that risk anywhere you meet someone in this town.

  Emily dropped her phone back in her purse. Sometimes Cynthia made more sense than Emily wanted to admit.

  A raucous cheer went up from a table halfway across the room, and her gaze drifted before she could stop it. The group had been there for maybe half an hour and got louder with each passing minute.

  What kept drawing her eye, was the sexy guy sitting at the bar, a few feet from them. Dark hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and the way his button-down white shirt hugged the muscles of his torso was almost a sin. And she swore she saw a hint of ink scrawling above his collar. He wasn’t with the group, but if she cast her irritation in their direction each time they made noise, she got to see him.

  Someone at the table said something. From the way Mr. Sexy shook his head and took another drink, she was glad she couldn’t hear it. He looked up, and when he saw Emily, his scowl melted into a smile.

  Not fair. That made him more attractive. Maybe Cynthia was right; this bar was as good as any. Emily returned the look. When he pushed back his chair and strode in her direction, her pulse hammered in her ears.

  Crap. Smiling worked? She didn’t expect that. Now what?

  He took the seat next to her and settled his arm against hers. “Can I buy you another of whatever you’re drinking?”

  He even had a sexy voice. This wasn’t real. Was it? “No, thanks. I’ve had enough.”

  His brow furrowed for a moment, and he studied her. “That’s good for me, then. If you’re sober, I know you’re genuinely interested. That means I can keep you up late.” He winked.

  Her thoughts ground to a halt, before spinning up at high speed and diving into the analytical. Was that meant to be innuendo? The wink said he was teasing. Or being seductive. Was he making conversation and nothing more? What was she supposed to say next?

  The way he looked her over, attention lingering on her chest and then her lips, sent heat flooding across her skin. “You’re new to this.” His eyes flashed with amusement.

  Her thoughts stalled, and she growled at herself. This was ridiculous. She knew how to be assertive. It had taken her a while to learn, but as a contract software developer who was frequently assigned to work for companies who didn’t want her there, she’d learned how to walk that line between aggressive and friendly. “No, I’m not. I pick up confident, attractive guys all the time.”

  “I like it.” His gaze was back on hers. Up close, his eyes weren’t simply blue; they were cool and clear, like warm ice. “I’m curious. You’re an attractive woman, who’s made more eye contact with your phone tonight than with any person here. You’re drinking alone in the middle of a bar full of sharks. Are you one of them, or looking to land one?”

  She wasn’t sure if she should be insulted by the shark comparison. His tone didn’t imply he was being rude. It didn’t matter. She was stepping outside of her comfort zone, and he didn’t have to be a brilliant conversationalist to be a one-night stand. The thought left a bitter aftertaste that she tried to ignore. “Neither. I’m supposed to be celebrating with a friend, but she couldn’t make it.”

  “She doesn’t sound like a great friend.”

  Cynthia would do anything for her. “She’s the best, but sometimes work has to come first. What about you? You’re obviously on the prowl. Are you showing off your fin or looking for guppies?” This was good. She’d keep him from stealing the conversation away.

  He grinned. “Who? Me? What about me says predatory?”

  “Besides the toothy, devour-me smile?” Damn it. Despite the voice insisting he didn’t need to be anything besides attractive to be an option, she was as interested in what lay below the surface as the package it came in. Pretty paper shredded easily.

  “Yes. Besides that.”

  “Everything.”

  “That’s not super specific.” He trailed a finger up her arm.

  She lingered on the warmth of his touch, and the goosebumps he left behind. “In that case, I’m too polite to say.”

  “Except that you led with the observation, which means your tongue’s not completely tied. Maybe I’m not a shark. What if I’m a complex book with enough pages no one will ever read them all?”

  “Most people are.” Or rather, most people preferred to think they were. The banter with him moved at a nice clip, and she liked that she had to think to keep up. Maybe he’d be one of the few who was that complex.

  “I bet you’re curious about my book’s contents,” he said.

  “I’m still trying to decide if there are enough to make it worth my time.”

  “Ouch. But that’s fair. Still, I think you’ve already started to compile a history for me, as well as everyone else you’ve watched tonight, and you want to know if you’re right.”

  How was she supposed to react to that? His words were confrontational, but his tone and posture were flirty. She let her mouth keep running without permission; it was doing all right thus far. “Because I know you’re on the hunt tonight? I don’t need a complete history to guess that. It’s the same kind of observant as me reading the neon sign in the window and knowing they serve Bud Light here.”

  “If I’m that obvious, you tell me—am I showing off my fin, or am I looking for guppies? And what does that make you?”

  “Still looking for
more of those pages you mentioned.” The back and forth was fun, but not if it didn’t move beyond the fish analogies.

  “You’re right.” He didn’t reach for her, but the shift in his tone was enough to make her pause. “I tend to grab hold of an idea and run with it, but it’s clear the whole shark thing isn’t doing it for you. Let’s start over.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not the way this works. You don’t get to find one woman and try every bad line you know on her until she caves.”

  “I’m not here to pick someone up. That’s not a line; I promise. I saw you, and I couldn’t help myself. Apparently in more ways than one.”

  That was flattering. It might be another line, despite his assurance, but it sounded genuine enough to draw her back into the conversation. “Why are you here, then?”

  “I was supposed to meet a friend, too, but something came up.” He leaned back enough to draw his gaze over her again, this time lingering on her face.

  “That’s convenient. I tell you a story, then you parrot it back to me and spin it as unique, simultaneously convincing me we have something in common and that you’re different from everyone else in here.”

  “Nope. I’m not unique.” He nodded around the room. “Like every other suit here—and by here I mean the valley, not the bar—I own a tech startup. We wrote an app.”

  His reply was rooted in the harsh reality of living in a town where everyone had written an app. That he didn’t mind admitting it made her smile. The release relaxed her.

  “Until I saw you drinking alone, I was only in here for the white noise and to drown my sorrows,” he said.

  “Is that when you zeroed in on me as a gullible guppy?”

  “Not even close. I always pictured guppies as the water equivalent of sheep, and you’re most definitely neither. You strike me as more of a siren. Gorgeous and alluring from a distance, but dangerous if someone unsuspecting gets close.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “That’s a bit over the top. Not quite at the level of the shark analogy, but close.”

  “I’m being sincere. I was before, as well, but like I said—sometimes I hold onto an idea longer than I should.” He hovered a finger it millimeters from her lips before dropping his hand again. “I wanted to talk to you, and one-too-many drinks convinced me smooth and cocky was the way to go.”

  Talking to him was a new kind of captivating. He was sexy-as-fuck on the physical scale, and intriguing on top of that. She couldn’t guess his intentions or next move, and she wanted to find out more. “Why are you drowning your sorrows?”

  “Boring business stuff.”

  “That’s not super specific.” She intentionally mimicked his reply from earlier.

  “I don’t want to sound like everyone else in the room. But since you’re prodding... My investors want me to do one thing with my business. I want to do something else. They won. First thing Monday morning, they’re sending in a ruthless, heartless killer to determine how many ways we’ve fucked up. It’s not the executioner, but the judge and jury. Someone to report back to the men up top, about whether our fuckup is small enough to gloss over or they should sacrifice my whole company.” His bitter tone put most she’d heard to shame.

  She pitied the poor person who got in his path Monday morning. “Sounds brutal.”

  “It is. I may be a shark, but I’m not the biggest one in my ocean.” He frowned, then shook his head, and his smirk flitted back in. “I’m getting fucked, we’ve both been stood up by the people supposed to have our backs, and you’re sure you don’t want another drink?” He waved the bartender over.

  “On second thought, I’d love one. Something with ice in it.” Maybe that would cool the heat flowing over her. Then again, maybe she didn’t want the warmth gone.

  “Two Jack and Cokes on the rocks.” He ordered, slid a bill across the bar, and turned back to her.

  “Why the shark analogy?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I’m in a Jaws kind of mood.”

  She pursed her lips. “Is this the point where you tell me we should compare scars? Am I Robert Shaw or Richard Dreyfuss?”

  “It’s not a bad suggestion, but...” He tugged down his collar, exposing more of the tattoos. They scrolled around the back of his neck and vanished beneath his shirt. This wasn’t fair. Every new hint he showed of himself was another layer of tantalizing.

  He exposed his right shoulder and—without looking—pointed to a shark in the middle of a collage of cartoon characters, map pieces, and foreign characters. “Really, I’m a fan of the movie. First tattoo I got was when I visited Martha’s Vineyard. Some tourists collect shot glasses. I wanted my memories to be more permanent, so every tattoo is from a place I’ve been.”

  The glimpse she had said there were a lot of tattoos. “Wow.” She reached up and traced the edges of color on his skin, some more distinct and others faded. He’d done the traveling she only dreamed of. Her fascination grew several notches. “I bet you have some amazing stories to go with each of these.”

  He covered her fingers and drew them down his collarbone and across his chest before letting go. “I do.”

  “I don’t have anything to show you in return. I’ve only got the one scar, and it’s going to take a couple more drinks, or a bit more witty banter, before I show you proof of my appendix surgery.” Though at this point, she was hoping for a lot of the latter, and the opportunity to show him more than just the pale white line running along her side.

  Something caught her eye, and she brushed his neck again. His skin was smooth against her fingertips, coaxing her nerve endings to life. She nudged aside the fabric of his shirt for a closer look at one of his tattoos. “A phoenix?”

  “Shit. Now you’ve discovered my dorky side.” Amusement sparkled in his eyes. His expression was mischievous, and a new level of alluring.

  That didn’t mean she understood why he thought the bird was dorky. “It’s a symbol of death and rebirth. Of rising from the ashes. That’s magnificent.”

  “And exactly what I’ll tell the next person who asks why I got it. Your answer is a lot better than mine.”

  She laughed. “What’s the real reason?”

  “I love comics, and I’ve got a thing for redheads who have an uncanny ability to see past what’s on the surface.”

  He could be talking about her or Jean Grey. Probably a little of both, and she wasn’t sure she cared what the ratio was. The compliment danced over her skin and made her pulse race. “Sirens and psychics. You like your women exotic.”

  “I never thought of it that way. I prefer the term unique. But the right magic powers make for a good fantasy.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” In fact, visions filled her mind as they spoke. Of how this man’s lips would feel, pressed hard and hungry against hers. Of his fingers roaming her body, stripping away her clothing a piece at a time. Of what came next.

  “What kind of fantasies have you got?”

  She shook her head. “You’re redeeming yourself from the bad start, but not enough to segue from comics to sex.”

  “I don’t remember specifying the type of fantasy, but now that you mention it... I’m curious. I feel like I’m the only one sharing.”

  She was pretty sure she’d shared more than she intended to. It was working for her though, and she wasn’t interested in turning back now. The only problem with that was she never meant to share details. “Nope. Even if you had broken my defenses down that far, I’d tell you, you’d be bothered, and the night would be over.”

  He frowned. “You don’t get off on guys licking your shoes, do you? Because I’ve sworn off groveling outside of office hours. Especially if I’m not getting paid.” His tone started as serious, but shifted back to playful by the end of the sentence.

  Or she’d imagined it was anything but lighthearted. “It’s not that. I promise.”

  “Now I’m curious. You’ve built it up enough that, once you tell me, it’ll seem like nothing and we’ll both
laugh it off.”

  She doubted that, but the challenge to shock him was enough to loosen her tongue. The hope he would be put off after all made up her mind for her. “One of my favorites? Being with two guys at once.”

  “Why would that bother me?”

  “It doesn’t threaten your masculinity or make you feel inadequate?” She expected at least a hint of recoil.

  He shrugged. “It’s a fantasy. But if you’d like to make it real, I can see if my friend’s done working for the night. Women love him. Italian accent. Tall, dark, and handsome. The two of us could make your night.” He reached toward his jeans. “I’ll call him.”

  She grabbed his wrist, and a jolt of want raced through her. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s called fantasy for a reason.”

  “Then you don’t want company?”

  “In my fantasy? You’re already there.” She hadn’t meant to admit that, but she was glad the confession was out there. Images of this man and his faceless friend teased and tempted her. Why had she stopped him from making that call? Right. She might be up for bold tonight, and would even say yes if he wanted to take this conversation somewhere more private, but she wasn’t willing to shed all her inhibitions yet.

  “I was thinking something more outside of your head but with less background noise than here. Like my place.” He stood and offered his hand. When she grasped his fingers, he tugged her to her feet. He dipped his head and trailed his lips along the edge of her ear. “No expectations. Unless you’re into lengthy arguments about whether Green Lantern was a better movie than Batman Forever.”

  “That’s not a lengthy conversation. It was Batman.” Who the hell was this guy? Cocky asshole, closeted geek, or something in between she couldn’t quite place her finger on? It was enough to ratchet her curiosity up several notches. She wanted to find out more and had just enough Jack flowing through her veins to strip away her reservations.