His eyes easily adjusted to the flashes of light ricocheting off of the mirrored walls. The club was intricate and he took note of some easy adjustments he could make in his own place. He assessed the room with an eye for detail, paying little attention to the crowd or the noise. He was used to both.
The winding set of stairs dropped him off at the VIP section. He told the bouncer his name again. He was really getting tired of this. New York didn’t belong to him the same way that Atlanta did. It was a mild irritation, but an irritation nonetheless. After clearing him, the bouncer pulled back the rope and allowed him into the exclusive upstairs bar.
He hated being impressed, but this place was high end. The next one he purchased would have this flare. It managed sleek, modern, and classy without going over the top in any of them. Bottle service was provided at client’s requests, but a full-length bar was still accessible on the far wall.
That’s where he saw her.
A charming smile broke out on his face, and he crossed the room. He leaned forward against the bar and snapped his fingers twice in the most annoying manner. “How do I get good service around here?”
“Sir, I give good service to anyone who doesn’t snap at me,” the woman responded cattily never turning around as he snapped again.
He tried to keep the smirk from his face. She had always been a petite girl with straight hair down to her shoulders. He nearly angled his head to appreciate the tiny ass hidden behind her too short shorts.
“If you snap at me one more time,” she said turning around angrily. Her mouth dropped open. “Holy shit!”
“Hey Lace,” he said letting that easy smirk fall on his lips.
“Ramsey fucking Bridges! You didn’t tell me you were going to be here!” Lacy said, leaning forward on the bar and ignoring her clients. Her purchased breasts fell forward out of the black corset top she was wearing as she smiled up at him.
“I like surprises,” he said with a shrug.
“I like your kind of surprises.” She immediately grabbed a bottle off of the back wall and started pouring into two shot glasses. Pushing one across the bar, she raised it for him to toast.
“Can you drink on the clock?” he asked condescendingly.
“Nope,” she said clicking her glass against his and downing it in one clean sweep.
He followed suit appreciating the top shelf tequila. He set the glass back down and smiled at Lacy. “When do you get off?”
“Is that a trick question, Mr. Bridges?” she asked, waving her hand in the air. He shrugged. He would let her come to her own conclusions. “Oh fine. Probably four. If I’d known you were going to be here, I could have been done earlier.”
“Four works for me. I have some work to do anyway,” he told her. Lacy handed him another drink, remembering his preferences like a pro. “You know a good pie place around here?”
“Sure. Pie at four in the morning? Only in New York,” she said, rolling her eyes and moving on to help her other needy customers.
Ramsey checked his watch. Perfect timing. His interview should be here any minute. He pulled up the guy’s resume on his cell phone and scrolled through it absentmindedly. Pretty impressive until the company he had been working for had gone under, and he was originally from Georgia. That was always a positive in hiring new people from out of state. Hopefully this guy had some people skills; Ramsey was easily bored.
He sipped on his drink, waited on his interview, and watched the VIP section fill up. Geez, where was this guy? It was really bad to show up late to an interview. Even the strippers showed up on time.
Impatient, Ramsey stood from his seat at the bar and made a quick sweep of the perimeter. He wanted to give it his best chance of finding the guy. He had a picture of who he was supposed to interview, but didn’t see anyone yet that looked like him.
What kind of wild goose hunt had Bekah sent him on? This was the last time he was ever doing her a favor again. Okay, probably not, but still…
His drink now empty, he returned to the bar and took over a seat that someone else had just vacated. Setting his empty glass on the bar, he waited for Lacy to pour him another one amidst the chaos, letting his eyes skim the crowd again. As they traveled over one of the couches, he stopped and was glad he was sitting down.
What the hell was Parker doing here?
CHAPTER 3
ONE WAY TICKET
Ramsey couldn’t help himself. He just stared at Parker.
Holy shit, she was beautiful!
His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and it was hard to swallow. Why did she have to be here? He was trying to forget her. Why wouldn’t she just let him forget her?
Tonight was not the night for all of this, and yet he couldn’t push the feelings aside. He wanted her—not just physically either. He had never wanted anyone else more—anyone else at all.
It had been three years since the break up, since their fuck up, and she still managed to grip his heart. She kept him from feeling anything for anyone. How could he? Why would he feel, when she was out there somewhere?
And yet he had never tried to make it right. They couldn’t mend the crack that had shattered their love. It was irreparable. No matter how much he wanted to fix it, to make it better, he couldn’t. They couldn’t.
His heartbreak ate away at him beneath his confident façade.
Parker turned her gaze in his direction, and he quickly diverted his eyes. He didn’t want her to see him. It would be too much. She was dating someone else. She didn’t love him anymore. It was over. It had been for a long time. Seeing her here, now, would just be another reminder of how much he had lost…how much he had given up.
Out of his peripheral vision, he took a closer look. Parker was blatantly staring at him now. He could almost see the clock working inside her brain as she eyed him, registering who he was. Would she come closer? Would she say anything? Or would she avoid him, just like he was avoiding her?
And then he saw it even in the dimness, and his heart contracted. She was not his Parker. She looked a whole hell of a lot like her, but she wasn’t her. No one else could ever be her.
He sagged in his seat, hating himself for the disappointment that settled in his gut.
Oh, God, she was getting up and walking directly toward him. It was now or never. It was his call. If he turned away, she might leave him alone. She might not come after what her walk was suggesting she wanted. But he couldn’t do it. Christ, she looked like Parker. And those hips were coming his way, and he wanted what they were screaming.
She tripped just as she neared him, her heel catching in some unknown crack in the floor, and she yelled out, “Oh!”
His move.
He reached out catching her body, as light as a feather, in his arms. She was tiny, but all toned muscle underneath her scat clothing. It wasn’t something he normally saw in women like this. He always expected them to be soft and pliable not to be fit. He liked fit.
The girl’s hand reached out and rested on his chest. Once she realized that she was safe, she still didn’t move it immediately. He righted her, keeping his hand firmly planted on her slender hips.
Getting a better look at her, he was just as shocked by her resemblance to Parker. Same dark hair, same dark chocolate eyes, same goddamn height! But he had to force himself to see the differences. This girl was much tanner than his Parker, who was alabaster pale in the hottest of summers with soft freckles across the bridge of her nose. This girl was a different build too. Parker had an athletic build from various sports—soccer, mostly. So, her thighs and calves were solid. Whoever this was had a much more lithe figure, less to hold onto. And now that he was looking, her face was slightly different shaped. Parker had a circular face, which her waves covered half the time, but this girl had a heart-shaped face and almond seductive eyes. It worked for her.
“I am so sorry. I just can’t seem to keep my balance in these things,” she purred and he glanced down at her heels.