Sliding onto a barstool, he noted the bartender. The lovely blonde on point looked like she just might be what he needed with her sleeves of tattoos, low-slung leather pants, and curvy body. Her hair hung in dreadlocks to her waist and was held back from her delicate face with a black bandana. She glanced at him, looked away, then immediately glanced back. She licked her pierced lower lip and made her interest known with a heated glance.

When she’d finished serving her customer, she came over. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiraz.”

Her brows rose. “Really? Wouldn’t have pegged you for a wine drinker.”

“No?”

“No. Jameson, maybe. Or Glennfiddich.” She poured expertly and set the glass in front of him. “In the mood for something else?”

His fingertips slid lightly up and down the stem of his glass. “Suggestions?”

“I’m off at midnight.”

“I’m free at midnight.”

Her mouth curved in a sexy smile and she extended her hand. “Sam.”

He stroked her palm. “Raze.”

He watched her saunter off, admiring the way black leather hugged her lush ass, then he picked up his glass and stared into it. Still fucking brooding, goddamnit.

He smelled the woman who stole his interest from Sam before he heard her.

“ She’s not what you want.”

The clipped, no-nonsense female voice stirred something inside him, as did her scent. He savored both a moment before he looked at her, appreciating both her directness and the fragrance she wore, which was light and sweetly floral, a perfect accompaniment to the natural female scent of her skin.

Raze glanced aside at the woman who made herself comfortable in the space next to him. She wasn’t his type. Too refined and complicated for his tastes, but there was no denying she was beautiful. Willowy body with modest curves. Creamy skin contrasted by dark hair. Vivid green eyes framed by thick, black lashes. She was an altogether stunning package. “She isn’t?”