Sounding hopeful, she asked, “Do you have something fruity you’d recommend?”
“Shot or drink?”
“Drink,” Ro answered instantly.
No more shots for me, thank you, very much.
“Iced?”
She gave a quick nod. “Yes, please.”
The thirty-something woman with short, spiky red hair, several earrings, and a nose ring tapped her finger on the bar as she took a few seconds to ponder. “You like coconut-flavored drinks?”
“Very much.” It was one of her favorites, actually.
“I’ve got just the thing. Hold tight.”
With a tap of the counter, the woman set about mixing a concoction that reminded her of the beach. Not the ones along the coast of Lake Michigan, but rather one along the ocean’s coast.
One with soft white sand and a sea of turquoise as far as the eye could see where the bite of the sun’s kisses could be felt on the skin as a warm sea breeze ruffled the large, flat leaves of nearby palm trees.
Ro could see it so clearly in her mind, she could almost smell the salty air.
“Try that.”
A tall highball glass filled with a bright, iced, aquamarine concoction appeared before her. Balanced on its rim was a small orange wedge, and a bright red, stemmed cherry floating near the slim black straw.
Lifting the chilled glass from the bar’s surface, she brought the straw to her lips and sucked. An explosion of tropical heaven washed over her tastebuds, the combination of coconut rum and citrus the perfect balance of sweet and tart.
“Mmm…” Ro swallowed another sip before nodding to the auburn-haired goddess. “Ohmygosh, that’s delicious!” she exclaimed loudly enough for the other woman to hear. “What’s it called?”
“A Blue Hawaiian,” the other woman yelled back.
Taking another sip, she nodded with another show of approval. “It’s perfect, thank you!”
After paying the bill with her debit card, she shoved a generous cash tip into the lidded glass jar one close by before turning to make her way back to her friends. A few accidental bumps and several shoulder-brushes later, and Ro was only three tables away when she heard someone calling her name.
“Aurora!”
The imperious male voice was familiar, and one that had Ro stopping in her tracks. It was also a voice she’d been hoping to go a day without hearing.
Great. Just what I needed to deal with tonight.
Donning her perfected game face, she spun on her spiked heels and faced the man who’d flagged her down…
Clayton Yorke, sole heir to his family’s billion-dollar Yorkshire Luxury Suites and Spa hotel chain. The Forbes-500 Chicago-based company was well-known around the world’s most rich and famous, and Clayton well…
Clayton was one of the city’s most eligible bachelors and, as of a month ago, Ro’s most recent client.
Tall, light brown hair and scruff that always combed just-so and trimmed to perfection, a fit runner’s build, and blue eyes that seemed to constantly be searching for their next target, the uber-rich man was even better looking in person than on any news broadcast or magazine cover.
He was also arrogant, more than a little pretentious, and brazen as hell when it came to his unabashed flirting. Not that he would ever actually want todateher.
Like a man like Clayton Yorke actually dates the woman he’s seen with.
Like most single women in Chicago—and probably half of the married ones—Ro had kept up on the man’s bachelor status through social media and the tabloids at the news stands. But her interest was purely professional.
One of the best ways to land a client was to know as much about them as possible, using every available resource. And from everything she’d learned, there was one aspect of the billionaire heir’s highly publicized life that remained consistent no matter the source…