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another drink.”
    Marco gave her a close look. “What’s the problem?”
    “You’re younger than me,” she said on a huff, as if that was an explanation in itself.
    “By a year.”
    “Never mind.” She shook her head and waved down the waiter. “I just thought you were older.”
    “Do you have an aversion to younger men?”
    “Like dating a younger man?”
    “Whatever works.”
    “I—I’ve never really thought about it.”
    He gave her a curious look. “How old is Gordon?”
    “Forty-one.”
    “Ah, a sugar daddy.”
    “What?” she yelped. “Gordon is not my sugar daddy.”
    He gave her a searching look. “Did you grow up without a father?”
    “No! What are you, a psychologist?”
    “Do I look like a psychologist? I’m just trying to figure out what makes you tick.”
    “Well don’t worry about my ticking,” she grumbled. “That’s my biological clock’s department.”
    Marco gave a soft laugh. “Did you really want that other drink or would you rather see a show?”
    Brandy sighed and looked down at her almost empty glass. “The show. Alcohol’s open twenty-four hours a day here.”
    With another laugh, Marco caught the waitress’s attention and signaled for the bill.
     
    “That was amazing.” Brandy knocked back a shot of tequila and covered Marco’s hand with hers, giving him an earnest look. “In fact, you know what? You’re great, Marco Vargas.”
    “Er—you’re pretty great too, Brandy.”
    She was completely trashed, Marco realized, as she picked up the bottle of tequila and poured herself another shot. The golden liquid sloshed over the shot glass, but she didn’t seem to notice.
    He should have cut her off. He’d tried to, seeing as it was second nature to him by now—it was what he did for a living. Seeing people get drunk and push their limit was nothing new to him.
    But Brandy had been so adamant that she could handle her alcohol. So after she’d promised to get a room at one of the hotels, he’d driven her to another bar. Stupid. Real stupid .
    Marco checked his watch. God . Was it almost two in the morning? What the hell had happened to his midnight cutoff? He needed to get her checked into a room and then head home.
    “I don’t want to crash your party, Brandy, but I have to be at work by ten tomorrow. I should head out soon.”
    Brandy’s eyes widened and then she nodded. “Oh. Of course. I’ll just grab a cab once I finish this bottle of tequila.”
    Marco’s lips twisted despite his fatigue. “I didn’t realize a trip to the E.R. was one of your sightseeing destinations.”
    “The E.R.?” She slurred her words now. “Why would I go to the E.R.?”
    “Tell you what. Let me use the bathroom and then I’ll drive you to a hotel,” he said. “It’s after two and we need to get you a room somewhere.”
    “After two? Already?” Her eyebrows drew into a scowl and then she suddenly grinned. “How about we get a hotel room together, big boy?”
    Big boy? What the fuck? And she wanted to get a room? The blood in his veins rushed south and his mind flickered back over that kiss earlier. Hmm. Get a roo— No .
    Besides, would she even remember this conversation in the morning?
    “I don’t really want to be alone tonight.” She toyed with the neckline of her shirt and gave him a suggestive look, running her tongue across her mouth.
    “Brandy—”
    “Please, Polo.”
    What the hell? “It’s Marco.”
    “That’s what I said.”
    She was trying to be sexy, he could acknowledge that. But she wasn’t doing a very good job. In fact she was pretty much failing miserably. Instead of coming across as a sex kitten , she was what she was. A drunken choir teacher in a cat shirt .
    “It’s not a good idea.” He stood up. “I’ll be right back and when I return we can go. All right?”
    “All right.” Brandy frowned, swishing the shot around in the tiny glass.
    Marco stood up. Thank God this crazy night would soon be over.
     
    Tequila was