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drink, willing her to make eye contact. She didn't, looking a little to my right.
    “Do you wish to make a tab or pay now?” she asked.
    “I'll start a tab,” I said.
    “Right.” She frowned, but it was brief and then her polite smile was back again. “Start a tab.”
    “Would it be insulting if I asked where you were from?” I kept my tone casual as I picked up the glass and took a sip. Vodka. Not bad. “Feel free to tell me to go to hell.”
    That got a hint of a sparkle in her eyes. “The Czech Republic,” she answered. She gestured toward the drink. “That is acceptable?”
    I nodded and opened my mouth to try another line, but she was already starting to walk away.
    “Excuse me.” The words sounded automatic.
    She crossed over to the other side of the bar where a pair of middle-aged men were drinking beer. I sipped at my drink and made no attempt to disguise that I was checking her out. My previous sentiment about wanting to drown my sorrows was slipping away. Maybe what I really needed was a challenge. Someone smart and sexy who'd make me work for it in a way that didn't consist of buying drinks and laughing at inane jokes.
    I drained my glass. There was always one way to make a bartender come to me. “Miss!” I called out. “Another please.”
    She came back over, picking up the bottle on her way.
    “Can I get your name with that drink?” I asked. “So I don't have to keep yelling 'Miss' at you every time I want a refill.”
    “You are planning on drinking more?” She filled the glass. “Perhaps I should take your car keys.”
    “Are you concerned with my safety?” I reached out toward her hand.
    She pulled back before I could touch her. “As I am with all of my customers.”
    “So I'm nothing special?” I tried giving her my best sad face. I'd used it for everything from getting out of parking tickets to convincing teachers to give me extensions for homework or retakes for tests. And that didn't even include all the times I'd gotten laid because girls thought it was cute.
    She sighed. “Let me keep you from wasting your time. You cannot charm me into giving you free drinks or my phone number. Another drink, that I will give you. A listening ear as well, but that is as far as it will go.”
    I stared at her. Had she just shut me down? I'd never had a woman so blatantly tell me no. Sure, there had been the ones who'd played hard to get, but they'd always been coy about it, still sending out signals that they were interested. With her, I wasn't so sure that was the case. There had to be a reasonable explanation.
    “Are you gay?” The question popped out before I could stop it. I flushed, probably for the first time ever. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say that.” I looked down at the glass. “Must've been stronger than I thought.”
    For the first time, she actually looked amused. “I am not a lesbian, Mister...”
    “Blayne,” I said. “Blayne Westmore.” I waited for recognition, but it didn't come. “And you are?”
    She topped off my glass again. “Still not interested.”
    My eyes narrowed as she walked away and I took another drink. She might not be interested, but I definitely was. I would win her over if it was the last thing I did.
     

Chapter 6
    Livie
    I had been working at the bar for several weeks, and before that I had worked at other places as a waitress. Then there were the years I had spent as a model. I was used to men ogling me and flirting with me. Young men, old men, fat, thin, ugly, attractive. Sometimes they were sober, more often they were drunk, though that was usually due to my location more than them needing to be drunk to think I was good-looking. I had a fair assessment of my appearance. No one became a model by being unattractive.
    And speaking of looks... I gave my newest customer another sideways glance. He said his name was Blayne Westmore and his tone implied the name should mean something to me. It didn't, but I didn't need to know who he was