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gesture.
    “Hot is my middle name, Charlie. You know
that.”
    He laughed. The way Sam stated it as a
matter-of-fact, there wasn’t much Charlie could do. With a light
clap to Clay’s shoulder, he said, “I’m trying to show my friend
here a good time while he’s in town. Any ideas?”
    “Why not start right here?” Sam slanted an
eye toward Sydney. “Couple of attractive women, expert bartender on
hand...”
    Charlie looked at Sydney and she iced him
with a “don’t even think about it” look.
    “Sounds good to me,” Clay said and stepped
over next to Sydney. He placed his hands on the back of her chair
in what she found to be a presumptive move. Her insides shifted.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
    Visibly uncomfortable, Charlie glanced
between the two.
    “Why don’t you wander around a bit, Charlie?”
Sam suggested. “See what you can rustle up in the way of prospects.
Don’t worry.” She patted the top of Clay’s hand. “We’ll look after
your friend here while you’re gone.”
    He looked at her, then Clay, and finally to
Sydney who continued her freezing glare.
    “Trust me,” Sam said and moved her hand to
squeeze Charlie’s shoulder. “He’s in good hands.”
    “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” He
nodded, as if it were exactly what he intended. “Clay? You okay
here for a while?”
    He signaled for the bartender’s attention.
“I’ll wait for you right here, brother.”
    Like a wicked old matchmaker, Sam slipped a
smile to Sydney.
    “Suit yourself.” Charlie perused the bar,
searching for direction. His features suddenly relaxed as he let
out a low whistle. “Well, look who just walked in.”
    All eyes followed his gaze to the three women
entering the bar. Three attractive twenty-something blondes wearing
thigh high short skirts and four inch heels. The girls swaggered
past and met up with another group of women seated by the
floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Biscayne Bay. The dock beyond
was lined with a spattering of lights, a few low-rises and then a
sheet of black water was dotted with red and green markers. Like a
dog latching onto the scent, Charlie made a show of following his
nose toward the trio.
    The man made Sydney ill.
    “So what are we drinking?” Clay asked.
    “Gin martini.”
    “Mine’s mango,” Sydney said, suddenly
conscious of Clay’s close physical presence as he stood by her
side. So close, the blue of his eyes seemed to grab hold of her.
His cologne clung to the very air around her shoulders, the bare
skin of her arms. Subtle, rich, it was a mix of cedar and citrus
and one hundred percent appealing. She cleared her throat. “Um,
it’s good. You should try one.”
    He looked at it and shook his head. “Looks a
bit frou-frou for me.”
    “Hm...” Sydney turned her head away from
Clay, more a need to gather her senses than anything. The man was
definitely attractive, in an alluring, distracting kind of way.
    The bartender appeared and with one eye still
firmly hooked on Sam, asked Clay, “What can I get you to
drink?”
    “You have Kalik?”
    “Coming right up.”
    “What a nice surprise to run into you again,”
he said, his gaze warm and fluid, his smile electric as it coaxed
her focus back to him. “I’ve been wondering how your game
went.”
    “Fine,” she said. The sharp reminder that
this man had seen her in her bathing suit was somewhat unnerving.
It made her fitted skirt feel almost conservative, despite the fact
it rose halfway up her thigh. She dropped a hand to rest over top
of her exposed leg.
    “I wanted to come back and watch you play,
but Charlie wouldn’t go for it. And since I’m at his mercy...”
    “I’m sorry for you.”
    He raised a brow. “You don’t care much for
Charlie, do you?”
    She looked up at him. “Is it that obvious?”
Sydney pitched over to Sam for a little reinforcement on the
subject but none was forthcoming. She merely smiled and sipped. And
watched.
    The bartender slid the clear