Lisa’s two companions exchange a worried glance. One of them clears her throat and gives me an apologetic look. “Our sister is, um…going through a rough time.”

     The other one nods at Lisa. “And she’s not really used to drinks that are quite so…stiff.”

     Is it my imagination, or did that chick just glance at my crotch? I don’t have time to ponder it because Lisa’s talking again, and damn if the woman doesn’t yank my attention like she’s got it on a choke chain.

     “My sisters are right,” she says as she picks up her martini and takes a ladylike sip. “But I suppose one could posit that there hasn’t been nearly enough stiff or dirty in my life thus far.”

     Did she really just say “posit” and “thus” in the same sentence as “stiff” and “dirty?” Who the hell is this chick? And why the fuck do I care?

     I tap the stem of her martini glass. “How many of those have you had?”

     She sets it down on the table, reaches  under the table and grabs my knee. Her green eyes lock with mine, and it shocks me enough that I almost drop my beer.

     “Enough to take you home with me right now and do unspeakable things all night long.” She frowns, possibly replaying those words in her head and not liking the sound of them. “Wait, I didn’t mean to imply I’d have to be drunk in order to—”

     “One,” her sister interjects, smiling a little as she shakes her head. “Lisa has only had the one drink.”

     “And no, she’s not crazy,” the other sister adds helpfully, tossing out the sort of fond smile you’d reserve for a nutty aunt who just gnawed the drumstick off the turkey at Thanksgiving dinner. “Present display notwithstanding.”

     Lisa shoots them a disdainful look, but there’s more warmth in it than actual anger. It’s clear these three are tight. I’m still a little mind-whacked from her hand on my knee and the words she just said a few seconds ago.

     Enough to take you home with me right now and do unspeakable things all night long.

     “I’m sorry, did you just proposition me?” I ask.

     Lisa nods, looking a little surprised by it herself. “Yes. Yes, I did. Is that a problem?”

     I think about it a second. “You’re not married?”

     “Of course not.” She gives me a haughty eyebrow lift.

     “Or drunk?”

     She scoffs. “Hardly.”

     I study her, trying to figure out the angle. “Is this some sort of grudge fuck?”

     She looks me right in the eye, an unexpected challenge in those green depths. “Would that be a problem for you?”

     I hesitate. Do I really want to start down this path? True, I have a weakness for polished blondes, but that hasn’t turned out great for me in the past.

     Then again, I did come over here intending to one-up my ex.

     Lisa’s hand slides a few inches up my thigh, and I find myself grunting an answer. “Nope. Grudge fucks are not a problem.”

     Her face breaks into a broad smile, and my chest tightens unexpectedly. Holy hell, she’s gorgeous when she does that. I grip my beer and remind myself to keep a tight grip on my sanity while I’m at it.

     “Well, Dax Kensington,” Lisa says, licking her lips. “Shall we get out of here?”