Dream Girl

Chapter One

Zach checked his watch for the tenth time and sighed with irritation. Where the hell was Connor?

He tipped the beer bottle to his mouth and drained it. He'd dragged it out as long he could, but that was already one whole beer down while waiting for his brother to show up.

With everything happening at work right now, he could have stayed at the office and been productive, instead of sitting here in the bar all alone like a loser. He tapped his foot against the rung of his bar stool.

Zach looked around the dimly lit bar, which was starting to get busier now. There was still one empty pool table. The green felt top glowed under the low-hanging lights, calling to him, and his hands itched to pick up a cue, to feel the smooth wood sliding between his fingers. The crack of balls against each other only added to his frustration.

Someone took the seat next to him at the bar. Zach glanced to his right, expecting Connor, but did a fast double take as he took in the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen. Definitely not Connor.

Gold hair hung long and straight down her back, and she lifted a hand to flick some strands over her shoulder as she settled onto the barstool. She seemed oblivious to him as she set her chunky purse on the bar to her right. She leaned forward to catch the eye of the bartender, who appeared in an instant.

She smiled at the bartender, a flash of perfect white teeth. Her profile revealed a small nose and incredibly long eyelashes. As she leaned forward, her breasts thrust forward in her snug blue tee.

Zach's gaze moved lower to the strip of flesh at the hem of her T-shirt. The low-riding jeans dipped even lower as she leaned forward, and he swallowed hard as he caught a glimpse of a pale blue lace thong.

He was always attracted to blondes, but for some reason this girl had extra appeal.

Then she glanced at him, or rather, at his empty beer bottle. “I'll have one of those,” she told the bartender, who nodded.

Zach lifted his bottle to catch the bartender's attention, but he had already disappeared to look after the new customer.

"Damn,” he muttered, and got a glance from Blondie.

"Sorry,” she said, her voice smooth and warm. “He should have got you, too."

"Not your fault,” Zach said with a sigh. “That's the way my day has been going."

She smiled with impersonal sympathy, her eyes cautious, but man, they were stunning eyes—beautiful green-gold irises framed with those long, thick lashes. Her reserve appealed to him way more than if she'd been checking him out.

The bartender brought her beer along with a glass, which she declined. Zach liked that. He waved his empty bottle again.

"Another of the same?” the young bartender asked, barely able to drag his eyes away from the woman to his right. Zach grinned.

"Please."

He continued to study her, noting her short unpolished fingernails and long slim fingers holding the bottle lightly as she drank.

Then she glanced at her watch. “Are you meeting someone?” he asked, and she turned to face him again, nodding.

"Yes,” she said, turning away again.

He nodded. “Hope you have better luck than me. I've been waiting an hour.” He grimaced. “I think I've been stood up."

She smiled a little. “That's too bad."

She gave him her shoulder again, and he got the message: she didn't want to talk. Which only upped his interest.

She swiveled her stool so her back was to the bar and she could watch the pool players. She laughed as someone made an outstanding shot.

"You play?” Zach asked, hoping to continue their conversation.

Again, she glanced at him and nodded, eyes on the game being played at the nearest table.

"Me too. Looks like I won't get to play tonight, though.” Nothing. Jesus, he felt like he was talking to himself.

The bartender set Zach's beer on the counter, and he picked it up and took a long pull of the fresh, cold brew, the bubbles pleasantly stinging his palate. Damn, it was good, if he did say so himself.

He held up the bottle. “You like this beer?” he asked her, trying one more time.

This time she did look right at him, and her gaze almost knocked him off his stool. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of him, every thought in his head scattered. It was hard to drag in a breath and, alarmed at his reaction, he gulped his beer.

"It's my favorite,” she said. “This microbrewery makes a great amber ale too. But they don't have it here."

He raised his brows in surprise. “Yeah,” he said, his voice still choked. “You don't look like a beer connoisseur."

Her smile deepened and tugged at something inside him. Oh, man.

"Why not?” she inquired, eyes glinting. “Because I'm a girl?"

Oh yeah, she was most definitely a girl. “No, no,” he stuttered. “You know, women are actually better at men than distinguishing nuances in taste. They have better-developed taste buds."

"Really?"

"Tell me what you like about this beer."

She pursed her luscious lips. “Um ... well, it's crisp and clear, and even though it's full-flavored, it's light ... kind of citrusy and ... I don't know ... it makes me think of flowers."

He nodded. “You have good taste,” he said. “Not many people pick up on the slightly floral aroma."

"How do you know so much about it?"

Now he had her attention. “I own the brewery that makes it,” he said modestly.

Her eyes widened. “You're kidding. Wow! You own Surf Coast Brewery?"

"Well, my brother and I do,” he said, grinning. “We started it about eight years ago. It's going pretty well."

"I should say so! Wow.” She shook her head. “Well, it is so nice to meet you."

He looked at her admiringly. “Not many women are into beer."

She shrugged. “I like beer. I guess it comes from having three older brothers and a dad who are all beer drinkers."

"Good family.” He smiled and tipped the bottle to his lips again.

She smiled back at him, and then glanced down at her watch.

"Maybe we're both being stood up,” he commented.

Her eyebrows drew together. “It's not like Sara to be late."

So she was meeting a girl. That was good. Very good.

She rummaged through the purse sitting on the bar and pulled out a small silver cell phone, and then punched in some numbers and waited. Finally, she snapped the phone shut and set it on the bar with a sigh. “She's not answering.” She picked up her beer again. It was the first comment she'd made to him without being spoken to first.

"Maybe you and I could have a game?” he suggested. “While we wait."

She studied him. “I guess that would be okay,” she said slowly. “I'm not very good, though, I have to warn you."

He laughed. “That's okay. I'm no shark."

He held out a hand to help her slide off the high stool. She seemed little, standing beside his six feet two inches. He'd noticed the heels she wore with her jeans, which still only brought her to his chin. Little, but curvy in the right places, with toned, sleek muscles and an athletic grace.

They went to the rack on the wall and selected cues, and then moved over to the empty table. He racked the balls and let her break. She sunk the nine ball, and he watched her carefully line up her next shot. She'd played before, he could tell, but it was cute how hard she was trying to make a good shot.

Well, well, well, Blondie. After she took her second, third and fourth shots, he realized maybe she wasn't trying as hard as he thought. He waited and waited for his turn as she sank ball after ball, her lovely face intent, beautiful eyes darting over the table and assessing, measuring angles, setting up. He stood with his pool cue in his hands, watching, smiling faintly.

Then she looked up at him and gave a breathy laugh. “I'm doing pretty good, aren't I?"

"Uh ... yeah.” Then she took careful aim and shot. The ball rolled and nicked the edge of the one at which she'd aimed, but it was ever so slightly off, and the ball rolled toward the pocket and stopped.

Her eyes met his and she shrugged, smiling. “Oh well. Your turn."

He proceeded to clear the table, taking his time, making sure no careless slips caused him to give up his turn. If Blondie got one more turn, he might not get another chance, the way things were going.

She stood there, smiling, watching him, and as he straightened up from an awesome curve shot, he looked at her. She grinned, and her eyes gleamed with admiration. “You're good,” she said. He smiled back at her. Their eyes locked, and once again his heart lurched to a stop. The air in the bar seemed suddenly heavy and warm, and as his heart picked up a rapid rhythm, he felt himself break into a sweat.

"Think you can sink that...?” she murmured, nodding at the impossible shot, flipping her hair.

He sucked in a breath, tore his gaze away from her, and assessed the shot. He walked around the table. Yeah. He could do it. He pictured it in his mind, the perfect angle, the spin he'd need. Too bad his damn hands were shaking.

As he walked around, she didn't move out of his way, and their bodies brushed together. Heat shot straight to his groin. He even went lightheaded. Jesus.

He shook his head and took a moment to steady his nerves and his hands. Why was she having this effect on him? It was only a pool game. He'd played games with big money riding and never felt this kind of pressure.

He forced himself not to look at her, just took the shot. The ball rolled fast with left-handed English, hit another ball, and he knew it was bad. The ball hit the one he needed to sink and rolled in to the side rail.

Shit.

He raised his dismayed gaze to hers as she laughed sympathetically. “Nice try."

He shook his head, but he wasn't really mad. Not when he got to watch her bend over the table, her lacy blue thong peeking over the top of her jeans, her cute little ass temptingly thrust out. Oh man. He groaned.

She took her shot, another challenging one, and this time she sunk it. Laughing and tossing her hair, she lined up for the next one. Her little pink tongue came out and touched her upper lip while she concentrated. Then she glanced up at him, and her face kind of changed as she lost her concentration. He was sure she could see his arousal and appreciation, and her fingers slipped a little on the shaft of her cue.

"Damn,” she said as her shot went a hair wide.

It was his turn now. And it wasn't even hard. Well, the shot wasn't hard, but he was. “Eight ball in the corner pocket,” he said smugly. With an effortless flick of his wrist, he sunk the ball and grinned.

"Good game,” Zach said with genuine approval. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun playing pool.

She smiled back at him, not too disturbed by losing.

"I think you're better than you let on.” He stood right in front of her, so close they were almost touching, so close he could see the glints of gold in her eyes. They reminded him of the effervescent bubbles in a good, clear amber ale. “That wasn't your ‘A’ game, was it?"

She blinked and her lips curved enticingly; she hitched one shoulder. “Maybe not."

He laughed with delight. “Come on, I'll buy you a beer,” he offered, taking her cue and replacing it on the wall.

She hesitated and glanced around, as if looking for her friend. Placing his hand lightly on the small of her back, Zach directed her back to their barstools. He put a hand out and held hers while she climbed up. Her hand felt small and delicate in his larger one, and as she rose onto the stool, her scent surrounded him—a fresh, fruity scent that smelled ... delicious. Like strawberries and watermelon.

He was painfully aware of her now, sitting beside him. She was his dream girl come to life—gorgeous, blonde, and she liked beer and played pool. Wow. Zach silently thanked Connor for standing him up.

"So Blondie, another of the same?"

She lifted a brow. “Blondie?"

"I don't know your name,” he admitted apologetically. “I'm Zach."

"Ashlyn.” She slid her little hand into his, and he held it again as he looked at her appealing face. She met his gaze and awareness sizzled between them.

Just then the bartender arrived, and Zach ordered two more of the same.

"So did you learn to play pool from your three brothers?” Zach asked.

Ashlyn smiled. “Yeah. I had to keep up with them. How about you? You've obviously played a lot."

He grinned. “In high school, my brother and I spent more time at the pool hall than in classes, much to my mother's dismay.” He shrugged. “Now it's good for stress relief."

She nodded. “I guess there's a lot of stress that comes with running your own business."

They sipped cold beer and talked. Ashlyn fascinated Zach. She was so sweet and pretty and sexy. She told him she was a student at UC Rocky Harbor, taking some kind of computer classes, so she was obviously smart, too. As she grew more comfortable, she smiled and met his eyes more often. And every time she did, it was like a live current jolted through him. She even put her hand on his forearm when they laughed.

He grew harder and hornier as they talked, too, aroused not just by her looks but by her rapt interest in everything he said. The attention was seriously stimulating.

An intense aching settled low inside Zach, a craving for her building up in him, red hot, burning. He started to think Ashlyn might feel the same, as her knee brushed his and she touched his arm. Then when their eyes met, they held each other's gazes, and her tongue came out and touched her pretty upper lip.

God. A hot jolt of desire stabbed through him.

The seductive invitation in her eyes drew him in, surrounding him in a hot haze of sexual desire. Two hours later they were still sitting there, talking and laughing. Zach's fingers were entwined with Ashlyn's, resting on the bar. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, watched her pupils dilate. He couldn't stand any more of this extended foreplay. He was so hard and full it hurt.

"How about we leave here and go back to my place for a drink?” he suggested. “I've got some of that amber ale..."

She looked at him, and he could see from the sparkle in her eye that she wanted to come home with him.

"Your place?” she asked.

"Shit.” He hesitated. “I forgot. We can't go to my place. My kitchen is being renovated, so I've been staying with my brother. We definitely can't go there."

"Oh.” Ashlyn still gazed at him. Heat smoldered in her eyes, and her teeth sank into her lush lower lip. He waited for her to offer her own place. “Well, I guess we could go to my place.” She licked her lips again.

"Great,” he said with relief. He leaned closer and brushed a kiss across her lips. “You are so sweet,” he whispered. Then he gave a hoarse laugh. “I can't believe this."

"What?” Her eyes were huge in her small face.

"Meeting you like this. You're my dream girl.” He reached out and toyed with a strand of her hair, rubbing the golden silk between his fingers.

Ashlyn blushed, smiled and shook her head.

"Seriously,” he insisted. He pulled his wallet out and tossed some bills onto the bar to cover both their tabs. She was still leaning towards him, so he kissed her again. This time his mouth lingered on hers, his tongue sliding softly along her bottom lip. She opened for him invitingly, and he slanted his mouth across hers. His tongue licked inside her mouth as he cupped his hand on her cheek.

"Wow,” he said when he drew back a moment later, his breath choppy. He met her gaze again and saw that her eyes were darker with arousal, too. Her hand came up to cover his on her face, and then she turned her mouth into his palm and pressed a kiss there. That undid him. “Christ,” he groaned. “Let's go.” He slid off the stool as she picked up her purse and, holding it under one arm, followed him out of the bar.

Out on the street, they paused. The bar was in a busy nightlife area in Rocky Harbor, California, so traffic filled the streets while people lined the well-lit sidewalks. A cool breeze off the ocean drifted over them.

"So where do you live, Blondie?” Zach put his hands on her waist and faced her. She smiled and gave him the address. He nodded.

"My car is around the corner,” she said. “How about you?"

"In the parking lot over there, but I'll walk you to your car."

She shook her head. “That's okay,” she murmured. “There are lots of people around.” They stood there, looking at each other, sexual tension snapping between them. The urgent hunger he felt for her made him lean down for another kiss. This time, standing face to face rather than sitting on barstools, he could put his arms around her and pull her against him. God, she felt good in his arms, all warm and soft, her curves fitting his harder body perfectly, her fresh fruity scent filling his head. He kissed her, a long, deep, swallowing kiss, open-mouthed, tongues sliding, body pressed to body. Everything inside him drew up tighter until he thought he was going to combust right there on the sidewalk. He pulled back to stare at her. Ashlyn, too, was breathing in shallow pants, her eyes drownin-me liquid and hot.

She touched his cheek. “I'll meet you at my place."

Zach nodded, brushed his mouth over hers again, and then smiled as she slowly, almost dreamily moved away from him. He watched her walk down the street and around the corner.

And that was the last he saw of her.