Free One to Keep (One to Hold) by Tia Louise Page A

cougars after Stacy, and they were all crazy in the sack. They were experienced, confident, and usually not looking for anything long-term. Naturally, I felt a stirring down below, but I wasn’t getting sidetracked. My dick might be awake, but he was taking the backseat on this trip. I nodded and lifted the tumbler mouthing a thank you.
    She slid off that stool and headed in my direction. Shit. The filmy black dress she wore moved over her slim hips like smoky sex. Yep, a challenge.
    “Hey, handsome,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Barbara.”
    “Patrick.” I gave it a squeeze, and she leaned against the bar in front of me.
    Up close, she was even prettier. High cheekbones, bright hazel eyes with faint lines in the corners, and the sharp features that came with maturity. The little guy below was shooting all kinds of messages to my brain, but I was ignoring them.
    “Are you here for the banker’s conference?” Barbara signaled the bartender before turning back to me.
    “As a matter of fact I am. You?”
    She shook her head before ordering a glass of Chardonnay. “My youngest daughter’s getting married tomorrow. I’m just in for the night.” Following an obvious glance at my left hand, she gave me a wink before continuing. “Any plans for this evening, Patrick?”
    Trust me, I’d already checked for rings on her fingers as well—burn me once—but none of that mattered. “Just finishing my drink here—thanks again—then headed up.”
    “Alone? Haven’t you heard the expression, ‘All work and no play’?” She made a pretend-scolding face before the smile returned. Her hazel eyes sparkled, a cool ivory hand slipped that almost-red hair off her shoulder. It was a very nice shoulder.
    Yes, sometimes it was just that easy, dammit. “I’ve been living by it. In reverse. Now I’ve got to make amends.”
    “And how are you planning to do that?”
    It took all my will-power to say it. “All work and all work. And my timing feels particularly shitty at this moment.”
    “I’ll say. Are you sure you won’t make an exception?”
    “I can’t believe I’m saying no.” Standing, I signaled the bartender and then passed over two bills. “For this and whatever else she’d like.”
    Then I squeezed her arm gently, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “I’m willing to bet you’ll be prettier than the bride tomorrow,” I whispered next to her ear.
    She shook her head, but I knew I was leaving her happy—no harm, no foul, my resolve intact. And now I was headed back to my room, pissed off dick and all.
    One of the best parts of being sent to Scottsdale was all the beautiful women on relaxing spa vacations, but I steeled myself. I had to redeem my reputation with Derek and by extension Stuart. I didn’t want to hear any big-brother bullshit about how I’d screwed up a gig he’d dropped in my lap, or how I’d lost my girl and lost my edge. I’d done great work handling the Alliance case, and I was following it up with more great work. When I returned from this trip, I intended to be too valuable to lose.
    * * *
    Two nights down, and two highly productive mornings were under my belt. I’d landed analysis meetings with five financiers once we got back, two of which were big-wig corporate-banking types, and I’d picked up cards from five more I’d touch base with post-con. I was moving back to the top of my game. The Closer, getting it done.
    Derek texted last night. We were meeting for a recon in the fitness center before lunch. I was freaking walking on air and feeling more in control than ever. My confidence was even restored about handling the Star situation. A week of distance, a return to normal office behavior, and we could put what happened behind us. Or work out a financial settlement.
    The same was not true of my senior partner. I didn’t know what, but something was off with him. For starters, he hadn’t overloaded the bench press bar. He didn’t even seem to be paying