Free Sins of My Father (Black Brothers #1) by Lisa Cardiff

guys that frequent this place.”
    Casually, I glanced to the side, down the length of the bar. Slicked back hair, jeans tighter than my tightest pair, thighs smaller than mine, and skintight shirts were just a few glaring things that had my gag reflex on high alert. Call me a throwback to fifties, but I liked real men—muscles and testosterone included—not men that shared my jean size and cried at chick flicks. “I see what you mean.”
    “White wine?” she asked when the bartender paused in front of us, his hands on his hips.
    “No. I need something stronger. Grey Goose on the rocks with a twist of lime.”
    “Make it two,” Winnie said, and then she swiveled on her stool to face me. “So are you nervous to see Archer?”
    I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs. “A little. I had written him off and then he called. I don’t know what to expect.”
    “Don’t expect anything. It’s better for the ego.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said as I lifted the lowball glass to my lips.
    Not two minutes later, two warm hands landed on my shoulders.
    “I didn’t know if you really meant for me to meet you at nine at The Nine Bar. If so, I’m a couple hours early.”
    “Archer,” I said, glancing at him over my shoulder. Like the night I met him, his six foot two body was dressed in a dark, custom fit suit that emphasized his lean muscled body. My heart ricocheted off the walls of my chest, and my stomach freefell through my adnominal cavity. I willed my body to remain unaffected and calm, but the winged creatures in my stomach refused to be tamed. This man did crazy things to me.
    “Langley,” he responded, his heated dark stare melting me in a pile of mush. He held my eyes for a moment. Electricity ping-ponged in the air around us, buzzing like cicadas in late summer. Kiss me, my stupid, love-struck alter ego silently begged. His lips curved into a half smile, and any lingering reservations about Archer sunk faster than the Titanic.
    Like a moon succumbing to the gravitational pull of a planet, my body tilted toward his. My eyes fluttered. My lips tingled, imagining the moment of impact.
    Closer.
    Closer.
    So close, I saw the gold specks in his irises.
    Then, bam…Winnie cleared her throat. I shook my head, dislodging the Archer-induced fog filling my brain.
    “Winnie, this is Archer,” I said, blood rushing to my face. Thank God the bar was dimly lit.
    “Nice to meet you.” Archer shook her hand.
    “Just one friend?” Archer asked, refocusing his mind-wilting attention on me.
    “I thought I’d go easy on you.” I shrugged. “Besides, I didn’t want to promise an army of friends free drinks and dinner if you didn’t show.”
    “I told you I’d find you.” He squeezed my shoulders and then dropped his hands to his sides.
    “You did, but you also said we’d go to lunch this week.” I should have let the topic die a fiery death. After all, he found me, and I owed him a second chance. Hell, I wanted to give him a second chance. How could I refuse him when my body lit up like I had fireflies in my veins anytime I got within five feet of him or his silky voice?
    He leaned forward and brushed my hair to the side. “The last time I looked at a calendar, a week consisted of seven days.”
    “Yeah. So?” I tensed my muscles to stave off the shiver that rolled through my body as his warm breath wafted over the microscopic hairs on my neck. It didn’t work. Evidently, controlling involuntary body reactions was impossible.
    “So, will you join me for lunch tomorrow?” he whispered.
    With his lips a pesky inch from my ear, I nodded like a star struck groupie drinking in his mesmeric essence. Eyes wide. Mouth parted. Cheeks flushed. Pathetic.
    “Good. So do you want to stay for another drink or go to dinner?” Archer asked. He propped his foot on the bottom rung of my barstool and the fabric of his pants brushed against my bare leg.
    “Is something wrong with this place?” Winnie asked,