Free BlackJack (A Standish Bay Romance Book 1) by Christine Donovan Page B

bartender
appeared middle-aged, of average height, bald as a cue ball and he didn’t give
Cole a second glance as he dragged over a bowl of bar mix. He placed his drink
on a cocktail napkin and went back to fixing drinks and drafts for the other
customers.
    Cole
absentmindedly munched on the snack as he stared into his glass. Before the
woman slipped onto the stool next to him, he’d almost gagged at her
overpowering smell. Hadn’t she ever heard of subtle perfume? That was twice
tonight he was bombarded by strong perfume. Only after she ordered a drink and
didn’t make a move to vacate the bar stool, did Cole turn his head and look at
her. Early twenties, dressed provocatively in tight, low slung jeans and a
clingy sweater that didn’t quite reach the top of her waistband. Someone would
have to be blind not to notice her cleavage spilling out the top of what Cole
was certain would be a miracle bra helping them along. She was quite pretty
with short dark hair, dark eyes and mocha skin. What some would call an exotic beauty?
    “I don’t mean
to bother you,” she said with a sexy southern drawl, “but I wanted to tell you
I saw your concert tonight and had a blast. My friends and I love your music
and were thrilled when New Jersey was one of your tour stops.”
    Cole turned and
peered over his shoulder to her table of friends. There were two men, one
black, one white and two women, both white. He glanced at the woman beside him
and wondered how she’d been elected to approach him, and he noticed for the
first time, her hands shook with nerves, which made him smile at her. “Thank
you.”
    “My friends and
I are students at NYU, we’re broke most of the time, but we scraped up for your
concert. There was no way we were going to miss it.”
    Cole couldn’t
help but warm up to her. “I appreciate it. Can I buy your table a round of
drinks as thanks?”
    She seemed
surprised by his offer. “Um, that’s not necessary, Mr. Jackson.”
    Cole chuckled. Someone
raised this girl properly. “It’s Cole.”
    Blushing and
smiling shyly, she said, “Cole.”
    He signaled the
bartender. Fished a crisp hundred dollar bill out of his pocket and plopped it
on the bar. “Keeps the drinks flowing for the lady and her friends.”
    He slid off the
stool, touched the brim of his hat and smiled at the young woman. “Goodnight.”
    Cole left the
bar and went to his room to order room service and a movie. The movie played
before his eyes, but none of it registered. His mind was back on Ward. Several
years after he’d been in prison a sex scandal had emerged between Ward and a
volunteer for his campaign. He may have won the reelection the year he was
convicted, but his career ended with a resignation. What did he want from him?
There had to be something?
    Hoping to take
his mind off Ward, he began thinking about the beautiful Shannon Gallagher. He
knew little about her, about her past and what she did on a daily basis. Yet his
whole being craved to know everything there was to know about her.
    He wanted to
know what her favorite food, drink or movie was? Did his music rate way up with
the best of them like Aerosmith, Pink Floyd, U2, and The Rolling Stones? Hell,
he sighed, there were so many great rock-n-rollers where did the list end and
where did he fall?
    Cole wanted to
hear about her writing. What inspired her? Who inspired her, and when did the
need to write hit her? Jesus, he wanted to know everything. Why the hell hadn’t
he gotten her phone number before he left Boston? And then he remembered her
ex-husband John. He didn’t blame John for not wanting Cameron near him, but
Christ, the kid had talent and Cole wanted to help him.
    There was no
doubt in his mind the kid would make it big all on his own someday, but Cole
had connections to smooth the way for him. He’d never had the opportunity to
help anyone in such a capacity before, and he desperately wanted to do it for Cameron
now.
    His last
thought before sleep took over