“Thank you.” The whisper behind his ear reminded him of where he was. “That guy gives me the creeps.”
Turning his head to the side, Richard spoke over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on the seven-foot bartender hurling the ignorant, scumbag drunk out the door. “No problem. Some men just don’t have any respect for women. Especially when they’re under the influence.”
Wow. He looked down at the hand that wrapped around his wrist. A familiar bolt of electricity shot through his veins. Only one woman ever had that effect on him.
“You sound like a man who knows how to treat a woman, Richard.”
Richard chuckled and turned around. “How did you know my—Kate?”
She placed a finger over his lips. “Shhh. It’s Kitty, remember?” She licked her bottom lip then placed her fingernail between her teeth.
“I thought you were a—”
“Shhh. We’ll talk later in the pond. Right now, I have a crowd to please.” She snaked up and down his leg as her fingers made like a spider and walked up his chest.
Between the whistles and the hooting and hollering, Richard knew no one would hear their conversation. The one time he found a woman he actually wanted to get to know, she turned out to be a liar, and an exotic dancer.
“Why?” He tried to stop her hand from twirling his hair.
“Why did you lie about being a writer?”
“I’m in the middle of a dance here. Can we talk about this later?”
“You know, you don’t have to do this. I can help you become a writer if that’s-”
“Get off the stage, asshole, and let the woman do her thing,” a man shouted.