Forget by N.A. Alcorn Read Free Book Online

California, who weighs . . .” he pauses and peeks up at my reaction. The audacity of this guy has my brow rising.
    “A man who announces a woman’s weight to a group of strangers is known as an asshole where I come from.” I give him a pointed look. “You might be more familiar with the term arsehole. And I bet the queen would be quite upset with your lack of manners.”
    He laughs heartily, handing my I.D. back to me. “You’ve got sass. I like it. Consider your first drink on the house. And seriously, I was just teasing you. I hope I didn’t offend you with the whole I.D. bit.” I can’t help but grin at his adorably guilty smile.
    “If that’s your half-ass form of an apology, I’ll accept. Consider yourself forgiven.”
    “Thank you,” he says dramatically, holding his hand to his heart.
    His eyes hold a frisky edge. The kind of eyes that show this guy isn’t all business, and I’d guess flirtation just comes naturally to his playful personality. He’s probably a few years younger than me, and his body is one that proves he does something to keep his lean frame nice and fit. A few tattoos line his arms, wrists, and even fingers, and the shock of dark hair peeking out from a grey beanie only adds to his appeal.
    Seriously, what’s with all the good-looking English men in Paris?
    “What’ll it be, love?”
    That’s the second “ Love ” I’ve got tossed in my direction. I’m guessing that’s the English equivalent of sweetheart or honey. “I’ve been sent here to try one of your famous Bloody Marys.”
    “You got it.” He busies himself behind the bar, skillful hands mixing my drink.
    I read Lindsay’s latest text.
    ‘Open mic night.’
    ‘No way. That’s ridiculous. And not happening.’
    ‘What about karaoke? I know the coolest karaoke bar in Paris.’
    ‘NO.’
    Lindsay is relentless about everything. That trait was much needed, to help launch her modeling career, but as you can see, it often makes her a pain in my ass.
    ‘What part of Paris is that bar in? Au Fait, right?’
    ‘Canal Saint-Martin. It might be my favorite part of Paris.’
    ‘Very cool area. Chat later? I’m getting ready to board.’
    ‘Definitely. Have a safe flight. Love you, whore.’
    ‘Love you too, hooker.’
    One sip of an Au Fait Bloody Mary, and I’m hooked. Now I know why Millie said it’s the best Bloody Mary I’ll ever taste. I literally moan into my straw.
    “That good?” The bartender asks, his playful eyes smile at me.
    “Am I that obvious?”
    Nodding, he points a finger towards my drink. “The moaning into your drink kind of gave it away.”
    “Damn, I thought I hid it,” I say through a laugh.
    He leans closer, and whispers, “You need to try to hide those moans a little better, love. Every bloke in this pub is turned in your direction, wondering what has the pretty American girl so excited.”
    I blush, it’s unavoidable.
    “I’m Jesse, by the way.” He offers his hand.
    I shake it. “Nice to meet you, Jesse. I’m Brooke, but you already knew that.” Since this isn’t Alexandre, I need to get some damn balls to ask Jesse where I can find the man who has something for me.
    “Brooke, the organ donor from California, who’s five foot three and weighs . . .”
    My finger stabs him in the chest. “Don’t be an arse.”
    He holds both hands up in reaction. “I was going to say, weighs merely a pound or two more than Tinkerbell.”
    I shake my head as my lungs huff out a laugh. “ Sure, I bet that’s exactly what you were going to say.”
    “Please tell me you’re not another woman who worries about her weight. You’ve got nothing to worry about by the way. I could fit you in my pocket and still have room.”
    “Are you flirting with me?” I question with a raised eyebrow. Playful flirting to exchange a few laughs is one thing, but flirting with the intent on getting in my panties is the complete opposite of what I want from my new friend/bartender Jesse. I’m not sure