Power to the Max by Jasmine Haynes Read Free Book Online Page B

edge of the glass.

    Alone once more, the woman’s gaze flashed from table to table, finally coming to rest on the lanky blond minus the wedding ring, whose fingers twisted on the whitened, empty spot. His eyes had fallen on her the moment Angela entered the bar.

    Hmm, Max thought, so she wasn’t going for the Greek God. Perhaps it was the blond’s look of helpless excitement, almost like a puppy first let out of its crate. The woman looked from her watch to the entrance of the bar and back to her glass. Only someone looking for it would have noticed the quick glance she gave Blondie. Max noticed everything, right down to the brief, exultant smile that curved the man’s lips. She also noticed Ladybird, her face to the dancers while her gaze slid to the action two tables away. While the little lady pretended to be fascinated by the dancing sixty-five-year-olds, there was no pulling the wool over Ladybird’s eyes.

    They both knew Angela Rocket had found her next shooting star.

    The waitress came to their table. They didn’t rate personal bartender attention. Max, too busy observing to answer, let Ladybird order the next round. Another cocktail for Ladybird, nothing for Max, which she indicated with a quick shake of her head. Ladybird smiled sweetly and patted Max’s arm. “She’s our designated driver.”

    Max watched on. The game of seduction continued for a little over fifteen minutes. Glance at the watch then the entrance, puff an exasperated sigh, then purse those bow-shaped, red-tinged lips. Who was Angela waiting for? Maybe no one at all. It was probably an act for Blondie’s benefit. Furtive glances, a quick flash of tongue across her already wet-look lips. Ladybird, still seemingly gazing at the dance floor, snorted softly. Angela brought out a compact to freshen the powder on her nose, a supposed sign of her increasing agitation with her no-show date. Ladybird murmured “hah” under her breath while Max stifled a laugh.

    Finally, the stalemate broke. The waitress, wearing a flouncy skirt short enough to show the lower curve of her butt cheeks, brought the woman a drink. Another glass of the same, a good chardonnay perhaps. Blondie tipped his head, looking pathetically hopeful. She tipped hers, smiled, and sampled it. Again, the red lipstick stain on the rim. She licked at a drop of wine that ran down the side.

    Oh my God, if that wasn’t a come-on, Max had never before seen one. Blondie’s eyes widened. He visibly sucked in a breath, then pushed back his chair and approached Angela.

    “Mind if I join you?”

    Max strained to make sure she didn’t miss a word of the exchange.

    Angela indicated the chair opposite. “You bought the drink. Thank you. I suppose you noticed I’ve been stood up.” She didn’t tell him her name. Maybe that came later. After his first come. Pun intended.

    “What kind of idiot would stand up a lady like you?”

    “An idiot who doesn’t have another prayer.”

    They laughed, they talked, then their heads bent together. Max could no longer hear. She could, however, read body language, and this was definitely a pick-up in progress. Angela listened with rapt attention to everything Blondie said. She laughed full-throated, a sound that turned heads. Touching his hand with the briefest of contact, she imbued him with importance. Her eyes never left his face, never strayed to greener pastures, giving him her absolute attention.

    It could have been act. No, it probably was an act. But Blondie fell for it.

    The woman leaned back in her chair, looking once more at her watch. “Half an hour’s more than long enough to wait, don’t you think?” Max heard her clearly this time, as clearly as she heard the invitation in that statement.

    The man fingered his recently ringless left hand. Max couldn’t make out his answer. Angela smiled, leaned in to brush his hand lightly, lingering. Then she drew a long burgundy nail across his knuckles to his wrist.

    He closed his