One Wild Wedding Night_ No Way Out - Leslie Kelly [3]
“Excuse me,” he said to the bartender.
The guy’s eyes went wide and he slowly lowered the glass he’d been wiping out. “You’re…you’re Stan the Man. ”
“Yeah. Hey, listen, I’m trying to find the owner of this.” He held up the unusual item he’d found in the hotel elevator, grinning as the bartender scrunched his brow. Stan added, “The guy at the front desk said a woman in a red gown just came in here. You happen to know where she is?”
“Sure, Stan.” The bartender pointed to the corner of the room. “Can I have an…”
“You bet.” Stan pulled a pen out of his pocket and scrawled his signature across the paper menu the other man shoved at him. He’d been playing in the NFL for six years and yet he still hadn’t gotten used to that—to people acting like him signing his name on a piece of paper was some huge deal.
He never refused them. He knew how quickly all of it—the fame, the money, the magazine covers, the major deals—could be yanked away with one bad season or one blown knee. He’d learned that lesson very early on and it had stuck. Hard.
Nodding at a few people who lifted their glasses in silent salute, he made his way through the bar. Chicago was a friendly place…even to members of a rival team. He got several offers of free beer and a few more requests for autographs.
He stopped for every one.
He also got suggestive looks from several of the women in the place, some without men by their side. Some with.
He ignored all of them, focused only on the woman he’d come in here to find. The one who’d left something behind in the elevator.
As he neared the table in the corner, Stan took note of the mysterious woman in red. Sister was tall…no doubt about that, sitting higher in her seat than any other female in the place, shoulders straight, head held up. For a second, he felt a flash of trepidation—as if she might actually be too much woman for him. He hadn’t felt that way about anyone in a very long time.
He liked his own reaction. It was different…and in these jaded days, different was a good thing.
The stranger’s soft, curly black hair was cropped close to her head, emphasizing the perfectly shaped face and the incredible bone structure. She looked regal, from the high forehead to the huge brown eyes framed by thick lashes on down to her jutting chin.
And that mouth…Lord have mercy, was it made for sinning.
Feeling better about his decision to find her with every step he made, Stan smiled. He’d come in here on a gentlemanly errand and was very glad he’d given in to the impulse. Having found a woman’s wickedly sexy red shoe in the elevator, he’d tried turning it in at the front desk, only to be told the owner might well be in here. The guy had said a tall, beautiful woman in a red gown had just entered and speculated the shoe could be hers. Refusing the clerk’s offer to take it, Stan had sought her out himself, wanting to see the owner, wondering if she was as hot as her footwear.
She wasn’t just hot, the lady was on fire.
Finally reaching the table, he met her stare directly, liking that she made no effort to look away.
“Excuse me,” he said with a smile, the same one women had swooned over in the Jockey commercial he’d done last year. “Does this belong to you?”
He reached into his pocket and drew out the spiky heeled sandal, holding it toward her. He waited for her to lick her lips, thank him, smile, ask him to sit down.
What he absolutely did not expect was the reaction he got.
“What do I look like to you, Cinder-freakin’-ella?” She stood up, thrusting an index finger toward his chest. “’Cause you sure ain’t no Prince Charming.”
His jaw falling open, Stan dropped the shoe. It bounced on the floor, landing beside the hem of the angry woman’s red dress. He didn’t even bend over to pick it up—she looked ready to bash him in the head.
“Okay,” he said, holding his hands up, palms out. “No harm, no foul.” As he started to back away, he scanned her