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“What can I get you?”

My eyes shifted to the waitress so I could order my stiff drink, but instead I paused, turned absolutely still as I looked at the woman that just spoke to me. Must have been three seconds but it felt like a minute. With long, deep auburn brown hair and a long sleeve, low cut top, her fair skin had a distinct glow, and her eyes had a sparkle that reminded me of the lights from the Eiffel Tower. “Scotch, on the rocks. Make it a double.”

“You got it.” She immediately grabbed the bottle and got to work.

I continued to invade her space with my stare, look at her without the need to blink, completely drawn to a stranger like she was a long-lost lover. Paris was a feast of beautiful women, but it was rare for any of them to capture my focus the way she did, especially when I was still mad as hell. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was exactly—her confidence, her posture, or the fact she was just fucking stunning.

She placed the drink on the counter. “Let me know if you need another. I’ll be around.” She immediately turned around to move to the other side of the bar, dismissing me like I was like any other person sitting in the bar that night. Didn’t flirt with me because she was interested—or because she wanted a tip.

I brought the drink to my lips as my eyes dropped down to her plump ass in those skin-tight jeans. “Fuck."