“Are you Scottish?” I asked.

Those rich, amber irises glowed in the subdued lighting. His smile turned teasing. “What gave me away?”

“Can’t fool a college graduate.” I leaned forward to wrap my hands around the glass of my Hurricane, needing the cool-down. Not that it helped. The iced drink chilled my hands but left the rest of me flushed with a tempting warmth. “You have a kilt and an accent. Even if I were stoned, I could’ve figured that one out.”

He slanted forward a touch, and the light gleamed on his short, light-brown hair, setting off golden highlights. “College graduate, eh? I found an intellectual woman to bide my time with. What was your field of study?”

Ech. This was where I lost a lot of guys. Supposed I could’ve lied, but I preferred to tell the truth, even to a gorgeous stranger from another country. Besides, I wasn’t embarrassed. I didn’t want to scare off a hot prospect, though.

I sat up straight, hands on my thighs. “Computer programming.”

“Ah,” he said, drawing out the single syllable as if he relished the taste of it. “You expect me to be less than impressed.”

“My occupation isn’t the stuff of men’s wet dreams, now is it?”

His throaty chuckle shivered along my skin like a physical touch. “I prefer professional women. And anyway —” He bent toward me, so close his breaths whispered over my lips. “You’ll be featured in all my dreams tonight.”

My throat went thick, my skin tightened. I’d come to New Orleans for excitement and adventure, an escape from my boring life, to shed my corporate skin and let my wild side out to play. Why not flirt with a stranger? Naughty flirting, no less.

Excitement zinged through me, an electric current like nothing I’d experienced in a long, long time. You’re overdue, girl, go for it.

“Tell me,” he said, “what is a beautiful, intelligent woman doing all alone in a bar? You should have a horde of men slavering to do your bidding.”

“I got into town this evening. Haven’t had a chance to drum up a horde.” I wiggled on my seat to angle toward him. Our faces hovered deliciously close, and I pulled in a deep draft of Scot-scented air. Crossing my legs, I lay an arm on the bar while my other hand rested on my thigh. “Would you do my bidding?”

The part of me that conformed to expected behavior winced. The other part of me, the one I kept quiet most of the time out of necessity, thrilled at the prospect of… whatever I was doing with this man.

“Ah, lass,” he purred, fingering a lock of my pale, ash-blonde hair. The lighting had imbued it with an almost ethereal glow. “For you, I’d go down on my knees and do whatever is necessary to make certain you feel nothing but satisfaction.”