Any Way You Want It Read Online Free Page B

face, making her features stunningly lovely. There was a part of Maggie that wished she could be like that. A flirt. Comfortable with the opposite sex. She never had been though. Not until Peter—and well, that hadn’t worked out well, had it?
    Maggie glanced toward the stage, telling herself she wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, even as she searched for long hair and intense eyes. She promptly assured herself that it wasn’t disappointment she felt when she couldn’t locate them.
    Her gaze moved back to her friends. Jo and her new friend had joined Erika and her guy. They all danced and laughed.
    Again Maggie smiled. Okay, maybe this time a touch of envy tightened her chest.
    “Are you having fun?”
    Maggie started, literally jerking in her seat at the voice so near her. Strange, that she could be so startled when the bar was already loud.
    Then she saw who spoke to her. The musician. The one with the strange eyes. Now, close up, she could also add a great smile to his description. White teeth with the corners of his lips curled slightly, giving his grin a Cheshire-cat quality. And she’d been right, his speaking voice was indeed husky, like the rich, warm brush of heated velvet.
    “Umm, yeah,” she managed to say, trying not to stare at his mouth. But when she moved her gaze, she was staring into his eyes, and that made her uncomfortable too. She opted to look at the button of his shirt. Except just above that button was a V of bare chest covered in faint whorls of dark chest hair.
    She looked down at her hands.
    “Can I get you a drink?”
    She glanced up at him, half expecting that he was talking to someone else now, but his eyes were still locked on her. In the blue and red light cast by the neon beer signs behind the bar, the eyelashes of his left eye looked faintly purple. She blinked, sure she was seeing things. Either that or the wine from dinner hadn’t worn off as much as she’d thought.
    “No, thank you,” she finally said, her gaze returning to the buttons of his shirt, the one below the top one, so she couldn’t see the chest.
    “Stacy,” he called, gesturing to the bartender with the braids springing out of her head. Once he caught her attention, he nodded. She nodded back and bounced away. Apparently her braids really were antennae; he didn’t even have to speak to communicate with her.
    “Are you visiting here?”
    Maggie blinked up at him. Was he still talking to her? Surely her inability to speak had bored him by now.
    “Yes. From Washington, D.C.”
    He looked impressed. Then he tilted his head slightly as if he was studying her. The pose made his hair fall forward, framing his face.
    Maggie had never been crazy about long-haired men. She never thought about it either way, really, but there was something breathtakingly beautiful about the contrast of his long, silky hair and the masculine line of his jaw. Her fingers twitched as the sudden urge to touch the shiny length jolted through her.
    Oh yeah, the wine was still in her system. No doubt about it.
    The bartender appeared with a bottle of something. “Here you go,” she said with a wide smile, then bounded away to take another patron’s order.
    Ah, Maggie realized, he’d just been making small talk while he waited for his drink.
    “It’s loud in here,” he said as he leaned forward, reaching past her to grab the bottle. She could feel him as if he’d brushed against her. His body seemed to fill the space between them—even though he didn’t come close to touching her.
    She nodded, taking in a steadying breath. Why did this guy have her so shaken? He wasn’t flirting. He was just chatting. Why did she feel so flustered? Why couldn’t she play it cool like her friends did? After all, this guy was not feeling the same vibe she was. No way.
    “Maybe you’d want to—”
    The musician’s question was cut off as one of the other band members, a heavyset guy with very short hair and a black AC/DC T-shirt, came over