Avriel Kaplan: Well dressed, well groomed, beautifully handsome, quiet and brooding and exactly the kind of man Ariel Declan doesn't need to know. But, that is not for her to decide.
Alexander Kirk: wickedly handsome, well known and well liked, egot...
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Casually, Avriel watched Ariel move around the bar, taking and filling orders gracefully, smoothly flirting back, when necessary, with a general disinterest that the other party somehow missed. She was very good at her job. He hid his interest in her by only allowing himself small glimpses of her in the mirror behind the bar, but he'd find himself staring. He could not hide what he was feeling, could never completely hide his emotions. He could mask them, but he first had to understand what they were. These emotions he could not hide. He spent the evening watching her when she wasn't watching him and regretting not asking her name. Though he really didn't need to, he knew it.
He had noticed her before but never quite so much as he noticed her the night he looked into her eyes. There was just something about her, about them. Just something in her brilliant deep green eyes, and about her raven hair, something in her that caused an echo of a stir that was pleasant yet frightening to him. So, he watched her. He looked at her whenever she wasn't looking at him. Watched her movements and noted her clothing. It was a game commonly played by two people who were clearly interested in each other but aren't ready to face that attraction. It was a classic game of cat and mouse.
She was a vision, beautiful as always and blissfully oblivious to her own beauty. She was honestly completely unaware. He found the modesty enchanting. That night she had her long dark hair pulled up in a loose bun with the ends of her hair sticking out to form a circle of black spikes all around the base of the bun. She had taken several strands, just a small cluster on either side of center, where her bangs would have been if she had them and pulled them loose from the rest. As a result, two long tendrils curled down on either side of her face.
She wore all black, which he honestly appreciated very much. She seemed to wear it every night. Everyone that worked the club did. He watched her as she filled order after order while he sat, gently sipping his Scotch. She moved with sheer elegance and smiled graciously at each customer as they made and received their requests.
Her black top left her arms exposed. They were smooth and strong. The well-formed muscles were nicely defined. He enjoyed watching them play under her pale skin as she moved. The back of the shirt was open leaving even more of her skin exposed all the way down to the top of her form-fitting black slacks. It left more muscles for him to watch. The black was a strong contrast to her pale skin especially in the light of the club. He couldn't help but watch her and admire the way her clothes fit over her shape. It seemed many sets of eyes did. Everywhere he looked someone was watching her work. It had been a long time since he felt the pull of a woman on any part of him, a long time since he cared enough to look past the make-up and the perfume. She pulled him, all of him.
When a beautiful woman sat down beside him, he set aside his brief annoyance at the interruption and gave her his full attention per usual. At the end of the night, it was clear that he was expected to take the woman home. He politely refused and quietly excused himself from the conversation.
