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Should I assume you’re provoking me on purpose?”
    She wet her lips. “Is that what I’m doing?”
    The need to kiss her inundated him, but he wouldn’t give in to it until she asked. Derek rubbed the pad of his thumb across her plump bottom lip, pleased when she inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away. “Let me be clear, Ginger, since you insist on talking in circles. I want you underneath me in my bed. I want to be buried inside you so deep that I have to remind you of your own name. And I want those motherfuckers leering at you from the other side of the bar to smell me on you for a week afterward.”
    Her eyes widened with each declaration. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.
    “I just wanted to be up-front. Good night, Ginger.”
    Forcing himself to remove his hand and step back lest he push her too far too soon, Derek turned and descended the stairs to suffer alone in his apartment.

Chapter Six
    Ginger set two bottles of light beer on the bar, smiling playfully up at the stocky grad student in a backward Bulls hat. Without taking her eyes off him, she swayed to the cash register and made change for his twenty-dollar bill. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, sugar?”
    “No, but I’d love to kiss you with it.”
    Not a chance in hell, but if you leave me a nice tip, I’ll let you think it’s a possibility.
    Ginger set his change on the bar and laughed. “Now, there’s an offer I might consider.”
    His slightly drunker friend nudged him with an elbow and raised his eyebrows, clearly approving of Backward Hat’s boldness. Ginger cringed. Not that they didn’t appear to be fine, upstanding young men, but tomorrow they’d wake up with hangovers and either be embarrassed or have forgotten this whole exchange. Or maybe they’d take their girlfriends shopping at the mall, winking at each other when tonight came up in conversation.
    “Can I get your number?”
    She pulled a sad face. “Sorry, darlin’. I can’t give my number out while I’m working. But if you give me yours, I just might decide to use it.”
    Backward Hat high-fived his friend like Ginger wasn’t standing three feet away, then grabbed a napkin from the plastic holder. He drunkenly scrawled his name and number on one side and slid it across the bar. Matt. She stuffed it in her back pocket along with the two other napkins with numbers on them she’d been given tonight. They’d be perfect for her current project. A decoupage trash can decorated with men’s phone numbers. Symbolic.
    Backward Hat Matt. Kind of a rat. Since we’ve been chatting, your beer has gone flat.
    “You better call me!” Matt said, picking up his drink and disappearing back into the crowd.
    Ginger sighed and moved on to the next customers. Thankfully, they had vaginas. While shaking their martinis in a silver shaker, she acknowledged her luck in finding this job. Although the night’s tips hadn’t yet been counted, she’d easily pulled in double what she made working in Nashville.
    Sensation stood in a hip part of town with many other bars and nightclubs. With two floors of pumping dance music and three separate bars, college students and young professionals flocked to the establishment every night of the week. Wanting to test her skills, the manager had placed Ginger on the first-floor bar, closest to the entrance where the flow of traffic never ceased, for which she felt grateful. Tonight had been meant as a training shift, but her new coworker Amanda quickly recognized Ginger’s experience and left to work the other side of the bar. The time flew by and the money rolled in.
    Looking up from the martinis she artfully strained into chilled glasses, Ginger smiled at the approaching Amanda. Also in her early twenties, Amanda sported a blond pixie cut that Ginger found daring and perfect for her angular face.
    Her new coworker had to shout over the music to be heard. “Hey! Looks like you got the hang of everything quick!”
    Ginger