A/N Thank you so much for the response so far. I hope you like what I have to come.

A special thank you to MissAlex, my fantablous beta and friend, and also my pre-readers, KlrTwiLuver and Lemonmartinis. All these ladies are my backbone and I love you!

KlrTwiLuver also has a new fic called Sugar Daddy posted under The Bond Girls profile, already hot stuff, check it out!

I don't own Twilight, but this is a 75% True Romance ;)

Chapter 2

The haze of cigarette smoke hung low in the stale air around the dangling ceiling lights, old crusty men laughed in hearty baritones from their perches on well-worn barstools, the smell of heavy grease wafted in from the cramped kitchen toward the back of the bar, and music from the jukebox played Charlie Daniels. This was my Friday night. What I wouldn't have given for a swank and trendy martini lounge right about now.

Clearing my throat, I dangled the ball rack on my index finger. "Rack 'em, Jake."

Jake shook his head. "Nope, not until you tell me you're sorry." He crossed his meaty arms over his chest, pouting.

What a baby!

I sighed. "I'm not going to tell you I'm sorry. It's part of your job. You know, entertaining people." I leaned against the pool table, tapping my nails on the wooden edge. He had been a grumpy asshole since he made me pick him up this evening, informing me previously of my DD status. Of course, I placated him because I did feel bad about the pumpkin costume thing.

After the remote this morning at the corn maze, Jake couldn't get out of the costume quick enough. Except he couldn't; the zipper broke. He called from the news van on the way back, panicking. I refused to let Ben, his cameraman, cut him out of it since I would be out fifty bucks. So Jake had to walk through the crowded afternoon newsroom dressed as a pumpkin in order to get to wardrobe.

I might have laughed…a lot.

He was not amused, hence my punishment of being appointed DD tonight.

"Entertaining people, yes, but embarrassing myself, no. You need to talk to Mike about toning down the wacky factor of the show and showing off this gun show." Jake kissed both of his bulbous biceps.

I winced. "I didn't need to see that."

Jake placed both his hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes sincerely. I almost could see him forming a rational thought before he blurted, "How do you think I'm going to get laid tonight, Bella?"

"Is that the only reason you do your job? To get laid?" I was disgusted. I knew he was joking, but still.

A cocky grin started to form across his lips and he moved an inch too close in my personal space.

"Nuh huh huh!" I backed up, my ass hitting the edge of the pool table as he moved closer, caging me in with his tree trunk arms. "Don't even think about it."

"Come on, B," Jake licked his lips, his eyes roaming over my face and then southbound to my chest. "You, me…it only takes one night and you'll change your tune on inner-office fraternization. I've seen the way you look at me."

I pushed him roughly, but playfully, against his chest. "I look at you because I'm not dead; you are fine." Jake tried to step back to me with a renewed hunger, but I held up my finger to him."Then I remember what an ass you are and the illusion is gone." I waved a hand in the air. "Poof."

"Poof?"

"Yep, all gone." I laughed. "Completely bone dry down in Hoohaville." Jake waggled his eyebrows. "I have methods that are proven to create monsoons in said Hoohavilles, just ask the new intern we have."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear you refer to fucking an intern." I pushed him away again.

"She's so eager to please, though. I couldn't resist."

"Don't you have hordes of other women you don't work with that you can seduce?"

Jake scoffed. "Not after The Great Pumpkin Caper this morning. Now, I'm going to have to work for it."

I patted Jake's cheek. "Oh, poor baby, having to actually work to get into some chick's pants is really going to kink your style.

He pouted. "It is, you just don't understand, Bella."

"Oh, really? When was the last time you had to work for it?"

He didn't even have to think about it.

"Never," he said. Then he leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Unless you count yourself, but I see you has a challenge, well worth the work."

I mocked slapped him. "You're a dog, you know that?"

Jake fake stumbled backward, laughing louder and avoiding any bodily harm as he took the ball rack from my hands. "You are aware that dog spelled backward is GOD?"

I threw my hands up. "Ugh! You're also a boob which spelled backward is still boob." I turned away from him.

"Bella, you're well aware we're exactly the same. You just don't broadcast the fact you sleep around as much as I do."

"I'm totally different from you."

Jake's eyes narrowed. "When was the last time you saw the same dude twice?"

He got me there.

"Shut up."

"You love me," Jake teased.

"I loathe you," I groaned over my shoulder. "I'm getting a drink and some space. Have the game set up by the time I get back."

I didn't like thinking that Jake and I were on the same playing field. Equals. It bothered me more than I wanted it too. The only thing different about the two of us was that Jake was proud while I was ashamed. I would never admit it though. I loved sex. That wasn't a crime. I was a modern woman in a modern world. There was no reason I couldn't have a healthy non-monogamous sexual lifestyle. However, even though I loved sex, and kept telling myself that I did and it was okay to fuck any guy or the occasional girl, I felt empty. I was scared of love and losing myself in someone so much that I forgot who I was and where me and the other person stopped and started. I'd seen it happen to Gianna. I wasn't going to let it happen to me.

"Sam Adams, please." Jake shouted after me with a toothy grin. I rolled my eyes but nodded as I walked away.

Love wasn't an option; I didn't want it to be.

River City Bar wasn't crowed for a Friday night as usual. Yet for some reason, the place was a favorite of Jake's. We came here about four times a month. Even though Jake lived on Washington Ave. where all the trendiest clubs were, he hated them. He would tell me simply, "River City is the salt of the earth, Bella, salt of the earth." I would tell him in return it was a shithole. And it was. The south city establishment was very small with only five tables scattered throughout the room. Two ratty pool tables lined one wall, while a multitude ofcork dart boards occupied the other. The bar itself was manned by the owner, Liam McCarty, an Irish transplant that started the bar in the late 1960s. He owned the four story building and lived upstairs by himself in one of the two apartments.

He was certainly not a bartender by any only beers on tap were Budweiser, Busch, and Guiness. Liam laughed if you ordered anything that didn't have Johnny Walker, Jack Daniels, or Jim Beam as one of the main ingredients because he wouldn't know how to make anything else that didn't have them in it. There was a sign above the till that affectionately said, "The Three Wise Men or Nothing At All."

Liam was crotchety at best and he called all women "girlie",but I couldn't help but think he had a soft side to his brute-like demeanor. If I looked carefully, hidden on the other side of the till was a picture of a beautiful red-haired woman. The photo looked to be at least twenty years old. A rosary had been draped over one side of the frame in memorial. If asked who she was, Liam eyes would soften before he coughed away the emotion; never answering. The only other person he was close to was his grandson, Emmett, who worked the kitchen on the weekends. Emmett was a very large, muscular man with a shaved head and the same dimples as his grandfather. He didn't speak much. He always kept to himself, never engaging in anything other than the occasional song on the jukebox. Too bad, he was hot.

"What'll you have, girlie?" Liam grunted with his raspy smoker's voice.

"A Sam Adams bottle and a Jack and Diet Coke, please." I grinned and rocked on my heels, holding onto the bar.

Liam smiled slightly, his dimple cratering deep in his cheek. "Comin' up." He then shouted over his shoulder toward the kitchen. "Emmett! Brin' me up some Adams from the cellar." Liam looked back at me. "Be but a tick, girlie," he told me. His accent, although light, was still there.

I thanked Liam and slid a ten and two ones across the bar. Emmett came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a towel. He looked at me for a moment and blinked once. I smiled and offered a small wave. He looked over my shoulder then back to me before something crossed over his face like disappointment or maybe annoyance. He didn't return the smile or eye contact as he opened the cellar hatch door behind the bar and disappeared down the stairs into the darkness below.

I looked down at myself to make sure I didn't have any buttons undone or ketchup on my shirt. He never really looked at me before, but now that he had, it unnerved me. "What was that about?" I whispered to myself as I fiddled with a napkin set out by Liam.

"He's moody," someone replied behind me. I jumped; startled by the fact that not only was my question answered, but the husky deep voice that answered made my insides tremble with something I wasn't quite sure about. Lust, maybe?

"Excuse me?" I turned around to see a strikingly handsome man standing a foot away.

The man smirked. "He's a crabby bitch, but he's cool."

"You know him, I take it?" I asked dumbly. Of course he knew him, duh.

The man smiled and pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his hand. "We went to college together at Wash U." He lit the cig with a silver Zippo he plucked from his back pocket. He inhaled deeply, forcing the smoke out of his nose as he continued, "We were in a band."

"Oh."

"How do you know Emmett?" the man asked. He sat down on a one of the ripped vinyl barstools. I followed suit without even thinking about it. The allure of this man already had me. He was incredibly attractive and looking altogether too sexy smoking that cigarette.

"I don't really. I come here sometimes with my friend over there." I pointed toward the pool table Jake had racked the balls on. He was talking very closely to a brunette.

The man swiveled around on his stool and leaned his elbows back on the bar, his smoke hanging from his lips. "Boyfriend?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Most certainly not. He's a co-worker." Liam came back and placed my drink down. I thanked him again and took a sip. The man placed his order of Jack Daniels straight up and looked back at me.

"He's a moron for not being over her with you. You're the most beautiful woman in here." The man grinned with desire in his eyes. I felt a chill run up my spine.

"Thanks," I said coyly, taking his compliment.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm just stating facts."He ashed his cigarette into a nearby tray.

"Really? Because it sounded like a line," I joked.

"A line?A line?" The man feigned offence, holding his heart. "You hurt me, woman. I'm a man who prides himself in never having to resort to pick-up lines. If I really wanted to use one I would say, 'Excuse me, can you empty your pockets? I believe you have stolen my heart' or 'I'm not drunk, I'm intoxicated by you.'"

I giggled.

The man continued. "How about this one, 'I never had a dream come true until the day I met you' or my favorite, 'Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?'"

We bent over laughing, holding our stomachs. "My brother gave me a pocket pick-up line book for my sixteenth birthday," he said. "I read it inside and out. Let me tell you, none of them worked."

My laughter dying down, I wiped the tears from my eyes. "That last one might have worked, just so you know, but sexiness is just my part-time job."

Still smiling, the gorgeous stranger asked, "What is it that you do that only affords you to work the sexiness part-time?"

This was the part of the conversation I hated when I was getting to know someone. When I generally told anyone that I was a TV producer for the leading news station in the city, they either were so impressed and asked a shitload of mundane questions or wanted the dirt on the news personalities.

I warily said, "I'm a news producer at channel five."

"I don't watch TV much. I bet it's fun to work in a newsroom."

"I like it," I said humbly, taking a sip. The whisky was heavy in my drink.

The man grinned. "As long as you like it, that's the important thing."

"Right. So, what do you do?"

He thought for a long minute. "I guess you can say I'm an artist." He took a drink.

"That's so interesting. What's your medium?"

"Um…I weld and sculpt erotica."

I felt my mouth unhinge. "Erotica, no kidding."

He appraised my reaction and smiled. "Have you ever heard of the Museum of Sex in New York City?"

I nodded.

"I have a couple of pieces displayed there. Mostly, I sell to private parties or I'm commissioned outright."

"Wow…As long as you like what you do, huh?"

The man snickered. "You can say that."

Our talk lulled a bit. He sipped his drink some more and looked around the room while I was thinking of him molding and creating erotic art with his skilled hands. Bending metal and moving clay into provocative arrangements of body parts or sexual positions…

I was starting to get warm.

"He seems to making friends with Maria, pretty well," the man observed.

"What?"

"Your friend over there," he pointed toward Jake and the brunette, "Jack?"

"Jake," I corrected.

I swiveled in my seat, taking another look at Jake and the brunette. "Know her?"

The man nodded. "She brought me here. I'm staying at her place this week. We just came from a dinner party tonight. She was my moral support since there were some people not so happy to see me there."

The way he said Maria made me shiver. There was something to him and Maria, so I asked, "Girlfriend?"

The man chuckled, his eyes hooded as he stared back at me. "Sometimes," was all he said. And that was enough to tell me that we were much alike: Not a fan of strings. Perfect.

I gave him the once over again when he looked away, scoping out his butt. He was beautiful. His physique was perfect. He had to work out. He wore tight boot-cut , washed-out jeans with a huge, shiny silver belt buckle in the center of his waist, a faded Black Flag T-shirt hugged his firm-looking chest, and he wore dusty brown cowboy boots. His forearms both were inked and he wore a leather-studded wrist cuff. He looked like a cross between rock-a-billy and cowboy chic. Very yummy.

I immediately thought of my appearance and compared it to Maria's across the room. She had long wavy dark hair, the front pulled up like a pin up. Her shirt was long-sleeved with black and white stripes, tight against her ample breasts. Cinching her small waist was a blue patent leather belt and she wore bright red skinny jeans with black pumps. Where do you even get red jeans? Basically, she looked like a vixen off the pages of a 1950s Playboy magazine.

I, on the other hand, didn't give a shit what I wore tonight, considering I was going to be with Jake. So I wore my old ripped and faded Levi's, that I stole from a guy years ago, a white cotton button-down shirt that I knotted at the wait, and a pair of Bedazzled Converse my mom made me. Next to Maria, I looked twelve and virginal.

I groaned inwardly and took a big gulp of my drink.

Emmett finally appeared from the cellar carrying a case of Sam Adams on his shoulder. He latched the door with his foot and set the case of beer on the bar.

"Dude." He nodded toward the man sitting next to me who turned around and nodded back.

"Em, how ya been?"

Emmett didn't acknowledge his question and stole a glance over at the pool tables. I followed his line of sight and found that he was looking at Jake and Maria.

"Why did you bring her here?" Emmett asked gruffly.

The man rolled his eyes and sighed. "It's just a drink, Em."

"Her idea or yours?"

"Does it look like her idea?" The man gestured over to Jake, who had his hand on Maria's ass. Wasn't Jake just complaining that he was going to have to work for it earlier? Maria looked like a sure bet. "I'm staying with her, I drove tonight; she didn't have a choice. I wanted to see you. Say hello."

"Hello." With that, Emmett turned and went back into the kitchen.

"Fuck," the man hissed under his breath.

I felt like I just intruded on a very serious conversation I knew nothing about. This was very awkward.

"I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

The man rubbed the back of his neck as he turned back to me. "Don't be. I told you he's a moody, crabby bitch. So, what's your name?"

I swallowed another sip before telling him, "Bella."

The man's eyebrows almost touched his hairline. "Bella, huh? You know that means…"

I stopped him before he could go further. I'd been down this road before and I'd heard all the pick-up lines from men educated enough to know what Bella meant in Italian.

"Beautiful, yep, I know what it means," I clipped. "Pick-up lines, remember?"

The man shook his head, with a snort. "I was going to say, that means it's short for Isabella, right? But I take it you heard the beautiful thing a lot."

I felt my face redden with embarrassment. "Yeah, more than I can count. My mom is Italian of decent and named me and my sister Italian names. Mine means beautiful and my sister… her name meant gracious God.

The man looked pensive. Instantly, I dropped my eyes. Fuck…I said meant.

"Is she deceased?"

This was not where I wanted our talk to go. I nodded and tried to take the attention off of me, which was unlikely since this God-like man was staring at me so intently, waiting for me to explain that my sister, Gianna was dead.

"So, what's your name?" I picked up my drink, sipping through the straw and averting my eyes. The man seemed to notice my discomfort. I looked over to Jake, who hadn't missed me in the ten minutes I'd been gone, to see his hand on Maria's hip as he whispered in her ear while she tried to played pool. My pool game was stolen.

"People call me Whit."

I glanced back at him. Whit? Odd name.

But he had said, "People call him Whit" not that his name was Whit. I wanted to ask him about that, but looking at him, his eyes now easy-going and friendly I let it go. If he wasn't going to pry into my reluctance to talk about Gianna, then I wasn't going to ask about his name. Maybe we both had secrets to hide.

I stuck out my hand. "Nice to meet you, Whit."

Whit shook my hand firmly. "You too, Bella. It's always nice to talk to a beautiful woman when I come back home." His hand was rough and big. Double yummy.

"Back home? Where do you live?" I asked, draining the last of my drink. I peered down at my hand, shaking it; the ice clinked at the bottom of the glass. Where did it all go?

"Chicago."

Whit noticing my empty glass waved a hand at Liam for another round since his drink was gone as well. After our order had been placed, he lit up another smoke and offered me one. I smoked but had been trying to quit for a few weeks. I took one out of habit, completely absorbed in this man. His flicked open his Zippo and settled the flame level with my face so I could light up, but stopped just before I could bring the cig to my face.

"There's a proper way of lighting a woman's cigarette, the gentlemanly way. Back in the old black and white film days, the good years, you wouldn't catch a screen legend not doing this for his leading lady."

I blushed at his chivalrousness. Whit seemed to have something going for him. His swagger made me melt, the way he spoke to me caused butterflies, and the way he sat close; breathing me in was enough to make me want to see him more than once. Twenty minutes with the man and I was already considering breaking my own rules.

I batted my lashes and asked, "Will you please show me the proper way to light a woman's cigarette?"

Whit grew serious and edged his way closer and I settled my knees between his. "It's quite seductive; it'll make you want to go home with me tonight. Are you sure you can handle that?"

I placed a hand on his thigh, rubbing slow circles. He looked down at my hand and back into my eyes. "I can handle a lot," I whispered for only him to hear.

Whit chuckled and bit his lip. "We'll have to see about that." He cleared his throat and sat up a bit. "Now, hold your cigarette right here," he instructed me to hold it to my lips. He flicked open his Zippo and lit it. "Put your hand on mine while I hold the flame to your cig." I wrapped my hand over his which held his Zippo. His hand was smooth and warm. "The whole time you're touching my hand keep eye contact with me." I again did as he asked and gazed into his light-blue eyes. His blond, wavy hair flopped against his temple as he minutely shook it from blocking his eye. I found myself getting lost in his gaze. His long black lashes fluttered as he blinked, and his heavy lids beckoned me.

"Bring your cigarette to your lips and slowly lean forward to light it, keeping your eyes on mine. When you're ready to light up, glance at the flame, line up your smoke and inhale." I did as he told me and inhaled the smoke into my mouth. "When you're lit look back into my eyes and blow your smoke out." When I focused back on his eyes, he was staring intently at my mouth. I smiled shyly and he closed his Zippo. We both leaned back, taking a drag from our respective cigarettes. It almost felt post-coital.

"And that's the proper way."

"You're right. Seductive," I admitted. The air between us was thick with desire from both of our ends. I wanted him. He was sexy, charming, and not a bullshitter. We didn't break eye contact as we continued to smoke. Just watching his lips curve around the cig was going to cause me to orgasm. I was done for. And when he wet his lips and I bit back a moan, I could tell he was done too.

Whit stood up, stubbed out his smoke and threw two twenties onto the bar. He bent down close to my ear, placing his hands on my waist. "Let's get out of here."

I couldn't get up fast enough. I stumbled to my feet and Whit held me by the elbow, steadying me. "I need to tell my friend." I glanced over toward the pool tables, seeing two middle-aged blue-collar types starting a game.

My brows furrowed. "Where….?"

"He left with Maria about five minutes ago."

I gaped. "That jerk! He could have told me."

Whit put his hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the door. "I have a pretty good idea where they went. She's probably using my car."

I threw him a disgusted look. I may only do one-night stands, but I wouldn't stoop to fucking in a car. Besides, I got caught one too many times by my father. I had a complex.

Whit slipped his hand in mine as we exited River City. "Don't hate on Maria. She has this thing with bringing people back to her place."

"Says her 'sometimes' boyfriend," I played with him.

He smiled. "Oh, the jealous type, I see."

I stopped on the sidewalk in front of my car and shook my head. He hit a nerve. I didn't do jealous. I dropped his hand and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling uncomfortable talking about the possibility of Whit and Maria "sometimes" being together. Maybe I was jealous. It was a foreign emotion to me. I kept myself so numb when it came to feelings yet this man just walked into my life literately an hour ago, and I was already harboring resentment for a woman who did the same thing I always did. Except this was Whit and there was something about him that I just liked. He made this, whatever I was feeling, so easy. I couldn't explain it. And I didn't want to face it. Whit wasn't going to be anything more than just a one-nighter. I couldn't afford to lose myself.

"I'm not jealous, really. I'm just…I don't know what I feel."

Whit gently pried my arms apart and set them leisurely around his neck, his eyes focused on mine. He pulled me closer using his grip on my hips and dipped his head low. "Hey," he whispered, "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

I shook my head, my nose brushing his. "Nothing, it's nothing. Let's go, okay?"

Whit's lips thinned, knowing I was keeping what I was feeling to myself. What did he expect me to do, admit my whole life story? I barely knew the man, yet I was fully prepared to fuck him silly.

God.

"Okay, but …just….let me do this first." He leaned closer, his breath washing over my face, his nose nudging mine. His body pressed into mine, my arms tightened around his neck as I helped him and closed the distance to my lips. Our heads tilted to get a better grasp on our melding lips. Whit's were so soft and plump as they moved over mine. I tasted the whisky and smoke on his breath, the mixture intoxicating to me. Our tongues played together slowly and sensually. He cupped my face with one hand and guided his tongue further into my mouth. I moaned because I loved when my face was being held in the midst of passion. He breathed me in as we both tugged and stirred our bodies together. The heat was building up, and I was enjoying the way I felt under his touch so much.

"Fuck, Bella. You taste so good." He kissed me again, roughly. "I want to taste you all over."

"Mmmmm," I groaned, my hand tangling in his waves of golden hair.

"When I first saw you tonight, I knew I had to have you. You amaze me already," he breathed, licking my lips. "You're going to be my addiction, my inspiration. I can feel it." Whit started running his tongue down the side of my neck. He gripped my hip harder, pulling me closer to his hardness.

"Keep doing that," I moaned with my head thrown back.

"I want your mouth," he told me, kissing me soundly. My whole body shivered.

Then a thought slipped in my head: I could get lost in him.

It was as if I was splashed in the face with a bucket of ice cold water. This man kissing me so fervently, so avidly would be only trouble, I knew it.

I broke the kiss, my chest heaving. Whit touched his head to mine, his eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

"What was that?" he asked. Whatever this was, he felt it too. "What are you doing to me?"

I held his face in my hands. "I don't know. This is confusing."

"I want you so bad."

This was too much. "I can't do this," I told him honestly. "I'm sorry if I led you on. Usually, I would be dragging you back to your place by now, but I just…can't."

Whit pulled back, desperately trying to read in my eyes what I wasn't telling him.

"Bella…"

I looked away. "You're only here for a week. Why start something now?"

"But…"

"I'm sorry, Whit."

He simply nodded and took a step back. The distance between us was already leaving me cold. "I have an early morning tomorrow anyway," he said.

"Me too. My best friend, Alice is getting married," I replied.

Whit inhaled sharply, which caught my attention. He then dropped his eyes and studied his feet."Take me home? I don't know how long Maria will be with my car."

"Sure, ya, okay," I mumbled as I dug in my pocket for my keys. I unlocked the doors and we both got in.

"Maria's place is in Lafayette Square off of Kennett Place," Whit told me as I drove off.

The ride was quiet. Whit kept tapping his foot tensely against the floor. I hopelessly wanted to pull over and take back everything I just said and bed him like he'd never been bedded before. It was also the first time I wondered what it felt like to wake up the next morning with a man.

I had to be steadfast. Whit wasn't in the cards for me. I couldn't let it happen.

He directed me to pull up to a three-story brownstone once we hit Kennett Place. I didn't turn off the car since I didn't want to prolong the goodbye.

"Thanks for the lift," he spoke softly.

"It's the least I could do," I answered, staring at the dash, my hands curling around the steering wheel.

"Look at me, Bella."

Letting my hands fall from the wheel, I looked over into Whit's steely eyes. He leaned in and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips. "Thank you for allowing me to have a drink with you this evening. It was a pleasure meeting you." His thumb brushed my cheek before its warmth disappeared and he exited my car.

Bending down one last time Whit said, "I come to town every three weeks for business. Maybe I'll see you sooner than you think." He smiled, closed the door, and tapped the roof. I watched him walk up the steps and into the brownstone.

Normally, I didn't have regrets. Whit might have been the first.

A/N

True facts from chapter two

1: River City is a real life bar on the border of south city and the county in St. Louis. And it's a real shithole.

2: The Museum of Sex is a real place in NYC, although Whit really doesn't have any displays. (story purposes only, LOL)

3: My only regret wore a Black Flag T-shirt the night I met him.

So what do you think about Whit?

We'll meet Edward next chapter ;)

Twitter: Larin20