“How about a drink?” he murmurs in my ear, and I nod. He leads me over to the bar and orders a whiskey sour for me and a beer for himself. “I’m just going to have one.” His eyes flick to my hair. “I’ll be fine to drive.” “I know.” I laugh quietly. “You’re Mr. Responsible.” His gaze drops to my mouth, and my blood spikes with electricity. “Not always,” he mutters,
