"It’s rude to stare, you know." The woman looked up from her drink and cast Pacey a frosty look.

Damn, he still couldn’t tell what color her eyes were. "Sorry about that," he offered her a winning smile and took his glass, moving down the bar to sit beside her. "It’s just not every day that I see someone so stunning."

She frowned at him, "Does that line actually work for you?"

He smiled at her, noticing a faint flush tinge her cheeks. "That wasn’t a line. That was the truth. If I were trying to use a line on you, I’d ask if it hurt when you fell from heaven."

The corner of her mouth turned up, but her voice remained indifferent, "And does that line work for you?"

"No," he replied with an easy smile, studying her face.

"What are you looking at?" She shifted uneasily under his perusal.

"I’m trying to figure out what color your eyes are, they’re so dark…" he tilted his head, taking in her smooth complexion and the smoky depths of her eyes.

"I could say the same for your eyes," she replied meeting his gaze.

"Blue."

She shook her head, "No."

His smile was puzzled, "No?"

"Not blue," she lifted a hand, and used one long, pink tipped finger to tilt his face towards the light. "More of a sapphire. A deep sapphire."

He was quiet as she pulled her hand back, almost embarrassed by her actions. "You have a beautiful voice," he watched her make a face at the compliment.

"No one’s ever told me that before."

"That’s a shame, because it is. Almost captivating." He ran his eyes over her again, "But then, I’d have to say the whole package is rather captivating."

"You’re hitting on me."

"Maybe," he smiled again, "Does it bother you?"

"Would you stop if it did?" She arched an eyebrow.

"I’d consider it," He shrugged, taking a drink. "But like I said, it’s not often I run into a woman as beautiful as you, so I’d be reluctant to walk away."

She took a sip of her martini, the pink of her tongue gliding over the edge of the glass to capture a clinging drop of liquid. He wondered if she was aware of what she was doing, or if it was a purely innocent gesture. She didn’t strike him as the type to attempt seduction, blatant or subtle.

"Do you come with a name, Brown Eyes?" He asked, regarding her with a half-smile.

"Finally figured out the color?" She asked instead.

"Yeah," he nodded, "But they’re more of a chocolate brown." He tilted his head, "Extremely beautiful in their own right."

"You’re not exactly light handed with the compliments, are you?"

"No, I guess not. But I’m honest." He held out his hand to her, "I’m also Pacey Witter."

She took his hand, and he felt a spark of heat at the contact. What was the last time he’d felt that? Had he ever felt that? "Nice to meet you, Pacey Witter. Interesting name."

Smiling, he shrugged, "What can I say? My mom went a little crazy by her fifth pregnancy."

"Five? Impressive. You don’t see that much anymore these days. Catholic family?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "I was just an accident. You know, that was traditionally where most people would fill in their name." He teased, steering the conversation away from his family.

"Joey." She finally supplied, withdrawing her hand.

"Short for?"

"Josephine, which I hate. So don’t even think of calling me that."

"It’s pretty." She shot him a glare, "But I like Joey too."

"How come I've never seen you here before?" She asked, looking up as the door opened and a couple of middle-aged men came in.

"Good question," he shrugged a shoulder, "I’m usually a regular around here. Bad timing, I guess?"

"I come here every Monday with my girlfriends. We’ve never seen you here. Believe me, we’d have noticed you."

He gave her a pleased smile, "Was that a compliment?"

"No, just a comment what horrible taste my friends have."

"Ouch." He touched a hand to his chest, wounded. "And how exactly does your taste run?"

"Sweet, smart, kind," she listed. "A good dresser, handsome, and," she faltered for a moment, "Blue eyed."

"And I am none of those things?" He challenged.

"Well, aside from the sapphire eyes, no."

He glanced down at his outfit, one of the Hawaiian print shirts from his youth and a pair of jeans. "What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?"

"Did you get dressed in the dark this morning?" She questioned, her dark brown eyes teasing.

"I have a unique style," he said with a half smile.

"I guess you could call it that. I was leaning towards bad. But hey, to each his own." She took another sip of her drink.

He grinned, "You’ve got quite a tongue on you. I like that."

She nearly choked on her drink.

"Are you okay?" he asked, amusement tingeing his words as he rubbed her back.

"Ye-" she cleared her throat, "Yeah."

"And to think, I didn’t even mean that in the dirty way."

She cleared her throat again, "Let’s just steer away from talking about my tongue, okay?"

"So then your breasts would be off limits too, I suppose?" She lifted shocked eyes to him, "I’m kidding, I’m kidding." Oh, hell yeah, he was captivated by this woman. One minute she was sparring with him, the next completely embarrassed about simple flirting. And beautiful, couldn’t forget that she was beautiful. "Come on," he slid her glass out of her hand and pulled her from the stool, "Let’s play a little pool."

"Come on," he slid her glass out of her hand and pulled her from the stool, "Let’s play a little pool."

"I don’t really know how," she told him, not the least bit reluctant to let him hold her hand.

"I’ll teach you," He winked over his shoulder at her. "Grab a pair of pool sticks from the rack," He instructed as he reached beneath the table and began to set up the balls in the triangle.

"Good luck," she said wryly.

"Hard to believe you’ve never played pool before." Pacey commented as he pulled away the triangle and glanced over at her, struck anew at her sultry beauty.

"I’m not very competitive," she admitted holding out a stick for him. "Sports have never really interested me."

"Pool can hardly be considered a sport." He said wryly. "What does interest you?"

"You."

He glanced up at her in surprise.

"Did I say that out loud?" She groaned, her face flushing a pretty pink. "Oh, I really didn’t mean to say that, "she winced. "And I can’t even blame it on the alcohol. Is there anyway I can convince you to forget it?"

He grinned, "Not likely, but I’ll let you off the hook since you’re obviously embarrassed by it." He gestured down the table, "You take the first shot."

"All right," she turned warily to the green felt, looking as the though table might jump up and bite her. It was unbelievably cute.

She set up her shot, awkwardly trying several different positions before giving it her best stroke. The cue ball went careening off to the side, missing the balls all together.

"I warned you I’d suck," she rested the butt of the stick on the ground and leaned against it.

"Try again," he put the cue ball back into position and demonstrated how to hold the stick so she could aim properly.

She managed to hit the ball in the corner, but without much force. "See, better." He took a quick shot, scattering the balls across the table. "Okay, now try again." This time she managed to hit a ball in the pocket, unfortunately it was the white one.

"Because I’m such a generous guy, I’m going to let you retake that shot, but I’ll help you this time."

"Okay," she nodded as he came around the table. "Which one should I aim for?"

"Let’s go for the seven ball, right there. And put it in the middle pocket." She set up her shot, and he moved behind her, putting one hand over hers where she aimed the chalk covered tip and the other around her waist to grab the thick end of the pool stick.

"I’m ready," her voice sounded slightly breathy.

"Hmm, me too," he whispered, guiding the tip of the stick back and forth through their entwined fingers. Who knew pool could be so erotic?

They hit the ball and the seven fell easily into the pocket. Reluctantly, Pacey released her. "Try the next shot on your own."

"’Kay," she took aim, her tongue peeking of the corner of her mouth. Smiling, he watched her miss. Innocent brown eyes lifted to him, "I think I still need some help."

"Gladly," his grin was predatory as he slid into position behind her. The next ball fell predictably into the corner pocket. They continued this way for several more shots, the balls falling into their pockets in perfect succession.

After sinking the nine ball, Pacey didn’t release her immediately. "You smell delicious, you know that? Whatever that scent is, it’s designed to drive a man mad."

Tossing her silky hair back over her shoulder, she regarded him curiously, "I’m not wearing perfume, Pacey."

He let out a strained sigh, "There should be laws against smelling that good naturally."

She giggled and Pacey decided he could probably live the rest of his life happily listening to the sound. "You smell pretty good yourself," she told him quietly, her voice soft with shy sincerity, "Like sunshine and man and spaghetti sauce."

Grinning, he moved away from her, leaving her to chose the next shot. "I work in a restaurant."

"Really? She appeared genuinely interested before focusing on the table. "Chef?"

"Sometimes. I fill in wherever I’m needed." He shot her a smile, "Conveniently, I’m sometimes needed nowhere at all and sneak off to the back room."

Searching his face, she shook her head. "No you don’t. You’re not the type."

"Oh yeah? And what type am I, Joey?"

"Maybe if you didn’t enjoy your job, you’d slack off like that, but you very clearly love it. You’re the kind of man who stays dedicated to what you love. You’re as loyal as they come."

"And you got all that from half-an-hours conversation and a pool game?"

She grinned, "I’m astute."

"What else do you think you have figured out about me?" he questioned, moving behind her to help with the next shot.

"Well," she paused as the twelve ball teetered on the edge of the pocket and then fell in. "First off, you’re a pool shark."

"Am I?"

"Well, plainly, I suck at this game. So the only way we could possibly be making every shot is because you’re good enough to compensate for my ineptness."

"Score one for you. In high school, my friend Will and I earned spending money by conning all the bar flies out of money."

"Dare I ask how you were able to get inside a bar?"

He winked at her, "Better that you don’t."

"See, I knew you weren’t as innocent as you seemed," she mockingly narrowed her eyes at him.

He laughed, "I seemed innocent?"

"Sort of, but like I said, I knew you weren’t." She readied herself for another shot at the two ball, bending over the table, her shirt gapping open to reveal a wealth of creamy skin. "Are you going to help me or stare down my shirt?"

Pacey had the decency to look chagrined. "Sorry."

"No, you’re not." An almost inaudible sigh escaped her lips as his arms circled around her. "You’re attracted to me."

"A blind man could see that," he informed her. "And to be quite honest, I don’t think I’ve very been more attracted to a woman in my entire life."

She blinked once in surprise and then took the shot, sending the cue ball rolling wildly off to the side. "That’s a lot of honestly considering we met just forty-five minutes ago."

He smiled as they straightened, "I plan to make our acquaintance last much, much longer than that."

"How do you even know I want that? You’re awfully egotistical. I’m surprised your head even fit through the doorway."

"Not egotistical," he corrected. "Smart. If you didn’t want to, you’d have slapped me and gone back to your martini."

Her lips curved into a half-smile. "I guess I’m not the only astute one."

"Guess not," he moved around her again, a thrill of desire threatening to over come him each time they touched. "You’re just as attracted to as I am to you."

"I am not." She protested indignantly.

"Are so. You’re just to ladylike to admit it. You’re also not the type to go to bed with a stranger."

She straightened without taking the next shot. "How do you know that?"

She had an almost distressed look in her eyes and he frowned slightly. "I can just tell that you aren’t."

"Then, why exactly are you bothering with me?" She tilted her head, her hair falling over her shoulder.

A furrow of confusion appeared between his eyes, Because I don’t necessarily want to take a stranger to bed with me tonight either."

Her chocolate brown eyes surveyed him with precision, and Pacey had the distinct impression that he was being tested. Finally, she met his eyes, her expression shy, "Then let’s make sure we aren’t strangers when it’s time to go to bed."

Holy Mother of God, this woman was killing him. She was halfway angel with a sinfully delicious smile. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about her that had him so hypnotized, but whatever it was, he sure as hell didn’t want to be a stranger by the night’s end.