Baby, It's Cold Outside

“It’s been a hoot, fellas, but, really, I’d better scurry.” I lazily reached for my coat.

“But baby, it’s cold outside,” George said. “Stay for a while.”

“George is right.” Martin drew back the curtain and peered out at the burgeoning storm. “Look, Sandra, it’s practically a blizzard out there! It will be past your knees before you get to the corner.”

“Well, maybe just a half a drink more.” I waved my empty glass at George. “Buy a gal a refill?”

George’s fingers brushed over mine as he took my glass. When had he become so movie-star handsome? Tall and swarthy, with sparkling eyes and a devil may care tousle to his brunette curls. A hint of razor stubble framed his full lips—lips I longed to kiss. “Your hands are like ice. Another brandy will warm them right up.”

“That’s the spirit. I do believe I’ll have another, myself,” Martin said with a grin.

“Martin, this will be your third, shame on you.” I flashed him a saucy pout.

“It’s my fourth, but who’s counting? Say, Sandra, how about you put on another record? Let’s get this party swinging.”

“I’m not sure if you’ll appreciate my taste in music, but sure thing.”

I leaned over the record player, allowing my cardigan to yawn open and expose my ample cleavage, a little treat for both handsome men. My attempts at seduction seemed to be working at last, and I was rewarded with a wolf whistle from George. I caught him...