“Look, there’s been some misunderstanding.I don’t know who you are, but the owner invited me here.”
His hands slowly left my body, grazing my nipples and shooting sparks through my already overloaded senses, and stepped back.I turned cautiously, ready to run at any moment.A sudden light lit the room, and I blinked at the glare of flame in his hand.If I hadn’t known better, I’d swear his fingers were on fire.He cursed, and I looked up at his face, finally seeing my captor.
All thoughts of fingers on fire vanished.
I gaped, taking in the dark-haired Adonis standing before me.Black hair grazed his shoulders, framing a face steeped in sensuality.Fathomless, dark eyes gazed at me, giving me a thorough onceover from my head to my toes.Yet his study wasn’t the least bit leering.It was full of male speculation and downright tempting.
Whoa.Stranger danger!Where the hell had my caution gone?
I took a subtle step back, unable to stop staring at him.The man had arresting features, from his straight, aristocratic nose to his stubborn, squared jaw.And his body—tall and muscled—would have been right at home on the cover of any muscle magazine.
“You aren’t Janet.”His voice oozed sex appeal, dark and husky, like the rumble of thunder that passed overhead.
“No, I’m not.”Adrenaline made my heart thump, as much from the fright he’d given me as from his alluring good-looks.
He sighed and lowered the light he held.“Sorry.I thought you were someone else.”
“Obviously,” I muttered then sneezed.
His full lips quirked into a smile, and my heart beat double-time.
“As you can tell, the basement lights are out due to the storm.We should head upstairs, where you can introduce yourself and explain what you were doing down here.”He nodded to the stairs behind me, his words clearly an order rather than a suggestion.
But I didn’t care.I wanted heat and distance from the stranger rousing my sleeping sex drive.I turned and hurried up the steps but felt his gaze on my back like a physical caress.
Crap on a cracker, I’m losing it.
I reminded myself that too little sleep and this weather had made a muck of my sensibility.Stiffening my spine as I entered the warm—and lit—atmosphere of the club once more, I headed for my things behind the bar and turned once I had a firm grip on my satchel.
I hadn’t heard him move and gasped to find him standing right behind me.Had this guy never heard of personal space?I didn’t mean to but my throat was dry, and I audibly swallowed my nerves.
Was it me, or did he seem even taller, somehow?“I’m Samantha Brooks, the assessor Jerry Barnham hired.I take it you work here.”
“Let’s see some ID, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?Oh my God.He’ll be lucky if I don’t punch him in the throat.
I clenched my jaw.When he crossed muscular arms over a massive chest and leaned against the back wall, unmoving, I decided to be the bigger person and removed my wallet to flash him my driver’s license—my thumb hiding my home address.I waited impatiently while he examined it.
Finally, he nodded.I stuffed my wallet back into my bag and stared into his eyes, disturbed by his arrogance and larger-than-life sex appeal.I mean, I’d met my share of attractive men before, but this guy was on a whole other level.
I cleared my throat.“And you are?”
“I bartend here for Jerry.”
Not a bouncer, which surprised me.With his stature he could easily intimidate those not playing by the rules.Hmm.If he was one of the bartenders… I looked him over again.
He had to be Darius Storm.The guy with the name I’d secretly credited to a stripper or porn star.It sounded too made-up.
But Jerry had mentioned the amazing draw his newest employee had, bringing in more patrons than the club knew what to do with.Seeing him, I understood the attraction.
“How wonderful for you,” I said, not even trying to keep my sarcasm in check.“Do you have a name?”
Not at all bothered by my mockery, the man’s gaze roamed my features as if committing them to memory.“I’m Darius.”
Well, that settled it.He really did work for Jerry.Unfortunately, my evil twin, the tempted imp dwelling inside me, lamented the fact he didn’t seem set on ravishing me like the heroines in my favorite love stories.I never got lucky like that.
Normally, I’m the gullible woman on the receiving end of a cheater.The one dating a guy who still lives in his mom’s basement and plays video games all day or the poor woman ghosted by a secret, handsome bazillionaire.
