“I wouldn’t like to guess.” I was already backing away. If I let him touch me—take my hand, or put his on me—I’d be lost. “Sorry, kid. I had fun. I’m glad you did, too. Take it easy.”
I turned and took a few steps. It was my natural reaction: cut and run. But his voice traveled after me, slowed my feet.
“Hey!” he called. I turned back. He spread his hands. “At least tell me your name.”
“What’s yours?” I countered.
I was rewarded with his chuckle. “Trouble,” he said.
I gave him another regretful, slow up-and-down. “Yeah,” I sighed. “Yeah, you are.”
I heard the whisper of a ghost:dead shot, straight to the heart.
My feet were moving despite myself, taking me back to him. The few inches of height I had on the guy meant I could take pleasure in looking down into his eyes, two shadowy forest glades, deep enough to lose myself in.
And then Ididlose myself. My hands slid over his shoulders, up into his hair, and I pulled his mouth to mine. It was a long, soft kiss, the kind of kiss I’d rarely been able to give or receive in my lifetime, and the fact that it was happening in an empty bar didn’t make it any less sweet.
He let out a little gasp when I pulled my lips away, his eyes flickering between mine as he tried to focus. I let him go and took a step back.
“Well, yougottatell me your name after a kiss like that,” he said with an attempt at a cocky smile, but his unsteady voice gave him away.
I wanted to tell him my name. Wanted to tell him my whole life story, wanted to go home with him like he asked, bed him, watch him sleep, make him fucking pancakes the next morning.
Instead I just gave a lazy salute. “I’ll see you around.”
I wouldn’t. I’d make sure of that. I’d change my collection night, come during the day, anything to make sure I didn’t run into him again.
I took a twisting route back to my old, crappy Pinto, which I checked for bombs, bugs, and trackers a little more carefully than normal.
He’d told me outright he was trouble, and boy, did I believe it.
CHAPTER4
MILLER
Fate was slidingthrough my fingers, I decided, as I watched the hot stranger leave the bar. This had to be the longest time I’d spent with someone andnotgotten naked with them. For the last few years, anyway.
I’d been watching him for so long that it had almost been a shock to talk to him tonight. Every Friday he was here like clockwork. He’d come in and take the hat off his dark hair, accept an envelope from Tim, tuck it away in the inside pocket of his jacket. Then most nights he’d order a bourbon neat, while his gray-blue eyes took in the crowd.
He was observant in a way I recognized and yet didn’t—he was always taking in details, summing up and evaluating each individual face, but not the wayIdid when I looked at people. I watched out for interesting faces with thought to artistic inspiration, and hell, maybe a quickie.
This guy wasn’t looking to paint anyone, and I’d learned tonight he wasn’t looking to pick up anyone, either. I still couldn’t figure out what hewaslooking for. He always had tension running through his broad shoulders, always snapped his head around to unexpected sounds or laughter.
He was nevernervous. But he was alert.
Tonight, he’d been quick to deal with the sleaze hanging out in the bathroom, and I couldn’t resist sneaking out after him. Seeing him fight with such precision and ease had turned the dial for me on my personal hot-o-meter scale from “damn” to “Daddy,” and then right on through to “dangerously delicious.” The way he’d straightened his jacket with a snap after giving that creep a roundhouse kick had made my knees weak.
And now he was walking away from me.
The door closed, and I glanced over to where Tim finally abandoned his pretend-cleaning of the bar counter. He threw the rag down and folded his arms. “Seriously,” he said. “If you don’t fuck him after keeping me here all night, I’m gonna ban you from this place.”
“I’m going, I’m going!” But first I darted back to grab the hat the hot stranger had left behind.
Perfectexcuse.
I ran out the door and caught sight of him disappearing around the corner at the end of the block, but when I took a breath to call his name, I had to pause.
How in the hell had I spent hours and hours talking to him, flirting with him, sliding my foot up and down his crotch, had the most amazing kiss of my life, andnotgotten his name?
