swung around toward him, her hosiery-clad legs connecting with his. She didn’t seem to notice, but he did. Immediately.
Her baby blues flashed fire. “You think I’m dangerous after two beers? Since you have no idea who I am or what I can do or how much I can drink, your opinion is best kept to yourself.”
Worrying about her drinking was now the last thing on his mind. His mind had headed south, and he wondered if she could feel the heat rising from his jean-clad thighs simply because of her touch. He suddenly hoped not. He hadn’t gotten this much of a rise from a woman in a long time, and despite himself, he wanted to prolong it.
“Most people value my opinion,” he drawled, giving her his best wink. If he’d worn his Resistol, he’d have tipped the cowboy hat’s brim to her.
She recoiled as if she’d seen a snake. “I am not most people.”
He could agree with her there. Actually, she was different from the others he’d met of her class. She had spunk, style. Perhaps his first impression of her had been wrong. He didn’t mind being wrong, not in this case.
A slow smile edged across his face. She’d said she wasn’t most people, meaning she didn’t value his opinion. He had the perfect reply. “Then that makes you one of the few that don’t know better.”
If she weren’t waiting for Sara, Cassidy would have shown him her beer up close and personal by dumping it in his lap. She bit her tongue from the barbaric reply that sprang to her lips, and instead replied through clenched teeth.
“I see your mother forgot to raise you with manners.”
He had to give her credit. She was fast on her feet. But so was he, and he was enjoying this challenge way too much. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who could match wits and spar with him. “What I lack in manners, ma’am, I make up for in other areas.”
“Really.” Those areas were not something she wanted to think about, but unable to resist his bait, she exaggerated her Texan drawl to match his. “Too bad I’m so unimpressed with any of the areas I see.”
The electricity between them sizzled. His voice silky, he drawled, “Then perhaps you should investigate the areas you don’t see. I’m sure you’ll find something to your liking.”
Her legs pressed even more into his, and she deliberately allowed her gaze to rove over his body. “Nah. Those don’t interest me, either.”
He arched an eyebrow at her and laughed. He hadn’t seen this much spirit and spunk in a woman in a long time. He had to admit, it intrigued him. Better, she intrigued him. He had judged her too quickly, and now he wanted to peel off her layers in more ways than one.
Besides, he would remain in control. He was all grown-up and practiced in the art of womanly wiles now.
Cassidy bristled, annoyed at his obvious ease. Still she maintained her outward composure as she dug a little deeper. “What, a woman not being interested isn’t a reply you hear every day?”
“Can’t say that it is.” He signaled for another round of longnecks and his expression sobered. “Seriously, though, why don’t we make peace and then you can tell me what’s got you in such a foul mood.”
Cassidy blinked at him, her suspicion obvious at the sudden shift of conversation. Oh, what the hell. It could be mistake number four, or was she now on five? She’d lost count, and all she knew was that she needed to vent, and Sara sure wasn’t around.
Suddenly noticing that her legs were touching his, she moved herself a safe distance away. Her body immediately missed his touch, and Cassidy frowned. That wasn’t a feeling she should be having. She found her safe topic. “I had the house I’m selling inspected by the city today.”
He nodded his understanding. “I should have guessed. Hit you hard, did he?”
“Four pages worth of predications,” she replied, reaching for the bottle of beer the waitress deposited in front of her.
He whistled low. “Not good.”
“You’re telling me,” Cassidy replied, her comfort level with him escalating.
Finally, here was someone who actually understood. Dan had been too busy with some project to talk to her. Not even her real estate agent had been sympathetic, and she stood to make a huge commission from the deal. Blade’s roast beef sandwich arrived, and it did look good. Cassidy’s eyes glazed as she stared at it. Maybe she should eat something. “I thought you recommended the strip steak.”
“I do, but my usual is roast beef.” He dipped the French bread roll in the juice, and Cassidy’s mouth started watering as he raised the morsel to his lips.
He gestured with a French fry. “So you were saying, about the house?”
She blinked as the French fry disappeared. Darn her. She’d been staring at his lips! “Oh. Right. It’s all Lillian’s fault.”
“Lillian?” His dark-brown eyebrow shot up and Cassidy again noticed his eyes. Those bedroom blues had turned boardroom. He was actually interested in what she was saying. Danger signals went off in her head. Whoa, she thought. Time to stop drinking beer.
She reached for the plastic dish holding the remaining peanuts. She should at least eat something. “Lillian’s my mother-in-law. Well, she’s not my mother-in-law. Not yet. Not ever if I could help it. She means well, but…”
Cassidy shuddered. Immediately forgetting her resolve, she took another sip of her third beer. She tried to gather her thoughts and retrench. Had she just criticized Lillian aloud? “She kept talking and the more she talked, the more he wrote.”
The inspector certainly hadn’t been impressed that Lillian had been the wife of Senator Ed Morris of Texas, or that she lived next door, or that she could get him fired. He’d just kept writing, turning the paper over, filling the back, and then beginning a new sheet.
Even worse, Lillian had remained calm about the whole thing.
“You’ll just need to build a new house,” Lillian had said. “I’ll talk to Ed and Dan about it tonight. If you contracted for one now it might be ready when you come home from your honeymoon. A month in Alaska, doesn’t that sound wonderful? June is the perfect month to see Alaska. It’ll be Ed’s and my gift to you both.”
At that moment Cassidy was glad she’d never taken advantage of Texas’s concealed carry law.
“Sounds pretty bad,” the man next to her sympathized as she finished the story.
“It is,” Cassidy said. He finished his sandwich, and her mouth went dry. What had gotten into her? She’d just told him everything. She never did that. She never drank beer, either, or held conversations with strange but attractive guys in a bar. She blinked. He was gorgeous, enough to be a calendar pinup. She shoved another handful of peanuts into her mouth. Sober. She needed to be sober.
“Look,” he began, “I know some handymen who can help you out. I can call them and…”
“Oh no,” Cassidy managed through the mouthful of peanuts. She shook her head firmly and cut him off. Do not accept favors from strangers in bars. Especially good-looking men like him
