delivered her pizza and she began to eat. As she chewed, she couldn’t help thinking that a dinner that was the equivalent of rubbery cheese on cardboard was a sure sign of a miserable social life.
“You don’t look like you’re enjoying that much.”
Startled, she dropped the half-eaten pizza slice and stared at the man who’d slid onto the bar stool next to her. “What are you doing here?”
Kyle tilted his hat back on his head. “I’m looking for you.”
Whatever appetite she’d had deserted her at those four words. She pushed her plate away and took a long drink, careful not to look at him, though she could feel his gaze burning into her. “Why would you be looking for me?”
She waited for some flirty or suggestive answer, but he remained silent. She held out for a full minute, but after that she had to look at him. He wasn’t smiling—in fact, he looked far too serious.
Pete approached. “What can I get you?”
“Bourbon and Coke.” Kyle turned to Theresa. “Do you want anything else?”
She shook her head. What she wanted was to get out of here. Away from him and the shaky, unsettled way he made her feel.
“How long have you been a tattoo artist?” he asked.
The very ordinariness of the question surprised her. No innuendo or playfulness, just ordinary conversation. What was he up to? She shifted slightly away from him and stirred her drink with the straw. “About seven years now. I apprenticed a couple years before that.”
“Uh-huh. I’ve been on the rodeo circuit ten years. A long time to be smelling horse shit and wrestling ornery cows.”
“If you don’t enjoy it anymore, why don’t you quit?”
He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that. But I don’t see a lot of other options. It’s what I’m used to.”
“You can’t rodeo with your arm in a cast, can you?”
“There is that.” He frowned at his injured forearm, then took a long drink. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what I’m going to do with myself for the next six weeks, until I can get back on the circuit.”
So he was grounded for six weeks? A lot could happen in that kind of time.
She pushed the thought away. She didn’t want anything to do with a randy cowboy. She looked away, pretending indifference. “I don’t see how I can help you there.”
He scooted closer. “Oh, but I think you can.” His voice was a notch above a whisper; velvet brushed across nerves set on hyperalert. “I think you and I could make the next six weeks damned interesting.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t keep back the hot flush that swept up her neck and across her cheeks. “Forget it,” she said, even as she listened for him to elaborate.
He traced his forefinger down her arm. “Hear me out, now. I believe we’d both benefit from what I have in mind.”
“What could you possibly do for me, cowboy?” Watching the light and shadows play across his handsome face, half a dozen erotic ideas flitted through her mind. But they were just ideas—she was better off not getting involved.
“For one thing, I could take you out and buy you a better dinner than stale bar pizza.” He thumped the plate containing the remains of her meal.
“I don’t need you to take me to dinner,” she said.
“But what about after dinner?” He stroked her cheek, a silken touch that immediately raised her temperature five degrees. “Maybe you need me then.”
“No, I don’t,” she said, even though her body had other ideas.
“I think you do.” He leaned closer still, so that his knee met hers and his arm brushed the side of her breast. “And I sure as hell need you. The minute I laid eyes on you this afternoon, I knew we’d be good together.”
“You’re dreaming.” When did it get to be so warm in here? Maybe she should ask Pete to turn down the air-conditioning. Or she could go home—now—and take a cold shower.
“If I’m dreaming, then it’s a wet dream, darlin’.” He smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too.”
“Feel what?” Somehow she managed to get the words out around the knot in her throat.
“These sparks between us. Our bodies are saying things to each other. Don’t you want to finish the conversation?”
“You’ve been drinking too much.”
He pushed his half-empty glass away. “Not nearly enough to get you out of my mind.”
“I’m not interested in getting involved with you or anyone else,” she said.
“It depends on what you mean by involved.” He sat up straighter. “I’m talking about six weeks of enjoying each other. No strings attached. We both make the best of it.”
“I’m not interested.” She laid a five on the counter and stood to leave.
He touched her arm lightly. “Don’t be so hasty. I’ve done a little checking. Discreetly. I know you’re not involved with anyone else.”
“I like it that way.”
“Really?” His gaze pierced her, challenging her to admit the truth. “You don’t look like a woman who’s made to be celibate.”
“Oh, so you’re going to save me from that fate? How noble of you!”
“Nothing noble about it. Like I said before, we’d both benefit from a few weeks of fun.”
She shook her head. “Find somebody else.”
“I don’t want somebody else. I want you.”
The man didn’t mince words, she had to give him that. Would he be as direct in bed? “Why me?”
He stood, pressing in close, scant inches between them. “You intrigue me. You’ve got brains to go with that sexy body.” He smoothed his hand down her arm. “We wouldn’t bore each other.”
Men had called her a lot of things, but smart wasn’t usually one of them. The idea that he saw past her vamp wardrobe and tough-girl attitude moved her more than she cared to admit.
And the fact that he could snare her this easily frightened her. She pulled away. “I have to go now.”
“All right. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I insist.” He fell into step beside her. He said nothing as they exited the bar and walked down the deserted street, but every part of her was aware of him. As tall as she was, he was taller. He walked next to the street, touching
