skirt rode over her thigh as she crossed her long, smooth legs, and wondered what it would be like to touch her. Take her home and lose himself in her body.
But picking up company wasn’t part of the plan. He’d come to unwind, as he often did after too many hours in the operating room. To let the smooth jazz ease the strain in his muscles and his mind before heading home to get some much needed sleep.
So he’d tried to focus on the music instead of the pretty girl at the bar, and he’d done an almost passable job of it—right up to when the chump running on one drink too many moved in.
Now the woman with the siren hair and soft smile was unsuccessfully trying to brush off the persistent nuisance who wanted to play the “don’t I know you from somewhere” game.
It was a cheap line, so overdone it should be stricken from the pick-up playbook forever. But some guys never learned. And some women deserved a break. Which was why, when the guy moved in again, Jake pushed off the wall and crossed to the bar.
A thick cloud of cologne, laced with sweat and whiskey, wafted around her as the man hunched closer. Cali set her glass down and reached for her purse.
This stank. The music was fantastic, but she couldn’t shake her barfly, which meant it was time to leave.
“You’re alone.” The slurred voice dropped meaningfully. “I’m alone—”
“Hey, babe.” A rich, deep baritone cut in, sliding like a smooth caress down her spine, saving her from whatever promise or threat of mutual satisfaction Whiskey Breath was selling. The body that issued it dropped into the open seat on her left, and when his warm, wide hand settled over hers she jumped, awareness churning within her. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. Work ran late.”
“What—?” was all she managed, before her first look at the stranger beside her stole her breath. Piercing blue eyes pinned her to her spot, while a smile as sexy as sin held her rapt.
Dangerous.
Next to this guy, Mr. Whiskey was nothing. She should push away from the bar, grab her clutch and leave without looking back.
That was what she should do.
Definitely.
Sensual lips, full and wide, cocked up to one side, and before she’d even thought, the words left her lips. “Hi…babe.”
Her gaze dragged over the near-hypnotic proportions of her barside savior, as he followed the other man’s grudging retreat with his eyes. He was huge, easily six-four, built with a tapered physique that left her mouth watering and the rest of her body on high alert. The thin black knit of his summerweight V-neck clung, emphasizing his broad shoulders, defined pecs and flat abs. This was the kind of man she never let her herself notice, only this one…
Well, he was a modern-day knight in pricey denim, rescuing a damsel in distress from a whiskey-breathing barfly. He was her hero and, try as she might not to notice, she wasn’t dead.
He shot her a disarming smile. “Sorry about the ‘babe’ business, but it had the necessary possessive ring to it, don’t you think?”
He had an incredible voice.
Fighting the urge to titter with nervous laughter, she answered, “Very effective. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, wishing her head would clear as well. She was a grown woman, and this wasn’t the first attractive man who’d ever spoken to her—though he was easily the most attractive. The lean, chiseled lines of his cheekbones and the ruthless cut of his jaw and nose were masculine, sexy. Blending outdoor sportsman and tuxedo-fine in seamless perfection. The thick silk of his dark hair, clipped short on the sides and long enough to wave in rumpled disarray on top, had her fingers itching to tangle in it.
Definitely dangerous.
He angled closer, an alluring violation of her personal space, and offered his hand with a gruff introduction. “Jake Tyler.”
“Cali—but, umm, I should get going.”
He turned to face her, those blue eyes filled with censure. “After I got rid of your friend? The least you can do to thank me is stay and listen to the music, like you were trying to do before he interrupted.”
So he’d been watching her. Boy, she didn’t want to know that. Didn’t want to like it. Slanting a look his way, she tried to size up the threat he made.
He met her stare and held it for a beat. “You seemed to be enjoying the band.” He shrugged and glanced over to where the bartender had set down his order.
The long muscles running the length of his spine, visible through the hug of his sweater, flexed and shifted as he rested one arm on the bar to reach for his drink.
“I like jazz. I like it when others like it, too. The guy seemed to be getting in the way, so I helped him out. That’s all. You and I, we can just sit here and listen together. Ignore each other completely. In fact…” he leaned back slightly, eyes focused now on the front of the club “…I’ve forgotten about you already.”
She stared, and then a ripple of amusement broke loose from the anxiety-tightened confines of her chest. His reverse psychology teasing should have sent her fleeing for the nearest cab, only it had sent butterflies flitting around her belly instead.
Temptingly dangerous.
She cocked her brow at him, feigning surprise. “Are you still here?”
The low rumble of his answering laughter had a seductive quality she couldn’t resist, and then she was laughing too, swearing to herself it was only a momentary indulgence.
“Fine,” he drawled, luring her attention to the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Since you’re so desperately chatty, I’ll talk to you.”
A stuttering cough escaped her as she tried to muster any emotion other than delight. “I beg your pardon?”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “No need to beg. So, what do you think? Should we talk about work?”
He was good. Smooth. Exactly the kind of distraction she didn’t need on the first day of the most important assignment since the reinvention of her career. She didn’t have room in her life for a man. She should run, she thought, firmly planted in her spot.
But, she’d run every other time a man threw a decent line or a flashy smile her way over the last three years. She’d tolerated no distractions and it had worked. She’d gotten herself where she wanted to go.
Only tonight she didn’t want to run.
Maybe it was the music, or the club, or the high she was riding being so close to her goal. Or maybe she just wanted to remember what it felt like to have a gorgeous man trying for her smile. After all, it wasn’t as though this Jake Tyler was asking her to dump her career to be with him. He was just a sexy bit of sporting flirtation. Harmless. Fun. A guy she’d never see again and couldn’t affect her future one iota.
But talking about work? No way. Work was all tied up, with her every hope, dream and ambition wrapped around it—and her biggest mistake behind it.
No. Her
