Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
She headed for her favorite booth, but drew up short when she saw that it was occupied. Her brain took precious seconds to catch up to her eyes. There he was, the asshole, sitting in her booth with his legs stretched out in front of him, wearing those jeans that hugged his ass and thighs and a smug smirk, with his arms stretched out across the back of the booth. Challenging her.
In case she missed all that written all over his face, there were two drinks in front of him—a beer and, if she didn’t miss her guess, a dirty martini. Her preferred drink. How the hell did he even know that?
Oh yes, this was a challenge all right.
Every intelligent cell in her brain demanded she turn around and walk away. Run away. But then the bastard raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to sit down and drink with him, and she threw common sense right out the window. Carrigan strode across the distance separating them, putting a little more swing into her step and smiling to herself when his gaze tracked the movement. Album or not, tangled history or no, he wanted her.
And she wasn’t above using that against him.
“Two nights in a row. I must have pissed off Lady Luck somehow.” She sank onto the cushioned seat across the small table from him. The bartender appeared half a second later, and Carrigan smiled sweetly at her. “A dirty martini, please.”
The woman looked at the table, looked back at her, and shrugged. “Sure thing.”
If anything James just seemed more amused. “Too good for my drinks?”
“I’m not stupid enough to take a drink I’ve left unattended… and I’ve never laid eyes on this one until I got here. Party Girl 101.”
“Now, lovely, why would I need to drug you? You came here of your own free will, just like I knew you would.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, drawing her gaze to the way his black T-shirt clung to his shoulders and how his dangling hands seemed designed to frame the bulge between his legs.
Her body zinged to life in a way it hadn’t in months. It was all too easy to take a walk down memory lane and feel him lifting her against that wall and shoving his cock home, growling filthy words in her ear in that same tone of voice he was using now.
Shit.
She held his gaze even though all she wanted to do was look away. James wasn’t pretty. He was far too masculine for that. The first time she’d seen him, she thought he’d look perfectly at home on the back of a Harley, and that perception hadn’t changed with time. Everything about him screamed danger in a way she wasn’t used to. The men in her family were dangerous—there was no doubt of that—but it was a polished danger. James’s wasn’t. He was gritty and primal and… She really needed to stop. Right now. “I wouldn’t put anything past you at this point.”
“You wound me.”
“You kidnapped me. I’d say we’re nowhere near even.” Something she had to keep reminding herself, though the fact she kept forgetting annoyed the hell out of her. Only a weak woman would get all aflutter over a man who obviously meant her harm. A weak woman or one with a death wish.
Carrigan wasn’t either.
So why was she here, sitting across from him as if they were best pals? She leaned back and recrossed her legs. “Why are you stalking me?”
“If you’d remember, you are the one who came to me. I was just sitting here, minding my own business, enjoying a drink.” His cocky grin said otherwise. He’d known she would come back—that she wouldn’t be able to resist. The knowledge that he’d read so much in her personality in such a short time set her teeth on edge.
“Enjoy it in a different bar. Hell, in a different city.” She had to get a handle on her attitude. As it was, she was practically waving a giant sign telling him that he got under her skin. There was no reason to hand him over more power than he already had—and he already had too much.
“Now, lovely, don’t be rude. I’m buying you a drink.” He nodded at the bartender as she handed over a duplicate of the dirty martini already sitting on the table.
“I can buy my own damn drink.” She sounded surly and childish and hated it. You can do better than this. So do it. She watched a trio of girls who couldn’t possibly be twenty-one pass their booth, hips swinging wildly and sending come-fuck-me looks at the man across from her. He didn’t even glance their way, which only aggravated her further. “What do you want, James?”
“You already know the answer to that question.”