Tall, Dark and Filthy Rich. Jill MonroeЧитать онлайн книгу.
heat of his gaze faded, and his eyes turned hazel once more. He shifted his shoulders, and his body language became neutral. The barrier had returned. There was a detachment about Cole. There always had been. Oh, he was more at ease around people now, his “hands off” attitude more toned down. But it still lingered. That was probably why the women in his office took so much pleasure in teasing him. That article gave them the right tool to find a chink in his heavy emotional armor.
Jessie didn’t like barriers. Not anymore. They could hurt people. Her line of work was all about breaking barriers down. Discovering why someone needed those barricades. She didn’t like this newest wall Cole had just planted between the two of them. “Where can I get a copy of that article everyone was talking about?”
Cole turned and drew her back onto the sidewalk. “Forget it,” he said.
She tugged her sunglasses onto her nose and cautioned herself that the warm hand at the small of her back was some alpha male show of courtesy.
“You might as well give it to me. I’m a private detective, after all. I have my ways, you know.”
“You’ll just have to use them. I’m not about to make this easy for you.”
She wouldn’t want it any other way.
He led her to a building with a large sign proclaiming Latitude 33. Before Cole could even open the door, Jessie heard the low roar that could only be a crowd enjoying happy hour. She stepped inside. Yes, definitely a sports bar. Rows of televisions playing football, soccer, baseball and golf littered the place. Decorations representing every conceivable sport hung from the ceiling, draped over doorways and lined the walls. From the back of the room she heard the break of pool balls on one of the six green-felt-covered tables.
And the tempting smell of nachos. Her mouth watered.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to find Eve. “So, what do you think?” she asked.
“Wow. It’s like man heaven.”
“You haven’t even seen the upstairs. That’s where they have the interactive games. You can try your hand at golf or the batting cages. Nothing like slamming a ball into the wall to relieve a little stress. It’s actually a lot of fun.”
“Just don’t let that secret out on your show or men might start thinking sports bars are the perfect setting for proposals, birthdays and anniversaries.”
“Good point. Ah, there’s Nicole. She was finding us a table. I’ll introduce you to everyone else. And they can’t wait to meet you.” Eve glanced toward Cole with a playful smile. “We’re having a bet on who can get the best story from you about Cole.”
He rolled his eyes, but took the ribbing good-naturedly.
“You should be worried,” Jessie warned him. “I can be bought. Maybe you giving me that article doesn’t sound half-bad now. You know I can do some damage to you.”
JESSIE WAS RIGHT. She could do a lot of damage to him. Ever since the word fling had come from her beautiful mouth, he’d been trying not to picture her naked. Although that was just an excuse. He’d been picturing her naked since he’d spied those sexy legs of hers in the conference room.
This was not the awkward, innocent girl from his past. This was a woman who was smart, knew what she wanted and didn’t make a man look twice at her, because no man would be fool enough to take his eyes off her in the first place.
This evening had become sweet agony. Sweet because she fitted into his network of colleagues and friends so easily. Over the past hour they’d laughed, ate and generally enjoyed each other’s company. Agony, because he couldn’t get his mind off the potential softness of her lips. Or that spark of sexy mischief in her dark brown eyes. Or how she shifted in her seat, providing him a new, painful glimpse of her thigh. It should be illegal for this woman to wear short skirts.
In public, he amended. With him, in private, she could wear or not wear whatever she damn well wanted to.
He watched as Eve laughed about something Jessie had said. Jessie drew him. Looking back now, he realized she probably always had. Any number of people could have helped him with his Latin. Any number of people weren’t the police chief’s daughter, and yet still, he’d needed her company. He’d been attracted to her openness and giving spirit before. Jessie had always reminded him of sunshine.
But now…
Now the hints of what could happen in the darkness joined her sunny promise. Suddenly he wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in a long, long time. And it was futile. Like the tense of those Latin verbs she used to help him with, everything about this situation was imperfect. The past was the past. He’d been an idiot to bring it into the present.
Anyway, it didn’t matter, because he had to get out of there. A new hell was starting in the bar. Karaoke.
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