Dangerous Flirt (19 page)

Sam closed the gap between them and stiffly patted her on the shoulder. “I still can't believe that part.”

“You and me both.”

“Well, at least we know she's not here. Consider me your beefy and handsome bodyguard. Sam can tag along too.” Chris looked down at the release papers on the bed. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Sounds good.”

“I'm sure you'll feel better
when you get home.” Sam dropped the plastic bag onto the bed and grabbed Chris' arm. “We'll give you some privacy to change.”

Both men walked out of the curtained area.

Beth's arm burned. When she squeezed her eyes shut, she pictured the spray-painted walls of her grandparents' trashed house.

The detective told her not to worry, but she knew Sarah Jane was out there. Waiting.

Pushing those
thoughts aside, she threw off the covers and changed. Time to do what she always did. Move forward.

Beth slid across the red vinyl booth seat at The Lucky Seven Diner. She fiddled with the dice-shaped salt and pepper shakers while Sam and Chris studied the menu as if it were the Holy Grail. Still nauseous from the pain medication, she had
no intention of topping off the day by puking at the table.

“So, what'll you have?”

Hypnotized by the nutty scent of coffee wafting from the waitress' silver carafe, Beth almost missed the flush that turned Sam's cheeks ruddy. Flabbergasted, she didn't even pretend not to stare. Not that he noticed. A parade of showgirls wearing pasties and feathers could have danced by and he wouldn't have
blinked. Looking beyond the coffee in the waitress' grasp, Beth studied the woman who'd captured Claire's buttoned-up brother's attention.

Wow.

The woman had a good two inches on Beth, making her about five feet, eleven inches tall in black high-top tennis shoes. Bright platinum-blonde hair fell in layers of riotous curls to her pointy chin. A tattoo in a rainbow of colors peeked out from the
short sleeve of her black T-shirt, but not enough for Beth to determine if it was an animal or an intricate design. A pair of painted-on jeans and cherry-red lipstick completed the look. The waitress looked as shell shocked as Sam.

“Hey! I know you.” Chris broke the silence. “You were one of the waitresses at our poker game. That jerk sure did deserve it.”

“Uh, thanks.” Her husky voice acknowledged
Chris but her gray eyes never left Sam.

Chris put his elbows on the table and leaned around Sam to get closer to Beth. “It was awesome. This asshole…” He glanced up at the waitress. “Sorry about that. This jerk grabbed her tits…” He smiled an apology toward the other woman. “Sorry. This jerk grabs her…breasts during the poker game. So, she takes this ginormous silver tray that she'd been using
to carry the drinks and whacks him over the head with it. It was a sight to behold.”

He relaxed back, a goofy grin on his face. For his part, Sam had gone perfectly still. Interesting. She couldn't wait to tell Claire about her brother's very atypical behavior.

Beth flipped up her heavy ceramic mug. “May I have some?”

The waitress—Josie, according to her name tag—blinked a few times as if trying
to remember why she was here. “Uh, yeah.”

“Josie.” Sam's low voice rumbled.

A tight smile pinched Josie's cheeks tight and her eyes darkened to the color of hardened steel. With a jut of her hip, the straightening of her spine and the tilt of her jaw, her body morphed from that of a friendly waitress to a hard-ass chick who just might steal someone's lunch money. “Do I know you?” She cocked
her head to one side sending her curls bouncing. “Oh yeah, you were at the poker game too, right? Scotch, neat, if I remember correctly.”

“I—”

“You're hungry? Well, you came to the right place. Let me get your orders.” Holding her pen at the ready, she turned toward Chris. “What can I get you?”

After writing down the brothers' orders, Josie hurried back to the counter. There, she whispered
with another waitress before disappearing into the kitchen.

“What in the hell was that all about?” Chris prodded.

“None of your business.” Sam snapped his menu closed and shoved it into the menu holder in the middle of the circular table.

“Oh really, well—”

“Drop it.”

Chris held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, whatever you say big brother… So you don't mind if I try to get her number?”

Sam's shoulders tensed and he got right into his brother's face until their noses nearly touched. “I don't care what you do. Go for it.”

“Hey there folks, here are your drinks, two waters and a Coke.” A middle-aged waitress with mousy brown hair carefully placed the glasses on the Formica table. “Josie went on break, so I'll be taking care of you from now on. Your orders will be right up.” With
a curt nod, she strode off.

Fixing Chris with a glare, Sam gulped down half of his water before slamming it down. “Don't say a word, Chris, not one single word.”

Chris opened his mouth then, thinking better of it, clamped it shut.

Brothers. If they didn't love each other so much, they'd have killed each other long ago.

A bell jingled when the front door swung wide. Hank sauntered in, worry
lines visible from across the room. But as soon as his gaze met hers, those lines eased and his lips curled into a relieved smile. Her heart flipped and flopped in her chest. If she didn't get a handle on her feelings, she was doomed.

“Hey.” He sat down and stroked a wide palm down her hair, stopping at her shoulder. His hand rested there and her nerves buzzed with awareness. “Are you okay?”

No. Not as long as he touched her. Hell, not as long as he was in the same hemisphere.

“Fine, thanks for asking.” She raised her injured arm, making it throb enough to distract her from Hank's touch, burning her like a branding. “A few stitches and I'm as good as new.”

His hand slid up the column of her throat until he cupped her chin, tilting it upward. Her breath hitched and blood rushed in
her ears, drowning out the clatter of silverware and shouts of “order up”. Of its own volition, her body arched forward and her lips parted. A taste. She only needed a taste of him and she'd walk away.

The kiss scattered all thoughts of leaving. Her lips widened, welcoming his demanding tongue, and her own curled around it. A tingling started in the pit of her stomach and grew until she was on
fire with wanting. Nipples hard and pussy wet, nothing else mattered but this moment, this kiss.

Hank could have tossed her onto the table and fucked her senseless while the short-order cook flipped hamburgers in the background. She wouldn't have given a damn.

“Okay then, I guess Sam and I will be taking our drinks over to the counter.” Chris coughed, a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Dazed, Beth pulled away from Hank and licked her kiss-swollen lips. She should be embarrassed, but after all that had happened, she just didn't have the energy for it. Instead a languid sense of wellbeing had seeped into the marrow of her bones. A girl could get used to this.

She sighed, half in defeat and half in contentment. If she didn't put a stop to it, she'd get so used to it that she'd
wake up one day knowing she'd stolen Hank's dream of having his own family of Laytons. Because there was no denying it, he wanted her just as much as she needed him. For both of their sakes, she had to get back to neutral territory.

“Ignore Chris, he's an idiot.” Hank didn't even bother to glance over his shoulders at his retreating brothers. He scooted over, so close their legs touched from
hip to knee.

His nearness was doing a number on her resolve so she moved sideways. Her gaze followed his as it took in the two-inch gap between them, then slid back up.

Desperate for something to fill the silence and break the sexual tension, she grabbed her coffee cup and inhaled its wonderful aroma. “So, what did the police say?”

His smile indicated he knew exactly what she was up to, but
he didn't call her on it. She released a breath and her shoulders relaxed.

“That two-bit goon had Sarah Jane’s e-mail address and cellphone number programmed into his phone. That plus the information you got from Phil and what you'd dug up on Haverstan on your own creates a strong case against her.”

“But why?”

“Hell, I wish I knew. The mint to be made from owning the land around the road leading
to the Lakota Reservation casino provides a great motive, but it just doesn't ring true. There's more to this than money. Once I track her down, I’ll find out exactly what that is.”

“So you’re sure she’s gone?”

“Yeah, there's a record of her checking into the flight to Mexico.”

Apprehension inched across her skin and she couldn't stop the shiver of fear. “So what now?”

He curled his fingers
around hers still holding the mug. “We go home. I'll find Sarah Jane. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“Why?” Excitement and dread swirled around inside her, tensing every muscle in her body.

He chuckled. “Well, we can't live in Vegas.”

The lump in her throat grew to boulder proportions, but she had to know. “That's not what I mean.”

“I know.” He shifted in his seat to fully face
her.

She drank in the sight of him. The scruffy beard covering his strong jaw. The way the flecks of green in his hazel eyes grew darker as his mood turned serious. How his gray shirt did a lousy job of hiding the breadth of his muscular chest and curve of his well-formed biceps. Needing to memorize the moment before it all went to hell, she closed her eyes and inhaled his musky scent.

His finger
traced her jaw, setting off sparks everywhere he touched. The sensation startled her and she opened her eyes. The heat in his gaze went straight to her already drenched pussy. God, why did doing what was right, feel so bad?

“I wasn't lying on the plane. I've fantasized about you since I was twenty-two, wanted you so bad my teeth hurt. That's all I thought it was, lust. But when I saw you lying
on that bathroom floor, bloody and half-conscious, the world fell out from beneath me.” He rushed on, “I'm not saying let’s get married tomorrow, but soon. You, me, a houseful of kids and a dog. I insist on the dog.”

Panic sucked all the air out of the diner. The taste of bittersweet irony filled her mouth. She'd longed to hear those words for as long as she could remember. Now that she had,
her only choice was to push him away. She couldn’t let her own selfishness hurt another person she loved.

Inhaling a shaking breath, she straightened her spine.
Please God, just let me bluff my way out of this.

Her mind reeled, searching for something to say. The idea hit her like a lead balloon. Could she do it? She gazed at him, the hope clear in his tired hazel eyes. She had to brazen it
out. It was for the best.

God, she wanted to puke.

“Wow, Hank. I don't know what to say.” His body tensed and she had to blink back the tears threatening to give her away. “There's no denying I'm attracted to you, but I'm afraid that's all it is. Lust. We can be fuck buddies.”

He grabbed her, forced her to turn and face him in the claustrophobic booth. “Bullshit! What I feel for you is different
than lust, and you feel the same.”

The truth of his words twisted her heart into a tight knot until she snapped. “You want it all, don't you? The picket fence. The wife and the two-point-five kids. Oh, and let's not forget Fido digging in the yard.” Her nails dug into her palms as she forced herself to go on. “Well, Hank, what you want isn't in the cards for me.”

“What are you talking about?
And don't give me any more of that fuck-buddy crap.”

Reaching deep to some well of inner strength she hoped wasn't tapped out, she pushed against his chest. “I need to leave.”

He sat still as a statue made of anger and hurt. The only thing that moved was the vein pulsing at his temple. “Not without me.”

She’d taken it too far, done too much for this to end any other way than ugly. He wanted
her. She wanted him. “And if I said tonight and never again?”

Lowering his lips to hers, he hesitated a breath before they touched. “I’ll find a way to convince you otherwise. Before tonight’s out, you’ll tell me your secret, Beth. Have no doubt.”

T
he kissing lasted through a quick wave goodbye to Chris and Sam, the cab ride to Hank's hotel and most of the elevator ride. Beth didn't come up for air until Hank slipped his room key into the lock, and even then her brain was mired in a lust-induced fog.

Dusk's golden light filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling window, giving the room a soft glow. After what had happened
this afternoon, the hotel had given them a suite and moved all of their baggage. Slipping out of her black heels, she felt her feet sink into the plush cream carpet as she sauntered across to the windows and their view of the Spring Mountains. The thick carpet silenced Hank's footsteps, but the quivering sensation dancing along her skin alerted her to his presence a moment before his strong fingers
slipped underneath her tacky Vegas hoodie. One foot nudged between hers, forcing them apart until her legs were as wide apart as her shorts allowed.