His Kind of Perfect (Sugar Bay #1) (7 page)

Heath walked away and Anabelle wanted to
call him back, his presence provided a sense of security. Not that she was
worried about her physical
safety,
it was more about
her emotional equilibrium.

She met Derek’s gaze and swallowed at the
look he leveled at her. It wasn’t anything overt in what he said or did, but
she got a sense that he was pleased at the turn of events, which made no sense.
Something about him reminded her of the big bad wolf rubbing his hands with
pleasure, not that he was literally rubbing his hands; it was more in his gaze.

It was dark and very hungry.

The notion was ridiculous because she was
no little red riding hood. She was a grown woman and successful businesswoman
at that. He was her business acquaintance. It was all above board, nothing
lecherous.

She shook her head and turned to leave.
Silly thoughts weren’t helping. She needed to go on another date with Heath. He
was the type of guy she should be thinking about. If she were preoccupied with
thoughts of Heath, Derek would no longer dominate her fantasies.

At least that was her theory.

“Feel up for a game of pool?”

She turned back and wondered at his game.

“I should head home.”

“It’s not nine yet.” He gestured to the twinkling
stars above them. “It’s a beautiful night.”

“I know but—“

“Come on. You know you want to.”

She flushed. Had he figured out her guilty
thoughts? “I’ll even spot you a handicap.”

She grinned. The offer awakened the
competitive side of her. She thought of the hours she’d spent in her mother’s
family room and the antique billiard table where her father first taught her
the game.

“I’ll give you a three game handicap.”

“Well, I don’t know,” she said as if
uncertain. She knew she shouldn’t let him assume but it was too easy. Did she
not look like a pool player?

“Come on. Let’s go to Finn’s.”

“I don’t know.”

He sensed her capitulation and grinned. He
leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Think of it as a belated birthday
treat.”

She started at the reminder of her birthday
resolution and need for change. She felt his warm hand at her back through the
thin jersey dress and all thoughts disintegrated.

While Finn’s Bar and Grill was seedy enough
to be interesting, the design wouldn’t grace the cover of Hospitality Design.
There was a distinctive flavor to the place with its dark lighting, low metal fixtures
centered above each table and the brick walls decorated with assorted signage. Derek
ordered them Coronas then pulled her across the sticky floors to a secluded
table, tucked in an alcove away from others. He began to rack the balls.

She picked a pool cue, the weight a
familiar comfort in her hands.

“This one okay?” She didn’t want to give
away her game too early.

He reached for it, tested its weight and rolled
it on the table to check for warping. “It’s fine.” He handed it back, his smile
so sexy, she almost whimpered.

“Now for the basics. You want to relax.” He
leaned over the table, demonstrating while he spoke. “Hold your fingers like
this as the base for your cue stick. Slide the cue along your base before
striking the white cue ball.”

She bent forward, braced her hands on the
edge in imitation.

“Keep the motions smooth,” he reminded her.

“Like this?” She felt sort of mean but didn’t
stop.

“Yes.” Derek stood behind her. She felt his
heat and shivered in reaction.

“You cold?” His big hands settled on her
shoulders, the touch electric, making her nipples hard. He massaged her, kept the
pressure light and she closed her eyes in pleasure. She wanted to drop her head
and arch back in invitation but didn’t.

“Better?” He smoothed her arms from shoulder
to wrist and up again. Each pass raised the fine hairs on her arms. He pressed
forward and caged her in until he positioned them behind the cue ball.

In that moment, she understood why so many of
her sorority friends had played dumb during college when it came to pool. They
hadn’t cared about
learning,
the lure had been this
illicit pleasure.

So much for graduating summa cum laude,
she’d been an idiot.

While she’d dominated men, showed off her
skills and earned their respect, her sisters had soaked up their attention. Had
she known the pleasure of a man’s arms wrapped around her while he slid the cue
back and forth, she might have played dumb as well.

“Ready?” She caught a hint of peppermint he
was so close.

She turned her head and met his chocolate
colored gaze. The color reminded her of her weakness for the decadent
sweetness. She licked her lips. His gaze tracked the wet trail. It made her
want to do it again but she didn’t, knowing what happened after she indulged
when she knew she shouldn’t.

Guilt.

But this sort of guilt couldn’t be erased
with an extra exercise session. Tempting Derek would be unwise even if she
wondered how he’d taste.

She swallowed and nodded.

“You want to look down the pool cue and visualize
a target on the ball.” He wrapped himself around her and her girl parts danced
with excitement.

“Pull back, still keeping your eye on the target,
and accelerate through.”

The cue ball struck the rack of balls and a
colorful explosion ensued from the point of contact.

“That opening move is called a break,” he
said while she watched a striped yellow fall into a corner pocket.

She stood and he followed more slowly, his
body brushed against hers.

“Nice. Thank you.”

He stepped back, his movements slow as if
he was reluctant to move away.

“Now it’s still your turn since you got one
in. Remember to aim for all the striped balls while I’ll focus on the solid
colored balls. But whatever you do, don’t pocket the eight ball, the black one,
until you pocket the others or you’ll scratch.”

She nodded then remembered she wasn’t
supposed to know the rules. “What’s a scratch?”

“That’s when you lose and I win.”

Anabelle eyed the purple striped ball, stroking
the pool cue back and forth. The slow and rhythmic motion captured Derek’s
attention.

“That’s perfect Anabelle,” he said with a
rough voice.

She turned and eyed him. “Let’s make this
interesting, shall we?”

“What do you want to play for?” He looked
interested even though he didn’t seem to see her as competition.

Poor Derek.

She tried to dredge up some sense of guilt
but couldn’t. He ought to have known better than to presume she wasn’t capable.

“I win, you donate an item for the charity
auction. You win, you name your forfeit.”

His eyes lit up and his smile turned
downright smug. He seemed to think it was a sure win and she turned away before
she laughed out loud.

“Anything I want, right? A kiss?”

She turned back and met his eyes. “Even a
kiss…if you want.”

“Oh, I want.” With a carnal look in his
eyes, he towered over her, braced for battle. He looked intense, all dark and
sexy, channeling his “A” game that she was almost sorry she was going to hand
him his ass, because she was.

She hadn’t lost a game of pool in ages.

“Deal?”

She held out her hand and he enfolded her
smaller hands in his.

“Deal,” he said but didn’t let go
immediately. She felt his work roughened hands and resisted the urge to smooth
his calluses. He had man hands, big and hot, the kind of hands that had never
had a manicure. To this day, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t suspected Gavin was
gay. Who got his and her manicures? Derek’s hands were polar opposite of
Gavin’s and she liked them.

He looked into her eyes as if trying to
figure out her angle. She didn’t have one. She liked to win and wanted to beat
him.

Anabelle walked the table perimeter, judged
the distance and angle of the next shot, moved into position and sank her
target.

Derek hissed and she slid her gaze towards
his.

“I think I’m being hustled.”

“I never said I couldn’t play.”

A heavy silence descended between them
before he narrowed eyes at her. “No. You didn’t, did you?”

“By the way, I don’t need the three game
handicap.”

“No, you don’t.”

While he studied her, she rounded the table
and assessed the next shot. She aimed, drew back and powered through, neatly
sinking the blue striped ball in a side pocket.

“Never assume.” She stood and blew the
chalk from the tip like a gunslinger at high noon.

With a wicked smile, he stalked her around
the table. “Winner takes all.”

“Okay, but no crying when you lose.”

“I’ll try not to.” He smile was fierce,
almost feral smile. The kind of smile that would have made her run if not for
the strange adrenaline that pulsed through her. She took a swig of her Corona.

“I haven’t lost in years. You don’t have a
chance.” Poking the tiger was fun.

“You sure about that? I’ve got plans for
you so I’m more motivated.” He stopped at her side and slid a finger down her
cheek while he stared at her lips. She ignored his provocation and pushed away,
confident in her skills.

She was going to win.

She maneuvered into a cut shot position and
he lifted a brow in challenge because it was a difficult shot to make. His gaze
slid down the front of her dress and she squirmed. As she pulled the pool cue
back, she wondered how much she displayed in the little black dress Charlie had
forced upon her. Big mistake because the shot she’d perfected since grade
school bounced off the rail and missed the pocket.

“Fudge.”

“Maybe a little less cocky and a little
more focus, huh Anabelle?”

She growled under her breath, annoyed at
her lapse and stood. A solid wall of man greeted her.

“My turn,” he drawled and winked. “Brace
your self.”

He set her aside, moved around the table,
and studied the game like a man on a mission.

Derek made quick decisions and sank three
solids in a row. With each resounding thud, she felt less certain about the
outcome. The irony had her shaking her head.

Time for a little
distraction.

She looked at his upcoming shot and sat on
the edge of the table with her cue between her knees. Derek paused by her side
and she stifled a grin. “You putting up a roadblock?”

“Maybe.”

“I see. Guess you’re not above a little cheating?”

She shrugged. “I think of it as ensuring
your donation to a worthy cause.”

“Right. It has nothing to do with losing.”

“Absolutely not. You like a challenge, I’m
providing one.” She settled in place. “In fact, make this shot and you can name
an extra forfeit.” She grinned. There was no way he could make it with her in
the way.

“Regardless of whether I win the game or
not?”

“Yep. A completely separate deal.”

“Deal.” He stepped closer, brushed against
her and crowded her to get into position. The spicy scent of him surrounded her
and because she couldn’t help herself, she took a forbidden breath.

Maybe this hadn’t been the best plan.

She straightened, her posture rigid, and avoided
any unnecessary touching yet he had no such qualms. Derek took delight in
torturing her. He leaned in, his shoulders brushing the front of her dress, and
the contact drew out her nipples, evidenced by the shamefully hard tips.

A moan escaped before she could control it.

He turned abruptly and sought her gaze. His
hot gaze singed her and she licked her lips in response.

“You do what you have to do, and I’ll do
what I have to do.” With that he took aim and struck the ball with a hard
motion. The force propelled the ball to strike its target, and sent it against the
opposing rail before ricocheting back to the pocket adjacent to her.

“Incredible,” she breathed. That shot
required more than basic skills.

While her heart thundered in her chest, he took
his time uncurling to his full height. She watched as he put his pool cue on
the table, careful to keep it separate from the remaining balls in play. With a
determined look in his eyes, he caged her within the circle of his arms. She
shrank back, her balance precarious because she didn’t want to fall onto the
green felt.

“Time to pay up, hot shot.”

His eyes smoldered, the intensity within
them demanded her response. She couldn’t remain still and shifted against him,
keeping her knees together lest he catch her aroused scent.