Something Wicked. Angela Campbell

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СКАЧАТЬ the guy who sent you the beer—the one who thought to himself, ‘I think the most beautiful woman in the world is in this room, and I’d like to talk to her.’”

      Oh, mercy, that was both the best and the worst pickup line she’d ever heard. He had a sense of humor as well as being sexy. She liked that.

      She tilted her head and feigned concern. “Have you seen a doctor?”

      His eyes widened. “For what?”

      “Multiple personality disorder. I think you have it.” She smiled to let him know she was only teasing. And she gripped the cue tighter to keep from doing something ridiculous like ripping his shirt off. “Here’s a hint, Casanova. Guys who talk about themselves in third person tend to come off as a little bit crazy.”

      He leaned so close his hot breath teased her face as he tried to stifle a laugh. “Good point. And I’m a jackass. I haven’t even asked your name.”

      “Alexandra.” She held out her hand. “And who will I be crushing in this game tonight?”

      The warmth of his fingers against hers was stimulating. “Name’s—”

      The sound of wood knocking against wood startled them both, and Alexandra sprang away. Derby Hat Guy had moved to the cue rack and was purposefully knocking the sticks against one another. He stopped when Mr. Delicious turned around to inspect the noise.

      “I thought we were gonna have some fun with the rascal!” complained her newest dead friend. “Come on, already. Let’s play!”

      Ghosts. They could be so annoying.

      ***

      “You know, they claim this place is haunted.”

      Dylan Collins leaned against his pool cue and watched as his enticing opponent lined up her shot perfectly—and abruptly banged the white ball against the left side when the words left his mouth.

      She swore softly and sighed. “You don’t say.”

      He shrugged and moved to take his first shot, regretful he no longer had a good view of her cleavage as she bent over the table. She’d already sunk a number of the balls. The woman knew her way around a billiard table. “I don’t believe in that stuff, personally. If that’s your thing, Charleston has a ton of ghost tours.”

      “Hmm.” Her concentration seemed off as she frowned slightly, gazing toward the wall. Maybe she was like him and thought the whole Haunted Charleston spiel was just a gimmick to attract tourists.

      Change the topic, dumbass. He didn’t want to scare her away or make her think he was a paranormal freak when he wasn’t.

      He couldn’t believe his luck in luring a beauty like her over here. He circled the pool table and lined up his cue with the ball.

      His favorite way to unwind from a bad day at work was to come to the Southend Brewery for a beer, a game of pool, and a game on one of the TVs above the third-floor bar, but he’d never seen a woman like this one here. Usually the women he attracted at bars were young, more than a little tipsy, and as sexually aggressive as sailors turned loose in a whorehouse.

      His partner on the force liked to think of them as cop groupies, although Dylan never advertised the fact he was with the North Charleston PD before he decided to take one home. Besides, Reedus was wrong. Usually in this part of the city they were either co-eds or tourists looking for a little naughty fun before returning home to their mundane lives or boyfriends or husbands or whatever. Didn’t matter a bit to them that he wore a badge. They were more interested in what he didn’t wear.

      But this one, there was something different about her.

      Older than his usual pick up, definitely. He’d guess early 30s.

      Lifting his gaze from the end of his cue and toward the blonde across from him, he drank in the sight of her curvy figure. The ball soared forward and clanged against two others that drifted into the corner pocket. He wouldn’t stretch his credibility by saying she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, but she was close. She had something else too that had caught his attention from across the room before he’d ever glimpsed her pretty face. The way she carried herself. Confident. Classy, even in jeans. Two traits he found sexy as hell, and then to come to learn she was smart and funny, too? Hot damn.

      Normally he went for petite brunettes, but he wouldn’t mind a change of taste sampling this leggy blonde for a night or two. Especially tonight, when he needed to erase thoughts of the case that had been eating him up all day.

      Was she willing to help him with that?

       Let’s find out.

      First, he had to sink the rest of these balls to impress her. He took his time finding the right angle—oh yeah, he could nail three in one shot from here—and made a show of leaning over, sliding the stick through his fingers, oh so slowly, and then snapping forward with just enough finesse to hit his target in the right spot. The white ball clanged against the orange No. 5, sending it into a corner pocket, then spiraled toward both the green No. 6 and purple No.4.

      The white ball abruptly took a sharp detour to the left, missing his remaining targets completely.

      What the-?

      Alexandra’s eyes and mouth were wide open, probably a match to his own expression. She blinked and shook her head. “That was…a little weird, huh?” Red began spreading from her neck up through her face.

      He scratched at the hair on his head. “Yeah, weird.”

      “You sank the five though. Uh, good job. Still your turn.”

      “Right.” He bent to find his next shot, narrowed his eyes and spotted three balls clumped together near the middle pocket. That might get him at least two scores. He slid the cue forward then jerked it back when the white ball began slowly rolling toward the left.

      He straightened and grabbed the white ball, picked it up and felt its weight in his hand. Damn thing felt normal. He glanced at the woman standing on the other side of the table, her hand now covering her mouth and her eyes glistening with amusement.

      She lowered her hand and placed it on her hip. “Are you trying to cheat?”

      “What? No. Hell, no. Didn’t you see that? The ball moved—” He bit back a curse and put it where it was before.

      He sat his bridge hand on the table, kept his angle smooth, and struck it this time.

      Almost every ball on the table rolled out of its way as it bowled forward. It banked off the corner pocket and fell in.

       What the—?

      He reached a hand out over the table. Had someone turned the air conditioning on full blast? Was there a vent he couldn’t see?

      He didn’t feel anything abnormal.

      Instead of the impressed cheer he’d been soliciting, he was rewarded with feminine snickering. “Smooth,” Alexandra said, pushing him out of the way. “Let me show you how it’s done, hot stuff.”

      She backed her ass СКАЧАТЬ