Her Last Temptation. Leslie Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ and flip it over to remind her of the big diamond ring she’d been flashing in here since her engagement to some salesman. But she couldn’t blame her. Engaged or not, any woman would look twice…or dozens of times…at a man like this one.

      Then he turned his attention back to Cat. His full, unwavering attention. “Hi. I’m your entertainment,” he finally said, his voice low and intimate though she’d swear laughter danced behind his eyes.

      “You’re very good,” she replied matter-of-factly.

      A dimple flashed in one of his lean cheeks. “You haven’t seen what I can do yet.”

      “Wild guess,” she mumbled, her mind filling with possibilities of just what he could do. She had to give herself credit—only half were X-rated. Well, maybe sixty percent.

      “You won’t have to wait for long to find out,” he said, his tone as suggestive as her words had been.

      Oh, boy, did that set her heart flip-flopping in her chest.

      Her expression must have given away her thoughts. His brown eyes darkened to near black and he leaned closer, both elbows now resting on the bar. “You sure you’re gonna be able to handle it?”

      She raised a challenging brow. “You think you’re that good? That you can’t be handled?”

      “I’ve been known to shake the walls when I get going.”

      Cat grabbed the edge of the bar to steady herself and took a deep breath. She should walk away, ignore the comment, pretend she’d misunderstood.

      She did none of the above. Instead, even though she knew she shouldn’t step farther into the fire, she threw a spark right back at the solid stick of dynamite watching her with promise in his eyes. “I’ve been known to rattle a few walls myself.”

      His cocky grin faded and his jaw tightened a bit. Tie game. She’d definitely gotten under his skin, just as he had hers. Then he managed, “So you play, too?”

      “Not lately,” she admitted.

      Nope, she hadn’t played with a man in a very long time. Not since last year, when she’d briefly dated a rodeo cowboy, whose lack of finesse in the saddle had been equaled only by his lack of staying power.

      He’d lasted about three-and-a-half minutes. They’d lasted about three-and-a-half dates.

      “What instrument?” he asked.

      The words, “a thick, eight-inch one is my preference,” came to mind, but she bit back the reply. This game had gotten a bit too reckless for a woman who’d sworn off guys with trouble written all over them. This one was the absolute Yellow Pages of trouble. “Um…”

      “I somehow see you as a sax woman.”

      Her mouth dropped open. She was definitely a sex woman, which she was being reminded of with every passing second. But, lord, he’d skipped right past the subtle innuendo, hadn’t he?

      “Or maybe clarinet?”

      Her brow shot up. “You mean we were talking about musical instruments?”

      “Of course.” He managed to pull off a look of such complete innocence that Cat began to believe she really had misread their conversation. “What else would we have been talking about?”

      Feeling heat rise in her face, she opened her mouth, then closed it, wondering how to gracefully back out of this enormous foot-in-mouth moment. She was about to tell him she was a virtuoso on the kazoo when she saw his shoulders shaking with suppressed amusement.

      “Dog,” she muttered, laughing even as she shook her head in admiration of how well he’d played her.

      “Cat,” he replied.

      “Yes. Cat Sheehan.”

      He nodded. “I know.”

      Interesting. He knew who she was. Which left her at a disadvantage. “And you are…?”

      He paused, a frown pulling at his brow so briefly she almost missed it. Then he admitted, “Call me Spence.”

      She’d rather call him guy-destined-to-be-naked-in-her-bed-by-midnight.

      Not happening, she reminded herself. This is supposed to be the new you.

      The new her might be trying to call the shots in the brain. But the old Cat—the hungry one whose entire body was sparking in reaction to this stranger named Spence—had control of everything from the neck down. Especially the, uh, softest parts.

      Still, even the old, reckless Cat had never done the one-night stand thing. Despite what her sister might imagine, Cat wasn’t that danger-loving. With a man like this one, however, she was beginning to understand the illicit allure of a bar hookup.

      “Hi, Spence. Welcome to Temptation,” she finally said.

      “I like that.”

      “What?”

      “Temptation.”

      Ooooh…definitely her kinda guy.

      “I also liked the sign over your front door.”

      She instantly knew which one he meant—the hand-painted sign inviting those outside to Enter Into Temptation. She’d thought up the logo three years ago when she and Laine had taken over the bar from their mother, changing the name from Sheehan’s Pub to Temptation. “Thanks. Seemed appropriate.”

      “I just didn’t realize it was going to be quite so prophetic,” he added, his tone husky.

      She got his meaning instantly. He was every bit as tempted as she was. A long, shuddery breath escaped her lips. Unable to do much more than breathe and stand still, she stared at him. Right into those fathomless eyes.

      He stared right back, just as intently, neither of them laughing or flirting any longer. They said nothing, yet exchanged a wealth of information. In twenty seconds they covered the basics—yes, they were both interested, and, yes, they were both aware of each other’s interest. But it went deeper…they each knew that they could play games or do away with them right now. Because the palpable attraction made something happening between them inevitable.

      They all but named the time and place.

      Then his lips—God, those lips—parted, and he drew in a long, slow breath of air. His lids lowered slightly, half closing over his eyes, drawing her attention to his long, spiky black lashes. Visceral pleasure accompanied his inhalation, and she realized what he was doing.

      Smelling her perfume. Inhaling it. Savoring it. Gaining sensual pleasure from the aroma of her skin.

      Dangerous. Oh, he was dangerous. Because he was so damned appealing. A man who appreciated a woman’s scent would appreciate so many other delightful things, wouldn’t he? Tastes, touches, sensations.

      Her pulse raced as the thick, heady silence dragged on, in spite of the cacophony all around them. At some point, she noted Julie pushing away and getting off her СКАЧАТЬ