Hot Target. Lisa Renee Jones
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“I know this is difficult, Mr. Winter,” she said in a gentle, almost comforting voice, as if she actually cared how he felt.
She still wouldn’t call him by his first name and for some reason that really set him off. “Luke. My name is Luke.” The woman was driving him insane, and he had known her mere minutes. The last thing he wanted was for her to get close enough to know what really got to him—he needed her gone. Lashing back at her incredible ability to get under his skin, trying to upset her, Luke gave her a quick, intimate, up-and-down perusal meant to stir her anger. It was a look that held an intentionally blatant message—you’d be a great piece of ass. Of course he would never confirm that assessment. She didn’t like him, nor did he want her to like him. He’d chosen a plan and he was sticking to it—she had to hate him.
KATIE CAST Ron a pleading look, silently asking for guidance. In reply, Ron quietly repeated, “He’ll be reason able.”
But in the flash of a second that Katie had looked away from Luke, he’d advanced on her, and she had a feeling it wasn’t because he intended to “behave.” Suddenly, he was standing beside her, the spicy male scent of arrogant, pain-in-the-backside man, invading her nostrils and her space. Trying to regain the composure she rarely lost but that Luke was managing to rattle, Katie remained facing the bar, both palms flattened on the wooden surface. Tilting her chin to the side, she cut him a suspicious look—wondering what he was up to, and he was up to something, of that she was certain.
Covertly, she took in his appearance—she simply couldn’t help herself. It was her first time to see his entire body. And what a body it was. He was dressed casually in snug-fitting jeans and an equally snug black tee, both of which molded ever so nicely to the rippling length of his powerful body. Physically the man was nothing shy of outright impressive. Even his foul mood didn’t take away from the pure maleness of his presence, and the perfection of his athletic body.
With a facade of control that defied her racing heart and the funny fluttery thing in her stomach, Katie dared to give Ron her back as she turned to face her challenger. It was unsettling that she wasn’t as capable of dismissing Luke Winter as she was the rest of the bigger-than-Texas egos she’d encountered in the wild world of professional sports.
She and Luke now stood face-to-face, each with an elbow propped on the bar, neither blinking, a standoff of sorts, one she feared she was losing. His nearness washed over her in a wave of warm, tingling sensations that tested her cool exterior and threatened her mask of aloofness. She was certain she was the one who would break, when something unexpected happened. For an instant, a tiny instant, the arrogance of the big, bad baseball pitcher melted into vulnerability. Taken off guard, Katie blinked and it was gone, replaced by something much different, more tense, almost angry.
He laughed, but there wasn’t any hint of humor in the deeply resonating sound. “I don’t see how you are going to stop anyone from hurting me.” Again he was taunting, and Katie couldn’t help but wonder if he was punishing her for seeing something in him that he hadn’t wanted exposed. He continued his verbal assault, “I believe a large woman could overpower you. A man would easily control you.”
His eyes made a slow, lazy tour down her body and then back up again, blatantly pausing at her breasts. When his eyes met hers again, she wanted to reach over and smack his face. The hand that hung by her side balled into a fist as she willed herself to calm, glaring at him with what she hoped was fire. Not once now, but twice, he had taken the liberty of undressing her with his eyes.
“Ron,” he said in a slow drawl, his eyes remaining on Katie. “Really, now. Let’s be realistic here. She looks more like one of my groupies than a security expert.” His lips twisted. “Then again, she is a beauty. She might be entertaining.”
Ron grunted. Loudly. “You’re out of line, Luke. Enough. You are not only insulting Katie, you’re underestimating her.” Suddenly, Katie was aware of Ron standing to her left, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off Luke. They remained facing each other, glaring at each other. Katie felt Ron’s attention land heavily on Luke. “You really are being difficult, my man. What’s come over you?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Ron.” Luke never took his eyes off Katie. “Why don’t we see what she really can do?”
Suddenly, Katie found herself trapped, her back against the bar, imprisoned by one of Luke’s strong arms on either side of her.
“Luke!” Ron’s angry voice rumbled as if in a tunnel.
Unwilling to be manhandled, Katie considered pulling the gun in her boot and teaching Luke a real lesson but thought better of it. Instead, she pressed her hands to that warm, hard chest and raised a knee, stopping the instant before she made contact. To her satisfaction, Luke’s eyes went wide with the near impact.
“The way to satisfy a man might not always be in his pants,” she said, slowly easing her leg down, her hand staying on that hard wall of muscle, keeping him at a distance. “But right now, it darn sure is mine.”
“So you like to play dirty, do you?” His breath teased as it trickled along her cheek.
His fast, unaffected comment drew a glare from Katie. “You, Luke Winter,” she muttered between her teeth, trying not to think about the way his thighs were suddenly pressed to hers, “are way too full of yourself.” And his lips were way too close, as well. Sensual lips. Full lips. She snapped her attention away from his mouth, irritated at her distraction. “I’m not a groupie or even a fan. Frankly, I think you pitchers ruin the game. It’s boring. Nobody hits the ball.”
“Wait. You think baseball is boring?”
She smiled even before she got the words out. “Just pitchers.” Her hands slid from his chest and she crossed her arms in front of her, silently dismissing him.
“But you think I’m a good pitcher.”
She blinked at the odd comment. “I didn’t say that.”
“I think you did.”
She almost threw her hands in the air. “The point is—I don’t care about your pitching. I’ve dated my pro athlete.”
“Who?”
“Joey Martin.”
“The quarterback?”
“Yes.”
“Ah. I know Joey. Arrogant guy. It’s a quarterback thing. Pitchers are better. But I can see why you’re bitter.”
Exasperated, she exclaimed, “I am not bitter. And back to my point that I never quite made. I’ve dated my athlete. Got the T-shirt and don’t want another. You have nothing I want or need.” Ron groaned in frustration, though neither Luke nor Katie paid him any mind.
With a sizzling, heavy-lidded stare, Luke leaned in close. “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart, and maybe you’ll believe it.” A shiver raced down her spine at the intense look that followed. “In my experience, people scream the loudest about the very things they are running from.”
She laughed in disbelief at the implication. “You think I’m running from you?”
His damnable silver-gray eyes overflowed with challenge. “Aren’t you?”
“If anyone is running,” she countered, poking his chest, “it’s you.”
His gaze dropped to his chest where she’d touched him and so did hers. Something happened in that split second. Tension entwined with attraction and exploded. Heat pooled low in her belly, awareness charging a path along her limbs, tightening her nipples, heart pounding in her ears. Slowly, their eyes lifted at the same instant, colliding in an electric charge of pure, red-hot attraction. It was one of those moments, one of those liquid fire moments between a man and a woman, that could turn animosity into wild, passionate sex.
“That’s enough!” Ron’s voice snapped through the air, and Katie all but jumped at the reminder of why she couldn’t have passionate anything with Luke.