Outrageous. Lori Foster
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inside his body clenched. “I’m making it my business.”
Digging in her heels as he tried to haul her through the front door, she forced him to slow down. She was wide-eyed again and he noticed her mouth was hanging open as he dragged her into the bar. “What are you doing?”
There was a note of shrill panic in her voice as she took in her surroundings. Judd had no time to explain, and no time to consider her delicate sensibilities. Everyone in this part of town thought of him as a money-hungry, oversexed, willing exhibitionist—Clayton Donner included. It was a necessary cover and one he wasn’t ready to forfeit. Donner would show up again soon, and once he decided Judd was a familiar face in the area, the gun dealer would make his move. It would happen. He’d make it happen.
Still gripping her arm, Judd trotted her toward the nearest bar stool. “Stay right here.” He stared down at her, trying to intimidate her with his blackest scowl. The music was picking up tempo, signaling his cue.
She popped right back off the seat, those eyes of hers accurately portraying her shock. “Now see here! I have no intention of waiting—”
He picked her up, dropped her onto the stool again, then called to the bartender. “Keep her here, Freddie. Make certain she doesn’t budge.”
Freddie, a huge, jovial sort with two front teeth missing, grinned and nodded. “What’d she do?”
“She owes me. Big. Keep your eye on her.”
“And if she tries to pike it?”
Judd gave Freddie a conspiratorial wink. “Make her sorry if she so much as flinches.”
Freddie looked ferocious, but Judd knew he wouldn’t hurt a fly. That was the reason they had not one, but two bouncers on the premises. But the little lady didn’t know that, and Judd wanted to find out exactly what she was up to. Gut instinct told him he wouldn’t like what he found.
Suddenly the spotlight swirled around the floor. Cursing, then forcing a grin to his mouth, Judd sauntered forward into the light. Women screamed.
In the short time he’d been performing here, he’d discovered a wealth of information about his gun dealer…and become a favorite of the bar. The owner had promised to double his pay, but that was nothing compared to the bills that always ended up stuffed in his skimpy briefs. He refused, absolutely refused, to wear a G-string. His naked butt was not something he showed to more than one woman at a time, and even those exhibitions were few and far between. But his modesty worked to his advantage. The women customers thought he was a tease, and appreciated his show all the more.
As he moved, he glanced over his shoulder to make certain the lady was still there. She hadn’t moved. She didn’t look as though she could. Her eyes were even larger now, huge and luminous and filled with shock and disbelief. He held her gaze, and slowly, backing into the center of the floor, slid the zipper down on the leather jacket. He saw her gasp.
Her intent expression, of innocence mixed with curious wonder, annoyed him, making him feel more exposed than he ever had while performing. That he could feel his face heat angered him. He was too old, and too cynical now, to actually blush. Damn her.
Purposefully holding her gaze, determined to make her look away, he let his fingers move to the top of his pants. As he slowly unhooked the fly, one snap at a time, teasing his audience, teasing her more, she reeled back and one dainty hand touched her chest. She looked distressed. She looked shocked.
But she didn’t look away.
* * *
Oh, Lord. Oh, Lord. This can’t be happening, Emily! It’s too outrageous. There can’t possibly be a large, gorgeous man peeling his clothes off in front of you.
Even as she told herself she was delirious, that the scene in front of her was a figment of her fantastical imagination, Emily watched him kick off his boots, then with one smooth jerk, toss his pants aside. She wouldn’t have missed a single instant of his disrobing. She couldn’t. She was spellbound.
Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she heard the crowd yelling, urging him on. He looked away from her finally, releasing her from his dark gaze. But still she watched him.
He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Raw, sexual, but also…gentle. She could feel his gentleness, had felt it outside when she’d first walked past him. It was as if she recognized he didn’t belong here, in this seedy neighborhood, any more than she did.
But they were both here. Her reason was plain; she needed to find out who had sold her younger brother the gun that backfired, nearly causing him to lose an eye. He would recover, but that wouldn’t remove the fact that he’d bought the gun illegally, that he was involved in something he had no business being involved in and that he would probably be scarred for life. Emily had to find the man who’d almost ruined her brother’s life. She couldn’t imagine what kind of monster would sell a sixteen-year-old a gun—a defective gun, at that.
Her parents refused to take the matter to the police. Luckily, John had only been using the gun for target practice, so no one even knew he had the thing. And more important, no one else had been hurt. When she thought about what could have happened, the consequences…
But that was history. Now all she could do was make certain that the same man didn’t continue selling guns to kids. She had no compunction about going to the police once she had solid evidence, enough that she didn’t have to involve her brother.
Her parents would never forgive her if she sullied the family name. Again.
Her heart raced, climbing into her throat to choke her when the officer—obviously not an officer—started toward her. She couldn’t take her eyes off his bare, hair-brushed chest, his long, naked thighs. The way the shiny black briefs cupped him… Oh God, it was getting warm in here…
Well-bred ladies most definitely did not react this way!
There were social standards to uphold, a certain degree of expected poise… The litany she’d been reciting to herself came to a screeching halt as the man stopped in front of her.
His eyes, a fierce green, reflected the spotlight. He stared directly at her, then moved so close she could smell the clean male fragrance of him, could feel his body heat. And God, he was hot.
Panting, Emily realized he was waiting for her to give him money. Of all the insane notions…but there were numerous dollars sticking out of those small briefs, and she knew, with unwavering instinct, he wouldn’t budge until she’d done as he silently demanded.
Blindly, unable to pull her gaze away, she fumbled in the huge pockets of her worn coat until her fist closed on a bill. She stuck out her hand, offering the money to him.
Wicked was the only way to describe his smile. With a small, barely discernible motion, he shook his head. She dropped her gaze for an instant to where his briefs held all the cash. She’d watched the women put the money there, trying to touch him, but he’d eluded their grasping hands. He’d played up to the audience, getting only close enough to collect a few dollars, then dancing away.
She didn’t want to touch him.
Oh, what a lie! She wanted to touch him, all right, but she wouldn’t, not here in front of an audience, not ever. She was a respectable lady, she was… She squeaked, leaning back on her seat as he put one hand on the light frame over the bar, the other beside her on the bar stool. She was caged in, unable to breathe. She could see the light sheen of sweat caught in his chest hair, see the small, dark tuft of fine hair under his arm. It seemed almost indecent, and somehow very personal, to see his armpit.
Her body throbbed with heat, and she couldn’t swallow. He stood there, demanding, insistent, so very carefully, using only her fingertips, she tucked the bill into his shorts. She registered warm, taut skin, and a sprinkling of crisp hair.
Still holding her gaze, he smiled, his eyes narrowing only the slightest bit. He leaned