Hard Justice. Lori Foster
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“Really,” Fallon said, a little irate. “Was that necessary? I’m here because I want to visit with people.”
“Not those people,” he said, and he downed his beer in one long impressive swallow.
Digging in, Fallon insisted, “Any people I choose,” and she, too, tipped up her beer.
Then almost gagged.
She swallowed the big gulp rather than spit it back into the glass, then stuck her tongue out. “Gak. That’s awful.”
Justice looked at her, then grinned. “Did that quench your thirst?”
Her face still scrunched, Fallon hunted through her purse for a mint. Unfortunately she didn’t have any.
Justice pushed the glass toward her. “Take another sip. It’ll help.”
“I’ll vomit.”
He chuckled. “Nah, you won’t. Trust me.”
She did want to learn, so she held her nose and sipped. It wasn’t quite as bad since she’d taken such a small taste.
Wearing a lopsided smile, Justice asked, “Better?”
She shook her head, continued to hold her nose, and drank again. This time, Justice put a finger at the bottom of the glass and held it there, encouraging her to keep drinking.
When she’d finished it, she burped, covered her mouth and blushed.
He laughed. “There you go.” He held up two fingers, and a minute later a very pretty waitress carried over two more beers.
Fallon eyed them with disgust, until it dawned on her that Justice had just given the woman money. “I need to pay for the drinks.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
She snickered. “You said the same thing to my mom.”
“Did I?” He settled back and watched her.
“No one, ever, has said anything like that to her. It cracked me up.”
His expression warmed. “You already feelin’ that beer?”
“No.” She did feel sleepy though. Holding her nose once more, she again drank, but this time she sat back so Justice couldn’t reach her drink. “At least it’s cold, huh?”
For such a big guy, he looked awfully gentle as he smiled at her. “So what’s the plan? Can you enjoy yourself without hitting on a thug?”
“Thug?” she asked. “Who?”
“Either one of those yahoos at the bar. That first kid was looking for trouble, and the other guy lives trouble.”
“So neither one was safe?”
Idly turning the beer, he surveyed her, then shook his head. “Looking like you do, not sure anyone in here is safe. At least, not to daddy’s standards.”
Making air quotes with her fingers, Fallon mimicked his voice and said, “Daddy’s standards.” She started laughing and couldn’t stop. “That’s so funny.”
“You think so?”
When she nodded, her vision swam, so she held her head. “Yes. Dad really is outrageous.”
“How come? I mean, what’s he so worried about?”
She clammed up, unwilling to give too much away. “We’ve only lived here a short while—” like a year “—and he’s unfamiliar with the area.”
Justice pushed her drink toward her again.
She dutifully sipped before looking around. “People are dancing. I want to dance.”
Wary, Justice straightened and surveyed the gyrating bodies on the floor. “I don’t know...”
But she’d already stood. She took one last drink of her nasty beer, then started for the floor.
Justice caught her hand.
Wow, another revelation. For such a big man he had a very gentle hold.
He released her. “Stay where I can see you.”
With a sharp salute, she said, “Yes, sir.”
She loved to dance but rarely had the opportunity, and never in a place like this. Here, in the boisterous crowd, no one would pay any attention to her.
That is, no one except Justice, because he never took his gaze off her.
SHE’D DRUNK ONLY two and a half beers, but Justice had a feeling that was two beers too many for little Fallon Wade.
“Dance with me,” she’d asked early on.
“I don’t dance,” he’d lied the first time.
Half an hour later, she’d asked again. “Dance with me.”
“Not in my job description.” He’d felt like a prick after saying it, but hoped it’d keep her from asking.
It didn’t.
“No one else is dancing with me,” she complained.
A few guys had tried to sidle up to her.
Justice had stared hard enough to send them all packing. In MMA, he’d learned the value of a really confident, mean, nearly tactile stare. There were times he’d won a fight before it ever started, just with his stare-down.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just enjoy yourself.”
“I feel foolish.”
“You shouldn’t.” A woman like Fallon stood out from the others, but in a good way. “Trust me, lots of guys are looking.”
“Really?” She glanced around. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Gospel truth.” He crossed his heart.
Laughing, she rejoined the dancers.
Admittedly, Fallon looked a little lonely. All around her, people brushed against once another but never came within two feet of her.
Several times, the urge to join her burned in his blood.
He couldn’t help thinking of her moving against him, the scent of her skin and how soft she’d feel. Twice he’d even gotten to his feet. But he held back.
The things he imagined with her were already taboo enough; he wouldn’t cross the line in deed, as well.
So instead he kept his vigil—and tortured himself with carnal fantasies inspired by the rhythmic roll of her hips and the sway of her torso.
Repeatedly, Fallon returned to the booth to sip on her beer. Halfway through the third, she pronounced her words too precisely, a deep flush stained her cheeks, and her dark eyes had that glassy look. Hoping to discourage her, Justice scooted the remainder of the drink to the other side of the table.
It was nearing midnight when some random dude, no doubt guided by liquid courage, caught her in his sights.
Justice read the intent in his gaze, but Fallon, still dancing, remained oblivious.
When the guy elbowed one of his buddies, then pointed her out, his friends started egging him on.
Justice couldn’t really blame the guy for trying.
The prim clothes and overprotective upbringing hadn’t stifled Fallon’s sensuality. Nope, that came out loud and clear in the way she moved.
The guy had almost reached her when Justice stepped into his path. “Don’t,” he growled into the idiot’s startled face, and the guy literally