She regarded him with something amazingly akin to defiance. He could see it in the subtle thrust of her chin and the small fists balled at her sides.
“You didn’t need to come to my rescue,” she responded tightly.
Her accent was Southern, but not Louisiana Southern.
“I could have controlled the situation.”
“It didn’t look like that from where I was sitting,” he told her. Hell, he didn’t expect her to fall into his arms and kiss him with gratitude, but it annoyed him that she couldn’t so much as say thanks. She owed him that. She could at least show him the courtesy of civility.
“You could have hurt him.”
Was that censure he heard in her tone? “Excuse me?”
Her hands moved to her hips. “The broken bottle would have allowed me to make a quick, gracious exit. There was no need for you to hold it against his throat and incite a fight.”
His blood pressure went up a notch or two. “I prevented a fight, sweetheart.”
“Not from where I was sitting,” she returned in a near-perfect imitation of his drawl.
“This is crazy!”
“No,” she countered. “You’re crazy.”
She breezed past him as if he was nothing more than a minor annoyance. A gnat she might swat, had she been so inclined to donate some of her precious time.
The few men who still lingered parted as if she was royalty. Of course, given the regal way she swayed her tight little derrière, it didn’t surprise him. It just made him madder than hell.
“Wait a minute!”
Her step faltered at his thunderous command but she still pushed the door open and walked out into the night. He should just leave this alone. Chalk it up to a good deed for which he would eventually be rewarded. But he didn’t feel much like waiting for eventually. She owed him, and he believed in collecting on his debts.
Depositing the broken bottle on the bar as he strode by, Conner stormed after her. Like it or not, the woman was going to get his short lesson on manners.
Cool, fresh air welcomed him as he stepped from The Grill. It took him less than a second to find her. It was easy. He simply followed the chirping sound made as she disarmed her Lexus in the dark parking lot.
She really is slumming, he grumbled inwardly as he jogged over to her car. He got there just in time to see her settle in behind the wheel and blocked the closing of her car door with his body.
When she angled her head up at him, Conner felt his annoyance double at the exasperation he noted in the tiny lines at the corners of her full lips.
“Stop being a jerk,” she warned, impatient.
“A jerk?” he parroted.
“Okay,” she amended, batting her long lashes at him. “Stop being a complete asshole.”
Her condescension didn’t bother him so much as her voice. This woman had a cultured cadence, the kind of speech pattern learned only in the finest schools. It was the kind of speech that didn’t usually include the names and expletives she had so easily tossed at him.
“If I’m such an asshole, how come you’re looking to get laid in a dive like this?”
She blinked once. “And who told you I was looking to get laid, as you so coarsely put it?”
“Why else would a woman like you come to a place like this?”
“For a beer?” she suggested.
“Were they all out at the country club?”
“I’ve got news for you,” she said as she reached for the door handle. “I don’t belong to any country clubs, but I do enjoy a beer now and again.”
“I would suggest you enjoy it someplace other than here.”
“Oh, I get it!” she said in a breathy, sarcastic rush. “This is one of those quaint ‘men only’ places.”
“You could say that.”
She gave him an exaggerated dumb-blonde sigh. “Gee, I guess I should have checked the corners of the building for urine. Isn’t that how most lower animal species mark their territory?”
Conner chuckled. She was quick. “Would you have liked it better if I would have let ol’ Frankie have you?”
“Frankie would not have had me.”
“There’s not a whole lot of you, sweetheart. That bottle trick would have protected you for a while, but not forever. Frankie and his friends would have seen to that.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But I still believe I could have handled it myself.”
Placing his palms on the polished roof of the fancy car, Conner leaned down. The red interior of the car smelled new. She smelled fresh, like the air after a shower.
“I’m willing to concede that you might have been able to pull it off, if you’re willing to concede that it was damned neighborly of me to intervene on your behalf.”
Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks. The action caused his body to respond with alarming speed. Her skin was pale, flawless, and slightly flushed from the cool evening air. She was a tiny thing but the word “vulnerable” didn’t even enter his mind.
She hesitated, then said, “Okay. Thank you for being neighborly, Mr.—”
“Conner Kavanaugh. Conner to my friends.”
“Mr. Kavanaugh,” she said. A small smile curved the corners of her mouth.
“And you are?”
“About to leave,” she answered, gently tugging on the door.
Ignoring the feel of metal against the backs of his calves, Conner remained planted in the spot. “I’d like to know your name. Telling me would be the neighborly thing for you to do.”
“I guess I’m just not as neighborly as you are.” Some of the annoyance had returned to her eyes.
“I don’t know,” he drawled. “You impress me as a lady with potential.” Conner gave her his best grin. The one that had talked his fair share of women out of their panties.
She looked as volatile as a fast approaching tornado. “Potential?”
He nodded. “Knew it the minute I set eyes on you.”
The lips he’d been admiring pulled into a tight smile.
“I get it. You’re under the impression that since you defended my honor—so to speak—I’m now fair game?”
“I’m game if you are,” he teased, hoping to get her to lighten up.
“I hate to disappoint you,” she said in a tone that told him she didn’t mind disappointing him at all.
“I wasn’t interested in spoils,” he insisted.
“And I’m not interested, period.”
“Sure you are,” he told her without conceit. “Or your eyes wouldn’t be flickering between my face and my—”
“My eyes have not flickered.”
Her voice was stiff and haughty. Still he sensed just a trace of wariness behind her brave words. The lady wasn’t as immune as she was letting on. That knowledge filled him with a hefty dose of male pride.
“Suit yourself. But I’d be right flattered if they did.” Conner moved and she closed the door. She surprised him when she lowered the window.
“You’re either desperate or a bigger jerk than I originally thought.”
“Careful, sweetheart,” he said as his fingers reached out to brush the soft underside of her chin. Her skin was silky soft and he wondered what the rest of her body felt like. He also wondered why she hadn’t so much as flinched at the contact. Perhaps this lady liked games. Specifically the “convince me” game. “You don’t want to hurt my feelings, do you?”
“I really don’t give a flaming hoot about your feelings, Kavanaugh.”
His fingers traced the delicate outline of her throat until he encountered the edge of her collar. His eyes followed his hands, inspiring all sorts of fantasies.
Then he heard an unmistakable click.
His gaze moved toward the sound. His fingers stilled as he found himself looking down the barrel of a small-caliber gun.
“Take your hand off me,” she said calmly.
The fingers gripping the gun were as steady as her gaze. Conner wondered how he had managed to get himself into
such a mess. So much for chivalry, he thought as he slowly pulled his hand back. He knew the answer; he’d been thinking with the wrong part of his anatomy. Stupid.
“Do you always use a gun as persuasion?” He was careful to keep his tone conversational. Apparently she didn’t like that. He could tell by the flash of surprise in her eyes. She must have thought her little Annie Oakley moment would have had a more intimidating effect. Of course, he still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t shoot, but he’d gnaw off his own tongue before admitting that to her.
“If you’ll recall, Kavanaugh, I asked you nicely first.”
“I guess I wasn’t listening right,” he said, stepping away from the car.
He heard her start the engine. She propped the gun on the window frame. Her eyes never left him. Not for an instant.
“Perhaps in the future you’ll remember that no actually means no.”
About the Author
After selling her first work of romantic suspense in 1993, Rhonda Pollero has penned more than thirty novels, won numerous awards and nominations, and landed on multiple bestseller lists, including USA Today, Bookscan, and Ingram’s Top 50 list. She lives in South Florida with her family.
Also by Rhonda Pollero
Knock Off
Knock ’em Dead
Fat Chance
Slightly Irregular
Bargain Hunting
No Returns
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