Lucky Kiss

by Melanie Shawn

  “Damn.” Chris pounded his fist on the table. “Again.”

  Finally.

  Lucky had been waiting for two hours while Deanna had taken each of her coworkers down one by one. After he’d seen her first shot, it hadn’t surprised him at all that she’d won the next ten games. What had surprised him was that, every time another challenger stepped up, they seriously thought they had a chance of winning.

  She was good. Pool-shark good. It also didn’t hurt that, from his count, she’d had one beer. One. While her competitors were at least four, five beers deep. As the night had worn on, her wins had come easier than taking candy from a baby. Though her skill was impressive, the thing that stood out the most to him was her focus.

  Every time she lined a shot up, the intensity in her attention to aim had the song “Eye of the Tiger” playing in his head. Nothing caused her to break, and her opponents had definitely given it the ol’ college try. She was in beast mode, and it was sexy as hell.

  “I’m done, rookie,” Chris announced as he hung up his pool stick.

  “You were probably just having an off night.” A mischievous grin pulled at Deanna’s perfect lips as she waved goodbye to her latest victim.

  “Another one bites the dust,” Lucky chuckled as Chris went to the bar. Then he stood from his stool, grabbed the pool rack, and started gathering the balls.

  “What are you doing?” Deanna froze while returning her cue to the wall mount.

  “I called the next game,” he said casually.

  “No you didn’t,” she said, calling him on his lie.

  “You’re right. I didn’t.” Placing his hands flat on the table, he lifted his eyes to hers in challenge. “I didn’t want you to throw the game because you’re too scared to play me.”

  Actually, he’d been biding his time, waiting for his chance to play her without an audience. Patience had never been a virtue he’d possessed. When he wanted something, he went after it full steam, so it hadn’t been easy.

  He’d also been rolling the dice and betting that she wouldn’t tap out first and leave. Thankfully, both his diligence and his gamble had paid off. They were the only two people left in the secluded pool area, and they still had a half hour until last call.

  Now he had to hope her competitive spirit would override her hesitance to spend time with him. All night, she’d made it clear that she wasn’t impressed by him and had no interest in him or anything he had to say. She’d basically ignored him to the point that it was painful.

  Deanna’s left eyebrow arched and his heart rate kicked up as he waited for her answer.

  Finally, she set the bottom of her cue back on the ground and shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

  “We’ll see.” Lucky played along, keeping the fact that she couldn’t be more wrong to himself.

  He didn’t give a shit if he won or lost a game of pool. Spending time with her was his endgame, and she’d agreed. That was a check in the W column in his book. What would’ve killed him was if she left.

  That would’ve been his funeral.

  Deanna lined her shot up as he chalked the tip of his pool cue. His eyes traveled from her long, delicate fingers up her slender arms, over the curve of her shoulder, and up the sexy slope of her neck.

  She paused with her arm drawn back for a moment before jerking it forward and sending the balls scattering across the green felt with a crash. Two stripes sank, one in a corner pocket and one in the left center.

  As she rounded the table, she assessed her best move. The second her decision was made, she zoned in.

  “Ten in the corner pocket,” she called as she bent at the waist only a few inches from him.

  Lucky’s jaw clenched and his fingers tightened around his cue stick at the mouthwatering sight. He had to press his mental mute button on the groan of male appreciation her appetizing position inspired.

  He might’ve spoken to soon. This very well could’ve been his funeral, because she was killing him.

  From the second she had walked into the bar, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Not because she was dressed provocatively like eighty percent of the females there. It was the opposite. She was wearing a faded blue Waves sweatshirt and Converse sneakers, and her blue jeans were worn in all the right places. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and other than maybe some lip gloss, he couldn’t detect a drop of makeup on her naturally beautiful face.

  She was so gorgeous, so effortlessly sexy, that he’d been completely captivated since the second she’d shown up. But things had stepped up a notch about an hour ago when she’d ditched the sweatshirt, revealing a simple, grey T-shirt that fit snugly across her chest and his pole had been trying to erect itself ever since.

  “So, what happened to the Barbie bookends?” she asked after she’d easily made her shot. “Is pool not really their game?”

  “I told them I wasn’t interested and they should move on to a sure thing,” he explained.

  As she straightened, she shot him a look clearly conveying that she thought he was full of it. “Right.”

  Shrugging, he said, “I did.”

  Even though she nodded, she wasn’t buying it. “It sure looked like you were interested when I showed up.”

  A smile slowly spread on Lucky’s face. He’d thought for a split second he’d seen the good ol’ green-eyed monster rear its ugly mug in his green-eyed girl when she’d first seen him with the “Barbie bookends.” But it’d vanished so fast that he wasn’t sure. Now, he was.

  “Oh, is that what it looked like?” He leaned against the wall, enjoying this moment far more than he probably should.

  Deanna’s posture stiffened, and her lips pursed. “Thirteen, center pocket.”

  She aimed, shot, and missed.

  All night, the guys she’d been playing against had given her a hard time. They’d teased her mercilessly. Not once had Lucky seen her react. She’d brushed everything off like she was a Swiffer duster. Never getting flustered. Never so much as a flinch to show that anything they’d said had gotten under her skin.

  Knowing he could affect her—when no one else had—filled him with more satisfaction than earning his latest belt had. He was happy to find out that the feeling was mutual because, since the second he’d laid eyes on her, she’d been more than under his skin. She’d been on his mind, in his thoughts, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew her somehow. It was seriously driving him crazy.

  Taking his time, he walked in a circle around the table. He knew exactly what shot he was going to make, and he was ninety-nine percent sure he could make it. But he wanted to draw out this time with Deanna as long as he possibly could.

  “Any time now would be good,” she muttered, which only made him want to tweak her more.

  He stopped in front of her so that they were toe-to-toe. Her eyes lifted to his, and when their gazes met, the only sound he heard was the soft sound of her breaths coming in short pants. A flicker of interest smoldered in her emerald gaze, and Lucky wanted to turn it into a raging inferno.

  “Sorry.” He licked his lips as Deanna’s eyes fluttered. “I don’t rush. I like to take my time.”

  She sucked in a breath, obviously picking up on the sexual undertones he’d purposely infused in his words.

  The key to winning any match was to know when to advance and when to retreat. Pacing. That was key.

  Turning back to the table, Lucky brushed his knuckles across the soft, smooth skin of Deanna’s shoulder and felt like a kid who’d rubbed his feet on the carpet and then touched something to get shocked. Except this jolt wasn’t painful. The second they touched, skin to skin, the sweetest shock of bliss exploded through him.

  “Four in the corner pocket.” Lucky was happy to note that, as he leaned over, a shudder ran though her.

  When the ball fell in the pocket he’d predicted, he stood and moved to the other side of the table. This time, he missed his shot. On purpose. He wanted this game to last as long as possible.


  “Why don’t we make this more interesting?” he asked as he chalked his cue.

  “I don’t bet my hard-earned money.” Her jaw set—he’d struck a nerve. And not a good one.

  “Not money. If I win, you let me take you out to dinner.”

  She didn’t answer as she lined her cue up. Then she called her shot. When she made it, she stood back up and leveled him with her stare.

  “And when I win?”

  He grinned at her emphasis of the word when. “That depends. What do you want?”

  The cue slid through her fingers several times as she aimed and called her shot. Before taking it, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “That’s the thing. I don’t want anything from you.” Her gaze remained locked with his as she sank the four into the right corner pocket.

  As she stood, it was her turn for a slow smile to spread across her face. He returned the smile as she made her way around the table to line up. When she bent over the table, he waited a beat before leaning down, hovering just above her but not touching any part of her.

  Then he whispered beside her ear, “You’re a much better pool player than you are a liar.”

  *

  The warm heat of Lucky’s breath fanned down Deanna’s neck as his raspy voice vibrated through her, causing her to melt faster than the Wicked Witch of the West. Both sensations were so overwhelming that it took her a moment to comprehend his words. When she did, her body stiffened and Lucky moved away.

  Her reaction had nothing to do with his being right. It had everything to do with the method in which he’d chosen to call her out on her less-than-honest reply to his upping-the-stakes request. He was playing with her. Which was fine. He was a player, so that would be like being shocked that a lion roared or a dog barked. That’s what they did.

  What had made her body tense was her reaction to being a pawn in his game. She knew guys (better than she wanted to), so it was always easy for her to peel away their layers of BS, sift through their real intentions, and not get swept up in the emotion of things.

  But, when his body’s strength had surrounded her, when his lips had brushed against her outer ear, it had been game over for her brain. There was no peeling. No sifting. She’d bypassed logic and dived right into the lust pool.

  Trying to regain her footing, she stared at the ball she needed to sink and took her shot. She missed, of course.

  It took a lot to throw Deanna off her game, and Lucky was a lot.

  “Hey, bro. It’s about to be last call. Can I get you two anything?”

  Deanna turned to see the male bartender approach them.

  “I’m good, thanks.” Deanna had finished her obligatory beer a couple of hours ago.

  “Deanna, this is my brother, Levi. Levi, this is Deanna,” Lucky said.

  That’s right; she just remembered the guys mentioning that Lucky’s brother lived in town and owned a bar. This was the only bar in town, but she hadn’t put two and two together.

  “Nice to meet you,” Levi said as Shelby joined them. “Have you met my wife, Shelby?”

  “I did. Hi,” Deanna said to Shelby.

  She hadn’t known that the two were married, but now, the combustible heat they created every time they looked at each other made sense. All night, she’d noticed it from across the room, but if she’d been closer, she would’ve needed goggles like welders used to protect herself from the sparks that were flying off the two of them.

  “Yes, we met, and can I just say, the way you handled those guys tonight? Per-fect-ion,” Shelby said, overemphasizing each syllable.

  “The girl can play some serious pool,” Lucky agreed.

  A blush heated Deanna’s cheeks. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention like this. And when she was, jabs and insults were usually coming her way, not compliments.

  “I’m sure she can, but those weren’t the guys I was talking about.” Turning towards Levi, Shelby rested her hand on her husband’s forearm as she beamed up at him. “This girl handled those frat boys who have been an issue for the past couple of nights.”

  “Really?” Levi said, sounding impressed.

  “What frat boys?” Lucky asked at the same time. He sounded a lot less impressed and a lot more defensive.

  “It was nothing.” Forget the blush—this conversation was going to give her full-blown hives.

  “No, it wasn’t nothing. It was awesome,” Shelby disagreed as she shook her head. Shifting her attention to Lucky, she explained, “We’ve been getting complaints that these three jerkoffs have been asking women to show them their tits. When we confront them, they say they didn’t say anything and play all innocent. So, tonight, I was keeping an eye on them, and sure enough, Deanna walked by and those jack-holes asked to see her tits.”

  “They did.” Lucky’s tone was calm. Deadly calm.

  Deanna looked over at him and saw that his knuckles were white from gripping his cue so hard.

  What the…

  Shelby continued on. Either she was oblivious to the distinct change in her brother-in-law’s demeanor or she just didn’t care. “Yeah, and you should’ve seen their faces when she said, ‘Okay.’”

  “You said, ‘Okay’?” Lucky didn’t sound so calm anymore as he directed his loud inquiry towards Deanna.

  Shelby tried to interject. “No, you have to hear the rest—”

  But Deanna cut her off, staring straight back at Lucky. “Yeah, I did.” She didn’t need anyone to defend or excuse her actions.

  “She said she would show them right after they whipped out their dicks. It was priceless,” Shelby said, finishing the story.

  “What if they would’ve done it?”

  “They wouldn’t have,” Levi and Shelby chorused in unison.

  Lucky was stock-still, glaring directly at Deanna, and she glared right back.

  If he thought he was going to win this staring contest, he was sorely mistaken. Just because Levi and Shelby, who seemed like really nice people, were stuck in the crosshairs of the stare-down, that didn’t mean Deanna was going to back down. A natural disaster could strike and the world could be crumbling around them, but she still wouldn’t be the one to break eye contact first.

  “Okay, well, on that awkward note, I’m going to go and close out.” Shelby hugged Deanna and whispered, “Sorry. I didn’t see that going down like this.”

  “No worries,” Deanna assured her as she gave her a one-pat hug, her eyes still laser-locked with Lucky’s.

  “Let me know if you guys need anything else. It was nice meeting you, Deanna.” Levi sounded amused as he followed his wife back across the bar.

  “Nice meeting you too.” Deanna lifted her hand, but still held her determined gaze.

  After several seconds, she lost her patience.

  “If you have something to say, say it,” she snapped.

  If he thought he could lecture her, he had another think coming. She was a big girl—she didn’t need some playboy fighter telling her how to conduct herself.

  No matter how sexy he was.

  As Lucky inhaled deeply through his nose, his face relaxed. Then the sides of his mouth turned up and a glint appeared in his stare.

  “Does the same offer apply to me?”

  His question and change of attitude caught her so off guard that her mouth fell open and she laughed. Shaking her head in the negative, she answered between giggles with a firm, “No.”

  “Why not?” he asked innocently.

  Deanna didn’t answer for two reasons. First: he knew exactly why not. If she made him that offer, he’d have no problem whipping it out. Second: she was actually tempted to give him that offer for that very reason. She usually wasn’t all that interested in seeing that sort of thing, but the thought of seeing Lucky’s how-do-ya-do was popping all kinds of X-rated images up in her head. They were especially anatomically correct because she’d seen so much of him in her Internet research.

  She knew all about his tattoos: an eagle in the center of his chest, an angel
on his right shoulder blade and a devil on his left, Dorsey written across his stomach. His muscled, rippling stomach.

  Just the image of what she already knew he was working with, was enough to give her more hot flashes than Grandma Irma had suffered while going through menopause.

  For a split second, she thought about changing her answer out of pure, unadulterated, lusty curiosity. But, since it had killed that cat, she didn’t take her chances. Instead, she made quick work of finishing the game.

  As she navigated the table, calling and making one shot after the other, she tried not to look in Lucky’s direction. Not because he was distracting, which he was, but out of sheer self-preservation.

  Tonight, she’d been more off-balance than the first time her mom had made her wear six-inch heels to a fashion show when she was eight. During the show, she’d been wobblier than a baby giraffe trying to take its first steps. It was exactly how she’d felt from the second she’d seen Blondie One and Blondie Two hanging on Lucky’s arms.

  Throughout the night, she’d actually been proud of her ability to pretend he didn’t exist. It had been an exercise in not only mental strength, but emotional and physical as well.

  Mentally, it had taken everything in her power to keep her focus laser-pointed to the pool game she had been playing instead of the chaos she was feeling because she was that close to Lucky.

  Emotionally, he broke down every barrier she’d carefully put in place. As the night had worn on, the more stories he’d told, the more interactions he’d had with the guys, the more she’d started to like him as a person.

  He was so different than who she’d made him out to be after her trip down the Google rabbit hole. His persona was a playboy partier who lived life on the edge. Tonight, the Lucky she’d seen was funny and smart, and he actually listened, which was more than she could say for most men—and women—she knew. When the guys had been talking about calls they’d been on or their families, Lucky had seemed genuinely interested.

  And physically…

  Blowing out a puff of air, she lined her winning shot up and tried to concentrate on sinking the eight ball.

  As she stared at the table, her mind wandered. She didn’t even know where to start with physically. Every time he spoke or laughed, chills and goosebumps broke out on her skin. His voice was deep and soothing, calming and arousing, rough and smooth. If he could bottle it, men who had absolutely nothing going for them could pull tail like they lived in a mansion and had the last name Hefner.