Читать книгу Tall, Dark and Filthy Rich - Jill Monroe - Страница 10

5

THERE WERE TWO THINGS Jessie did really, really poorly in a bar. She couldn’t tie a cherry stem with her tongue and she couldn’t sing karaoke. Why she was expected to do either one, she didn’t know. The first, she probably wouldn’t have to attempt today. The second, well, “The Love Shack” was playing, and Penny wanted to hop on the stage and drag Jessie along with her.

“I’d pay cash money to see Eve up there,” Cole said.

“You’d need a lot,” Eve told him.

He laughed. “I just happen to have a winning lottery ticket.”

“Which right now isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on. And it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“You guys are so boring. I’m going to request ‘These Boots Are Made for Walking.’ Jessie, you’ll sing with me, won’t you?” Penny asked.

“She just agreed to play darts with me,” Cole said, standing.

Jessie turned her head and mouthed “thank you” to him, because her singing voice could clear the room. Cole offered his hand and helped her to her feet. His fingers wrapped around hers.

To be honest, Jessie had always expected to feel some cheesy clichéd sensation, such as a zap of electricity, if he ever held her hand. She was right. It was cheese on top of cheese, because her whole body experienced a high voltage shock thanks to this man’s touch. She wanted to pull away quickly or hang on tighter all at the same time.

She tried to gauge from his expression if he’d felt the same thing, but he was already leading her through the bar to the game section.

Upstairs, the lighting was low, allowing the LED displays on the various games to glow brightly. What would they do? What would they talk about? She was reminded of those times she’d wait for him at the diner. The sole dating advice her mother had ever offered consisted of the woman’s responsibility to keep the conversation flowing. Jessie had been filled with nervous anticipation.

Now she was just curious. Curious about Cole. About his divorce that no one back home seemed to know about. Which probably wasn’t surprising since he had no family left in their hometown of Thrasher.

As a young girl she’d wondered how his lips would feel against hers. As a woman, she wondered what kind of lover he’d be. How he’d use his hands. Stroke or caress? What his skin would feel like beneath her own fingertips. Whether he’d be quick to get—

“Steel-tipped or soft?” he asked.

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

He nodded toward the darts. Good thing the lights were low in here, because she felt an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. She’d gotten a bit carried away with her thoughts.

She could play this off. No problem. “What’s the difference?” she asked, her voice growing husky.

“Soft is best if you’re not as experienced. No one gets hurt with a wild throw. The steel-tipped darts are harder and penetrate the board easier, but are a lot more dangerous.”

Jessie swallowed. Harder. Penetrate. Oh, my. “Maybe we should stick with the soft.” And maybe she should get a grip. What was wrong with her? This was darts. In a bar, for crying out loud. Not everything had to remind her of sex.

He handed her a dart and she smiled in thanks. She gave a quick practice toss, then fired. Missing her target by a mile.

Cole laughed. “You’re really bad at this.”

Jessie laughed with him. “You know what makes it worse? As a P.I., I have a license to carry a gun.”

He groaned.

“Okay, in all fairness, I think the last time I played darts it involved Velcro and I was nine. I’m actually a good shot with a rifle or handgun.”

“I might have to see that to believe it.” He reached for her hand, giving her another dart, and she experienced another jolt. “See those grooves along the shaft? That’s where you want to wrap your fingers. Hold firmly. Try to use your whole hand around the shaft. The more area your fingers touch, the better your control.”

And maybe she should just call “time” and go with the fact that this sounded like hand-job instructions. Or that she might not mind brushing up on her technique with Cole.

Then he wrapped his arm around her, enveloped her in his heat. “Pull back, aim. Release.”

Her dart sailed through the air.

“Bull’s-eye,” he said, his lips just above her ear. His breath a caress.

Never again would she look at darts as anything other than foreplay. She glanced upward, and their eyes met. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she felt her nipples harden. Her lips parted.

Cole dropped his arm. “Here,” he said, handing her another dart. “Try again.”

He didn’t put his arm around her after that, but the atmosphere between them had changed. Intensified.

After playing a full round, they made their way back to the others. Cole didn’t hold her hand now, but kept a steady distance away from her. She recognized his MO: he was in full barrier-building mode.

She was caught. A polite person would back away, respect a man’s right to erect a ginormous emotional blockade between himself and the world. But as she’d acknowledged plenty of times in her career, she was in the barricade-obliteration business, and every obstacle he threw up between them emerged as an exciting challenge.

The rest of their group had migrated from the restaurant side of Latitude 33 and now stood around one of the high tables near the entrance, chatting and finishing their drinks.

“There was a waiting list to get into the restaurant, so we decided to come over here,” Jane told them.

Jessie wondered if Cole would leave now. He’d looked as if he’d planned to bolt when the singing began. But he joined the others at the table, and they made room for both of them. She was glad. Even though she had to be on a case later, she wasn’t ready for the evening to end. Then the sounds of a lone guitar filled the room.

“When did they start bringing in a band?” Cole asked their waitress as she removed some of the glasses and replaced a few beers.

“The owner is trying something new. The lead singer is a friend of his wife’s.”

Cole looked pained but resigned as he turned his gaze back to Jessie. “Do you want something besides juice?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I have to work tonight, and I need a clear head.”

“Speaking of your work, Jessie, I bet you have some great stories,” Nicole said. Jessie hadn’t met her during the taping of the show, but she’d learned later Nicole usually developed the story ideas for Just Between Us.

“Hey, you’re forgetting the rule. No work talk on Thursday nights,” Eve said, her voice filled with laughter.

Nicole stood straighter. “This isn’t work.” Then she smiled. “But if Jessie should happen to tell some sexy story that sparks an idea for a segment, I’m not going to put my fingers in my ears and sing ‘la la la.’”

“A lot of times I sign a confidentiality agreement with my clients, and most of what I do is pretty straightforward surveillance. But let’s just say I have a laundry list of places I won’t have sex, because of my job.”

Eve glanced over at Nicole who gave her a wink. “You were right. This is what I want to hear.”

“Parking lots,” Jessie said promptly. “Plenty of action going on there, believe me. The park after dark, the not so deserted parts of a library. You name it, I’ve seen it.”

“Tell us a really good one,” Nicole invited.

She thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Okay, I’ve gotten so many referrals from this man, it’s hardly a secret anymore. I was hired over the phone to follow around a man’s wife. He suspected she was having an affair with her ‘administrative assistant.’”