Tall, Dark and Filthy Rich

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His shoulders stiffened. “Then maybe we should talk about this. There are…events I don’t discuss with any…”

As his words trailed off, the tension ramped up between them. Jessie swallowed. Hard. She knew exactly what things, what events Cole was referring to.

She returned her hand to Cole’s arm. “It’s okay. I’m not going to talk about events.” She’d be thrilled to never think about what had happened that night. Ever. “Some stories are best left in the past,” she said, hoping her voice was reassuring.

His eyes met hers. Searched hers. Jessie forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, those ladies want the kind of dirt they can tease you about. Something embarrassing from high school. Like falling out of your seat in second period or getting caught passing notes in class. Maybe I should tell them you actually wore pajamas on pajama school spirit day.” Which had never happened.

His shoulders relaxed and his upper lip lifted in a half smile. “I don’t think they’d believe you.”

“I don’t think they would, either.”

The heat of his gaze faded, and his eyes turned hazel once more. He shifted his shoulders, and his body language became neutral. The barrier had returned. There was a detachment about Cole. There always had been. Oh, he was more at ease around people now, his “hands off” attitude more toned down. But it still lingered. That was probably why the women in his office took so much pleasure in teasing him. That article gave them the right tool to find a chink in his heavy emotional armor.

Jessie didn’t like barriers. Not anymore. They could hurt people. Her line of work was all about breaking barriers down. Discovering why someone needed those barricades. She didn’t like this newest wall Cole had just planted between the two of them. “Where can I get a copy of that article everyone was talking about?”

Cole turned and drew her back onto the sidewalk. “Forget it,” he said.

She tugged her sunglasses onto her nose and cautioned herself that the warm hand at the small of her back was some alpha male show of courtesy.

“You might as well give it to me. I’m a private detective, after all. I have my ways, you know.”

“You’ll just have to use them. I’m not about to make this easy for you.”

She wouldn’t want it any other way.

He led her to a building with a large sign proclaiming Latitude 33. Before Cole could even open the door, Jessie heard the low roar that could only be a crowd enjoying happy hour. She stepped inside. Yes, definitely a sports bar. Rows of televisions playing football, soccer, baseball and golf littered the place. Decorations representing every conceivable sport hung from the ceiling, draped over doorways and lined the walls. From the back of the room she heard the break of pool balls on one of the six green-felt-covered tables.

And the tempting smell of nachos. Her mouth watered.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to find Eve. “So, what do you think?” she asked.

“Wow. It’s like man heaven.”

“You haven’t even seen the upstairs. That’s where they have the interactive games. You can try your hand at golf or the batting cages. Nothing like slamming a ball into the wall to relieve a little stress. It’s actually a lot of fun.”

“Just don’t let that secret out on your show or men might start thinking sports bars are the perfect setting for proposals, birthdays and anniversaries.”

“Good point. Ah, there’s Nicole. She was finding us a table. I’ll introduce you to everyone else. And they can’t wait to meet you.” Eve glanced toward Cole with a playful smile. “We’re having a bet on who can get the best story from you about Cole.”

He rolled his eyes, but took the ribbing good-naturedly.

“You should be worried,” Jessie warned him. “I can be bought. Maybe you giving me that article doesn’t sound half-bad now. You know I can do some damage to you.”

JESSIE WAS RIGHT. She could do a lot of damage to him. Ever since the word fling had come from her beautiful mouth, he’d been trying not to picture her naked. Although that was just an excuse. He’d been picturing her naked since he’d spied those sexy legs of hers in the conference room.

This was not the awkward, innocent girl from his past. This was a woman who was smart, knew what she wanted and didn’t make a man look twice at her, because no man would be fool enough to take his eyes off her in the first place.

This evening had become sweet agony. Sweet because she fitted into his network of colleagues and friends so easily. Over the past hour they’d laughed, ate and generally enjoyed each other’s company. Agony, because he couldn’t get his mind off the potential softness of her lips. Or that spark of sexy mischief in her dark brown eyes. Or how she shifted in her seat, providing him a new, painful glimpse of her thigh. It should be illegal for this woman to wear short skirts.

In public, he amended. With him, in private, she could wear or not wear whatever she damn well wanted to.

He watched as Eve laughed about something Jessie had said. Jessie drew him. Looking back now, he realized she probably always had. Any number of people could have helped him with his Latin. Any number of people weren’t the police chief’s daughter, and yet still, he’d needed her company. He’d been attracted to her openness and giving spirit before. Jessie had always reminded him of sunshine.

But now…

Now the hints of what could happen in the darkness joined her sunny promise. Suddenly he wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in a long, long time. And it was futile. Like the tense of those Latin verbs she used to help him with, everything about this situation was imperfect. The past was the past. He’d been an idiot to bring it into the present.

Anyway, it didn’t matter, because he had to get out of there. A new hell was starting in the bar. Karaoke.

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.’”