Take Me Deeper Read Online Free

him. She was seeing things. She was letting life make her desperate and scared, and if there was one thing she hated, it was being desperate and scared, especially when she’d been both for far, far too long.
    Partway through pouring a whisky for yet another customer, she glanced over at the table again, a purely reflexive movement, and found the guy staring back at her.
    Shock jolted down her spine, sharp and electric, while fear grew claws and dug into her chest.
    Oh, shit. It
was
him, one of Shaw’s goons. Had Shaw somehow found out where she was? Had he put this guy on to her?
    Trying not to look as panicked as she felt, Iris glanced back down at the drink she was pouring as if nothing had happened. Luckily she hadn’t managed to spill anything, though her hand shook as she pushed the glass over the bar to the customer.
    What the hell was she going to do?
    Stupid question. There was only one thing she really could do, and that was to get out now while she could. She turned, scanning for Frank, all ready to plead a bathroom break so she could escape out the back window, when someone said, “Iris Callahan?” The voice was deep, masculine, and very cold.
    Automatically Iris turned back.
    There was a man standing at the bar. She had a vague impression of height and broad shoulders and dark hair, but all the details seemed to fade away as she met his gaze. His eyes were a shade of intense blue that could only be described as electric and for some reason they made all the air rush suddenly out of her lungs. It was like plunging into an icy river on a blisteringly hot day.
    She blinked, trying to remember what it was exactly that he’d said because she’d be damned if she could remember. Also, there was something about having to leave urgently for…reasons…
    The man’s eyes narrowed, giving her a sweeping glance that made her abruptly aware of the haphazard ponytail she’d put her hair into earlier that day that was probably coming down now. Of the tight white T-shirt Frank liked her to wear, with the deep V-neck and the beer stains on it from when a customer had accidentally tipped his bottle over, splashing her. Of the fact that the red bra she was wearing showed through the white T-shirt, which was the whole point of wearing it—or so Frank said. Yeah, she had the whole trailer-trash look down.
    He took all of this in and she had the impression that he’d noticed every single little detail about her and was filing it all away for future reference. She’d never had a man look at her with such focus before. It was unnerving. And she’d just started to blush—a miracle all in itself since she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually blushed—when he looked away in a dismissal so complete it was like he’d struck her. “Come on,” he said in that deep, cold voice, the slightest hint of impatience edging it. “Are you Iris Callahan or not? I haven’t got all day.”
    Her hackles rose in instant dislike. “Who wants to know?” she asked, not bothering to hide her hostility. Frank would kill her for being so rude to a potential customer, but right now, she didn’t care.
    That icy blue gaze came back to hers, focusing suddenly and intently.
    It felt like he’d wrapped his hands around her lungs and was squeezing what little air she had left out of them.
    She blinked again, awareness of the rest of him slowly filtering in. His closely cropped dark hair was military short, framing a face that was lean and tanned, with a hard jaw, high cheekbones, and a nose as straight as a blade. Revoltingly good looking in other words, if you liked that kind of thing of course.
    He was tall, over six two, broad shouldered yet long and lean, and she had the impression that beneath the beautifully tailored dark blue business shirt and black suit pants that sat low on his narrow hips, there lurked the coiled, sleek muscular strength of a panther.
    A panther? Really?
    She almost blushed again at her own ridiculousness.