Veil of Night Read Online Free Page B

least he hadn’t got pissy about her rejection, which upped Eric’s opinion of the young patrolman.
    She wasn’t waiting for anyone, and she wasn’t looking to get picked up. Hell, maybe she was simply a woman who’d wanted a drink. He could relate to that. Not the part about being a woman, but wanting a drink was definitely relatable.
    Eric turned his attention to his beer, studying the amber liquid for several long minutes. He should probably finish it and head home. The last thing he should do was waste any more time trying to figure out what a woman was thinking, even a woman with world-class legs and a drool-worthy ass. But—“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath as temptation grabbed him by the dick and hung on. He slid from the barstool, grabbed his beer, and headed toward the classy, expensive complication.
    Out of her peripheral vision, Jaclyn saw another man approaching. She could hope that he wasn’t really headed her way, that he was on his way to the men’s room which was just past her table, but it certainly seemed that he was walking directly toward her. He had a drink in his hand, so she was almost certain he wasn’t going to the restroom. Why couldn’t a woman stop after work for one drink without men—some men, anyway—assuming she was willing to be picked up? At least the first guy had been decent, taking himself off without an argument when she’d said no, so she could only hope this guy would do the same. She purposely didn’t look his way, hoping he’d take the hint and keep moving.
    “Small world.”
    The two words jarred her, because they weren’t what she’d expected. She looked up, her cool expression still in place, but when she recognized the man standing in front of her her mind kind of went blank for a minute. She never sputtered, but she came damn close to it as she mentally scrambled for something to say, and what finally came out was a far cry from the stone-wall dismissal she’d planned. “Don’t call me ma’am again,” she said, her eyes narrowing in warning.
    The cop smiled, that same slight but humorous curve of his lips she’d noticed before, and something in Jaclyn unwound. There was something real about him, a straightforwardness that didn’t scream pickup or any other kind of game playing—and, damn, he was fine. That description seemed to be the best she could come up with. He wasn’t handsome, but all her hormones and little chemistry receptacles or whatever were sitting up and paying attention. They were saying Man! in all the best ways. She wasn’t the type to moon over a man, and God knows she’d never been a giggler or much of a flirt—much—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a man’s body and face, if he had a body and face worthy of appreciation.
    This cop had both.
    She found herself giving him a small, rueful smile in return, and explained, “It’s just … on a bad day, being called ma’am by someone near my own age makes me feel old. You have good manners, and I shouldn’t hold that against you.”
    “I hope your day improved after you left city hall,” he said.
    “Not really.” She had to crane her head back to look up at him. The dim lighting in the bar, and the shadows his position created, kept her from getting as clear a look as she’d like at his features, but her memory was good. She’d known he was tall, because with her heels she was about five-ten, and he’d still been three or four inches taller than she was. She liked the breadth of his shoulders, the mature and muscled depth of his chest. Her memory provided a too-sharp sensory image of how hard and warm his body had felt against hers in that brief moment when they’d collided, and she mentally shied away from the intimacy implied.
    Her hormones didn’t know their collision had been an accident; they just knew they had liked her contact with this man’s body. She might have felt this sharp a physical attraction before, but at the moment she