Slow and Steady Rush Read Online Free Page B

Katherine coming?”
    “She had to work. Too many cases on the docket for morning court.” Darcy completely understood but missed being able to borrow a portion of her best friend’s unrivaled confidence.
    Logan wandered to the opposite end of the bar to give the servers their instructions, and she tentatively took another swig. This one went down smooth, and before she knew it, bare ice tinkled in the bottom.
    Someone fired up the jukebox, and a pulsing beat underlay the increased buzz of conversation. A different bartender checked on her. “What’s your poison, sweetheart? Logan told me to take care of you. Anything you want.” Insinuation flavored the words, but his eyes were guileless.
    “Long Island tea, please.” She pushed the glass toward him.
    With a boyish grin that had probably gotten him into many a patron’s panties, he said, “Yes, ma’am.”
    She drained the fresh drink, and the man replaced it without comment. The door opened every few seconds, belching groups of two or three. As she sipped, she observed the easy camaraderie and recognized several people. A group of popular women, who had been popular teenagers in high school, bunched around two tables close to the dance floor and attracted a fair amount of male attention. But no one approached her, and she felt invisible—in a good way.
    Then he walked in. Dear God in heaven, she hadn’t exaggerated his blatant masculinity. Thick blondish hair settled in wavy clumps as if his routine involved fingers and not a comb. A red T-shirt this time. Nothing special except in the way the cotton spread over broad shoulders and tucked messily into a pair of broken-in jeans as if the shirt begged for some woman to pull it out … and maybe even off. Damn, he was hot. Tongue-lolling, fantasy-inducing, panty-dropping hot.
    He scanned the room. Choosing his conquest for the evening? She was surprised none of the women raised their hands and yelled “Pick me, pick me!”
    She took another sip and snorted. Although there was no way he could have heard above the din, his gaze stripped away her cloak of invisibility. In a loose-limbed amble, he approached. Several men stopped him to chat, but there was no question as to his ultimate destination. His gaze flicked to her even as he replied to them.
    Heat prickled her scalp, burned down her face, through her body, and finally banked in her lower belly. Then, he was there, standing a few feet in front of her. Close enough to bask in his maleness and become high on the tang of his cologne. Her inhibitions dangerously low, her knees parted a few inches.
    Keep it between the damn lines . She clamped her legs together and swiveled back to the bar. He took the stool at her side. Well-worn denim brushed the skin above her knee sending a small shiver down her leg. A beer landed in front of him without a word to the bartender.
    She tapped her fingers on the bar and waited for him to say something, anything. He had stalked her from across the room and had taken the seat next to her. Nothing. What kind of game was he playing?
    She opened with an eloquent, “Hi,” and immediately felt like an idiot.
    His cutting gaze, expressionless face, and lack of response dampened her uncomfortably potent lust. The man could at least be freaking polite. They were in Alabama not New York, no matter what she was drinking.
    She poked him in the arm. “I said Hi . By the way, I was going to make you a blackberry pie. Maybe even pick the berries myself, but not now. No sir-ree.”
    He turned and braced his legs wide, nearly encasing her. His finger hooked around the neck of the sweating beer, and he took a drag. The muscles of his throat worked, and she swallowed in response. The beer bottle landed back on the bar with a thump.
    “Why would you make me anything?” he asked in a tight, suspicious voice.
    “That’s what a good neighbor does. It was for taking care of Ada, maybe for the snake thing, but you can forget it. You’re not even