Tempted. Kimberly Van Meter
thrill of the chase?” she suggested coyly as the bartended pushed her drink toward her. She rewarded him with a blinding smile and a modest tip.
“I don’t see you chasing anyone,” he pointed out, watching as she lifted the glass to her lips. “I see it the other way around. But something tells me, that’s your game.”
It was true. Harper rarely chased—she snared.
“Okay, Mr. Observant...what else do you see?”
The minute she threw the question out there, she knew it was a mistake. Teagan was sharp. There was something about him that cut through the haze and pushed away her carefully constructed web. He wasn’t in a rush to fall all over her and that wasn’t something she was accustomed to, either.
Teagan grinned, amused at her rash response. “You sure you want me to answer that?”
Actually, go ahead and forget I said it.
She graced him with a patronizing smile. “Darling, I can’t wait to hear what you think you see after knowing me for a total of fifteen minutes.”
Teagan swiveled on his chair to face her directly. She sucked in a tight breath as her heart rate quickened, but she held her smile. To her surprise, he reached for her hand and turned it over to observe her palm.
Was he psychic or something? Her smile turned wary. “What are you doing?”
“Shh...”
He lightly traced the faint lines in her palm, sending shivers rioting up her forearm.
“Am I going to be famous?” she teased, if only to quell the racing of her pulse at his touch. “Is this your schtick? Hey, baby, let me tell you your future?”
He graced her with a charming smile and released her hand.
“Well?”
Good God, she could still feel the heat of his fingertips sliding across her skin. Harper absently rubbed at her palm to stop the sensation.
“You, Harper Riley, are a man-eater.”
“And what makes you say that?” she asked, trying to play off his observation as if humoring him.
“Because your hands are soft as a baby’s behind, which means you rarely lift a finger to do much work. Your manicure is perfect, not a single hangnail in sight. Your hair is gorgeous, which means you take the time to have it styled regularly, and your body... Well, you and I both know your body is toned, taut and flawless, which tells me you take care of yourself religiously. Why else would a woman put so much effort into being perfect? Unless she was on the hunt. We men may be stupid but some clichés are true.”
Harper scoffed at his assessment. “Or it could mean I have good genes and I like to work out because it feels good. Besides, who said I was perfect?”
“I’m not finished,” he said, gesturing to her heels. “Expensive designer shoes, a dress that fits like it was made for you, diamond earrings and a Louis Vuitton bag that probably cost more than a small car. Now tell me you’re not on the prowl.”
He was not only right, he was shockingly eagle-eyed for a man.
Was he gay? “How do you know anything about women’s clothing?” she asked. “Do you have a thing for expensive bags and shoes?”
He leaned in, his voice tickling her ear. “I’ve had a few girlfriends with expensive tastes...and I pay attention.”
Danger, Harper, a voice whispered.
The last thing she needed was a man who knew how to pick up on subtle cues. What if he caught on to her plan with Stuart?
She couldn’t afford to mess around. Harper needed that payday.
But their gazes locked as if tethered. Her will to cut the contact faltered in the pull of those gorgeous eyes. The man had won the genetic lottery. Handsome without being pretty, rugged without being ill-mannered. Yes, Teagan was dangerous, indeed.
“I think I’m going to call it a night,” she announced, rising from her seat.
“You haven’t finished your drink.”
Finally breaking their gaze, Harper said, “I think I’ve had enough. Good night, Mr. Carmichael.”
And then, with the effort it took to walk calmly from the room, Harper thought her heart might explode from her chest.
Only when she was safely in her room did she release the shaky breath caught in her lungs.
Teagan was everything she didn’t want—so why had it been so hard to ignore him?
THAT WENT SMASHINGLY TERRIBLE, he mused with a wry twist of his lips.
Not only had he chased away two women, he was left with the crazy impulse to follow Harper to her room like a damn stalker.
Clearly she wasn’t interested, right?
No, Teagan didn’t buy that act. Harper was into him, but for some reason she didn’t want to be.
He didn’t like drama or baggage. Hell, he had enough of his own to bother with without dragging someone else’s aboard.
So if Harper wanted to run, he wasn’t about to chase her.
Sounded good in theory.
Sounded damn good.
Except, he was already formulating what he might say to her when he showed up at her door.
Maybe words were the problem. Maybe he ought to just kiss her senseless.
Harper looked as if she needed a little something in her life to muss up that perfectly styled hair.
She was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but he wanted to see her, no makeup, bed head, and in shorts and a T-shirt.
Preferably over breakfast.
That’s the liquor talking, bud. Slow your roll.
Probably true.
He had just enough alcohol in his system to lower his inhibitions, but this whole thing was outside of his comfort zone.
Remember the good old days when you just hooked up with someone at the bar and if things worked out you started the dialogue?
Now he was on a singles cruise. If that didn’t feel like geriatric dating, he didn’t know what did.
He didn’t have the same kind of luck as J.T., meeting the love of his life when she walked into the hangar to hire him.
Forget the part where she almost got them killed. Hey, no one’s perfect.
And maybe if he wasn’t in a bit of a drought, he wouldn’t be fixating on Harper.
Yeah, that was it. It was the drought’s fault.
For the past year and a half, his life had been consumed by Blue Yonder. Trying to keep the business afloat had been harder than either he or J.T. had anticipated.
You know it’s bad when you have to choose between buying toilet paper or food because if you buy both, bills weren’t going to get paid.
Hell, he’d even considered reenlisting.
Thankfully, J.T. had talked him out of that temporary insanity. He had no interest in the soldier life anymore. That was a young man’s game.
And although J.T. liked to remind him that they were neither old nor unfit for duty, both Teagan and J.T. had become accustomed to the luxuries of civilian life.
So, about that drought.
Teagan tried to think of the last time he’d dated.
It took a minute—probably longer than it should