The Inconvenient Laws of Attraction. Trish Wylie

had been hard to ignore her presence since she arrived. If there’d been the remotest chance they might cross paths again, he would never have accepted Marty’s usual end-of-the-working-week invitation for a beer and a game of pool in the nearest bar to the restoration project they’d been working on in the West Village. But it was too late now. It was only a matter of time before she crossed the room.

      Bending over to line up his shot, Blake’s gaze was drawn upward by the appearance of distinctly feminine, jeans-clad thighs at the other side of the table.

      ‘Gentlemen …’

      And there she was.

      Sinking a ball into the pocket in front of her before standing upright, he set the end of his cue on the floor, folding his fingers around it as he looked her over.

      American pool halls had once been the exclusive realm of men who smoked cigars and drank beer while they growled and spit tobacco. Young truants cleaned tables and floors, racking balls for new games while they learnt pool hustling and miscreant behaviour. It had been a poor man’s men’s club, devoid of female company.

      Blake couldn’t help thinking it would have been better for Olivia Brannigan if it had stayed that way.

      Because the second his gaze swept over her, he had the exact same reaction he’d had the first time. The tips of his fingers itched to be thrust into her sleek blond mane and mess it up until it framed her face the way it would after a session of the kind of hot, sweaty, mutually gratifying sex he doubted she’d ever experienced. He wanted to set the pad of his thumb on her full lips and smear away any hint of lipstick before he set his mouth on hers, to place a palm to the small of her back, melding her body to his as—

      He took a measured breath. ‘Want to play, do you?’

      ‘So it would seem.’

      There was a brief spark of light in the cool blue of her eyes that suggested a challenge did it for her. The fact she’d answered in a low voice which could easily have been described as sultry didn’t escape him either.

      ‘Reckon you can take me on?’

      ‘I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?’

      Indeed they would.

      ‘Rack ’em up, Marty.’

      While Marty handed over his cue and started gathering balls from the pockets, Blake stepped around the table to issue a low warning. ‘If you’re over here to discuss my luck in the legacy department, you can forget it.’

      ‘Well, I don’t know about you,’ she replied brightly, ‘but I’m off the clock.’

      Looking down at her from the corner of his eye, he saw her check the face of a neat wrist-watch. A wave of softly curled hair hid her profile from him until she lifted her chin and added, ‘As of an hour and ten minutes ago.’

      ‘You’re the kind of gal who’s never off the clock.’

      ‘Maybe you don’t know me as well as you like to think you do.’

      ‘Meaning I should get to know you better?’

      ‘We’re set,’ Marty said.

      Blake held out an arm. ‘Ladies first.’

      ‘Don’t hold back on my account.’

      He leaned towards her as he walked by. ‘Never do.’

      ‘She know what she’s doing?’ Marty asked as he joined him at the bar.

      Time would tell. Since every town had a pool table, they’d been one of the few constants in Blake’s life growing up. He knew a lot of pool was simple physics. Watching men who’d been playing for most of their lives, he knew it was all about the angles, the action and reaction, knowing when to exert a little force and when to use a finer touch. He’d learnt a lot of valuable life lessons from the game of pool. Watching Olivia Brannigan in action turned it into something altogether different: less physics, a whole lot more to do with chemistry.

      Didn’t matter which side of the table she took her shot from, either way it provided the kind of view any red-blooded male could appreciate. When she was on the far side of the table, bending over the cue, it allowed a clean line of sight down her blouse to a hint of coloured ribbon that became the equivalent of an apple in Eden. A side view let his gaze skim over the sweep of her spine, the sweet curve of her ass, down legs that would never have ended if it hadn’t been for the floor.

      As a card-carrying one hundred per cent red-blooded male, his body’s reaction to her was understandable. Unwelcome, considering what she represented, but understandable. Not to mention a timely reminder he’d obviously been all work and no play for too long. Something he would have to rectify, soon.

      Standing upright, her gaze collided with his as she walked around the table with a hint of a smile on her face. Turning, she bent over to line up her next shot, gently swaying her hips from side to side: right in front of him.

      ‘She’s good,’ Marty said appreciatively as a ball ricocheted off a cushion directly into a corner pocket.

      Blake’s silent agreement had nothing to do with her pool skills. Setting his bottle down, he stepped towards her. ‘Hustling me, Liv?’

      ‘It’s Olivia,’ she informed him, twisting on her heel and backing away with a sweet smile. ‘And if I wanted to hustle you, wouldn’t it make more sense to play badly before making a wager?’

      ‘You just popped over here to play a friendly little game of pool with the boys?’

      Standing still long enough to efficiently chalk the tip of her cue with short, sharp movements, she continued walking around the table. ‘Is that illegal?’

      ‘You’re the lawyer. You tell me.’

      ‘I know it’s not in the state of New York.’ She bent down. ‘But I’d have to check the rules for Canada.’

      When another ball disappeared off the table, she smiled a small, satisfied smile as she stood up.

      ‘I’m not talking to you about the will.’

      ‘I didn’t ask you to.’

      ‘You’re going to.’

      ‘You can see into the future?’ A flicker of amusement sparkled in her eyes. ‘Wouldn’t happen to know next week’s lottery numbers, would you?’ She shrugged a shoulder as she walked around the table.

      ‘Not that you need them.’

      ‘You know I can take out a restraining order against everyone at your firm if I have to …’

      ‘Be a pretty long list of names.’

      ‘I’d know who to put at the top.’

      When he set his palm on the wooden edge of the table as she bent over her cue again, a brief upward flicker of her lashes revealed what might almost have been taken for hesitation. Did she realise she was playing in the big leagues? Good. Considering her options? More likely. Looking back down the cue, she swayed her hips again, a move that could have been misconstrued as preparation for her next shot to the untrained eye. Blake recognised it for what it was.

      What bugged him was how well it was working.

      ‘I didn’t know you’d be here, if that’s what you’re suggesting,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

      That he was more likely to believe. How could she when he hadn’t known himself until a little under an hour ago? He never did from one Friday to the next. It was the nature of the job, the story of his life.

      There was a sharp click and another ball disappeared off the table. ‘But, since we are here, maybe if you told me what the problem is, we could talk about it.’

      ‘We could—’ he rocked forward as she stood up ‘—if I hadn’t already said I wasn’t talking about it.’