Can't Fight This Feeling. Christie Ridgway

gratefully—given in to the inevitable.

      Her body seized as a familiar figure strode up to the couple’s table.

      Brett Walker interrupted the pair’s intimate conversation without hesitation. He lightly cuffed the back of the man’s head and when he shifted, leaned around the other guy to buss the blonde on the cheek. She bounced on her seat and pointed at a free space on the curved banquette.

      When he slipped onto the cushion, Angelica told herself to look away. But her gaze refused to budge because he was actually smiling at the woman, a real smile, a free smile, that looked relaxed and warm. Everything he wasn’t in Angelica’s presence.

      Then the blonde made a gesture toward the bar and it was clear what would happen next. Brett would make his way there to pick up a drink and he’d see Angelica and...

      She didn’t know what would happen. She only knew she had to get away before he caught sight of her.

      Murmuring something about the ladies’ room to Glory, she slid off her stool and scurried in what she hoped was the right direction. A doorway led her to a darkened hall that didn’t lead to restrooms, but instead a solid door with a sign that read Emergency Exit Only. Alarm Will Sound When Opened.

      She approached it anyway, with some vague idea of hiding in the shadows there until...sometime when she felt it was safe enough to return to the bar.

      Behind her back, a man called her name. “Angelica?”

      Her eyes closed. Of course Brett had seen her escape. “Um...yeah?”

      The rug muffled his footsteps, but she sensed his approach. The hairs on the back of her neck jumped to attention. “Are you all right?” he asked.

      “Can’t a woman have a little alone time?” she snapped out, without turning toward him.

      She didn’t need to see him to sense the rising of one of his eyebrows. “Hiding by the back door?”

      With a shrug, she tried to indicate nonchalance instead of idiocy.

      “Are you afraid of me?” he asked, his voice low.

      “Of course not!” She glanced over her shoulder to see him rub his palm over his hair, his expression frustrated. “Why’d you follow me?”

      “I—”

      “Never mind. I’m leaving.” But she did nothing more than turn to face him.

      “What are you doing here, anyway? This doesn’t seem your kind of place.”

      She was supposed to be networking, she remembered. Making contacts in hopes of finding another job. Because she was without family, without a home, without more than a few dollars to her name.

      Suddenly, it was too much. Overwhelmed by her situation, overstimulated by the presence of the man she’d been attracted to for months, she felt another upwelling of those useless tears. Angry at her herself, she dashed them away with the edge of her hand.

      “Angelica.” Then he was close. Closer than when they’d been saying goodbye at the coffee place the other day. Closer than ever before. She felt his breath on her temple and his body heat made her own skin prickle.

      His fingers gripped her chin to tilt her face to his. Then he groaned, the sound frustrated. Resigned.

      “This is a bad idea,” he murmured.

      And before she could agree, because having his hands on her was terrible, he kissed her.

      His lips were hard, his tongue insistent. She opened for him—there seemed no alternative—and he swept inside in the same way he swept away all her sensible thoughts. Her fingers clutched his biceps and they swelled under her touch.

      His head tilted, and the kiss went deeper. Her tongue slid along his, and they both shuddered. He crowded her until she stepped back, her shoulder blades to the wall. That didn’t stop him, he just kept pressing into her and instead of being nervous of his big, masculine frame surrounding her smaller one, she only felt...turned on.

      And, strangely safe.

      One arm curled around his neck and she tilted her hips, the jut of his sex against her belly. His hands clutched at her hair and he pushed into her, harder, and then...

      He tore his mouth from hers. Stepped back.

      “Bad idea,” he muttered again, and was gone.

      Angelica sagged against the wall, struggling to bring her breathing under control. Her fingers shook when she brought them to her lips, which felt both bruised and scorched.

      A hysterical giggle tried to climb up her throat. She thought of what she and Brett had done. What Glory had said.

       Once you get more acquainted with people, who knows what might come up?

      A little one-on-one with Brett Walker was probably not what her friend had in mind.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      NURSING HER BEER, Glory Hallett kept her attention on her glass and her back to the rest of the crowd at Mr. Frank’s. Angelica had just left after returning from the ladies’ room, looking wide-eyed and unsettled, as if a ghost had goosed her in the back hall.

      Her father was a bastard for taking his daughter’s money—not just her trust fund, but money that she had earned and invested from her modeling days—and for putting her into this position. Glory might have her beefs with her own dad, but he wasn’t a criminal. She peeked over her shoulder to see him in a far corner at a table with his cronies. Even though he was an exemplary citizen, she didn’t want to engage with him tonight. A girl should get to enjoy a beer without having her pops come over to talk shop, which was exactly what he’d do if he spotted her.

      Maybe she, like Angelica, should head for home. Another ladies’ night at Mr. Frank’s felt suddenly flat. If she hung around much longer, surely Hank Hallett would notice her presence and come out of his very tenuous retirement to decide it was time to once again intrude on the course the business’s new management had set.

      “This seat taken?” a deep voice asked.

      “No,” she answered, not distracted from the morose turn of her thoughts. Sighing, she decided leaving was the best option she had. She could spend the rest of the evening debating whether to join an online dating service—not for the first time—knowing from the outset nothing would come of registering even if she did. She already knew every eligible man living in the local mountain resort communities. Outside the area...well, given that she’d never be leaving it because of her ties to the store, finding a man with a life down the hill would be a big waste of time and only bring the potential for heartbreak.

      “Great,” the newcomer answered.

      His low-toned voice niggled at her, and her gaze flicked to the right. When she saw a rangy body climb onto the stool, she took a longer look. Her heart jumped in her chest. “Oh. You.”

      His eyes cut to her. They were dark, to match his dark, shaggy hair. She refused to wiggle on her seat, despite the fact it seemed he was having trouble placing her. Embarrassing! She remembered his face.

      His glance dropped down to her chest. She wore a button-up Henley over a tank top and, yes, she was revealing a bit of cleavage. After working in a hardware store sixty hours a week, on occasion she did like to remind people she was a woman. But maybe she should feel a little insulted by his ogling.

      His eyes lifted to hers. “You’re...Glory. I remember your name’s written on the apron you wear at work.”

      Yay! All was forgiven! She smiled at him. “Hello, stranger.” Holding out her hand, she introduced herself. “Glory Hallett, of Hallett Hardware.”

      His handshake was manly and brief. “Kyle Scott, of...”

      She