A Perfect Storm. Lori Foster

earlier, then. Just be discreet.”

       His thumb moved over the arch of her foot, nearly stopping her heart. “This isn’t my first rodeo, honey.”

       She wasn’t his honey, but… “What are you doing?”

       “What?”

       She nodded at her feet.

       As if he hadn’t been aware of the touch himself, he looked down at his hand and then stroked with his thumb again. “This?” He drew both her feet up to his thigh. “You’re tense.”

       She was, but she thought she’d hidden it. “Yeah, well…”

       “You don’t like it?” He pressed, rubbed, worked her arches in a deep, firm massage.

       And she wanted to melt. Felt like parts of her did melt. “Mmm. I like it.”

       Spencer stilled again, his gaze piercing, hot. “Never had a foot-rub before?”

       “That’s a joke, right?”

       “So relax and enjoy.”

       It was a bit too personal, but she liked it too much to make him quit. “Knock yourself out.” She drew a breath and tried to get them back on track. “Okay, so you know to ignore me when you come into the place, right?”

       “If I did that, they’d suspect something.” Setting aside the beer, he half turned toward her and, keeping his gaze on her face, worked over her feet more thoroughly.

       Bone-melting pleasure stole her breath.

       Watching her, Spencer said softly, “No red-blooded man is going to miss noticing you, Arizona, so forget that idea. I’ll give you the same attention every other guy in the place will be doling out. Think you can handle that?”

       With her heavy eyelids at half-mast, she snuggled farther into his couch. “Sure.”

       He half smiled. “Just so you know, I might have to pretend interest in other women, too.”

       That brought her out of her slumberous trance. “Why?”

       “Because if the place is what we think it is, they’re liable to parade out the wares. If I’m not picking up the cues, they’ll pull back and we’ll lose an opportunity.”

       He was right, damn him. She wouldn’t think about it now, and tomorrow…she’d deal with it. “Fine, whatever.” Her toes curled at his renewed touch. “Once you’re in the bar for backup, I’ll drop a few casual questions, maybe flirt a little, go for the helpless look. You know, all in all I’ll make myself seem like easy pickings.”

       “You’ve done that before?”

       She closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah. Plenty of times. It works to draw out the unscrupulous scumbags.”

       His hands moved up to her ankles, kneading, soothing, then back down over her feet. So nice.

       “And when the scumbags show themselves?”

       “You and I can kick their…butts.” She’d swallowed back the curse word just in time, which robbed the description of any real punch.