Husband By The Hour. Сьюзен Мэллери

blinked at him uncomprehendingly. He took advantage of her confusion and placed his arm around her shoulders again. “The thing is,” he told her, “you’ve never given me a chance. I’m not nearly as bad as you think I am. Or maybe I am and that’s what tempts you the most One drink. What would it hurt?”

      As he spoke, he led her toward his midnight blue Mercedes convertible. It was one of the perks of his assignment. Of course, a flashy car wasn’t going to be much good to him if he ended up dead. A couple more weeks and the job would be finished. Then he could go back to his regular life and Nick Archer would be no more.

      He paused in front of the passenger side and pulled out his keys from his pants pocket.

      Hannah stared at the car. “Is it stolen?”

      “If I say no, will you say yes?”

      “Is it?”

      He grinned. “I’ve got the title in the glove box. Want to check it out?”

      He opened the door and motioned to the pale gray leather seat. He fully expected Hannah to slap him across the face, call him several obscene names and stalk back to her sensible sedan parked on the other side of the lot. He even stiffened in anticipation of the blow.

      The blow came in a completely different form.

      Shock. Mind-numbing shock when she muttered, “I’m insane,” and slipped inside his car.

      Nick carefully closed the passenger door and swore under his breath. Just his luck. The ice queen decided to thaw the day he had to get out of town.

      * * *

      Hannah touched her tongue to the rim of her glass and let the salt dissolve in her mouth. With a quick prayer that she wouldn’t choke—or worse—she picked up the shot of tequila sitting next to her margarita glass and downed it in one long, burning swallow.

      Fire ripped through her. She gasped out loud but didn’t cough, then blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes. Better, she thought, relieved as the fire turned to an almost comfortable heat.

      “You all right?” Nick asked, frowning faintly.

      “Fine,” she managed to reply, her voice only slightly raspy from the alcohol.

      He leaned back against the red booth seat “You win this round, Hannah. I never guessed you did shooters.”

      She shrugged as if to say there was a lot about her he didn’t know. Actually, he didn’t know anything about her, but he had been right about the shooters. She’d never had one before tonight And probably wouldn’t again, she reflected as a wave of alcohol rushed to her brain and made the room tilt slightly. Normally she limited herself to a single drink. White wine, or maybe a spritzer. If it was a special occasion, she might indulge in a glass of champagne. Not today. She was on her second margarita and had ordered extra shots with both.

      What was the phrase? Dutch courage? She needed her share of that, plus as much as she could get from any other source that offered it If she did what she was thinking, it was going to take every ounce of bravery she’d ever had. If she didn’t, she was going to break an old woman’s heart Talk about being between a rock and a hard place. Sometimes life wasn’t fair.

      The cocktail waitress strolled by. “Can I get you two something else?”

      She asked the question of both of them, but her attention clearly focused on Nick. Hannah couldn’t blame the woman. She often had trouble noticing anyone else when he was around. It was as if the whole world was dark and Nick was the only light The fact that the waitress noticed, too, only meant the other woman had good taste.

      Hannah resisted the urge to drop her head to her hands and moan. She was more drunk than she realized if she’d started thinking positive things about Nick Archer. He was nothing more than a common criminal. Oh, he hadn’t been arrested for anything…at least, none of the charges had stuck. He had a clean record. But she knew the type. He was smooth. Too smooth for someone like her.

      “Hannah?” Nick motioned to her half-empty glass.

      She waved him off and he dismissed the waitress. The busty blonde gave him a quick smile. Funny, he didn’t seem to notice.

      “But she’s beautiful,” Hannah blurted out, then covered her mouth too late to hold in the words.

      Nick frowned. That was twice in as many minutes. She liked how his eyebrows drew so close together. His forehead got all wrinkly, then when he relaxed, it smoothed out again.

      “Who’s beautiful?” he asked.

      She’d almost forgotten her statement, so it took her a second to figure out what he was asking. “The waitress.”

      He didn’t even look over toward the bar to find the woman in question. “If you say so.”

      “You didn’t think she was pretty?”

      “I didn’t notice.”

      “Sure.”

      Boy, next he would be telling her about some oceanfront property he had in Arizona. All he needed was the Big One to push California into the ocean. Only California wouldn’t fall into the ocean during an earthquake. The tectonic plates were pushing north. Eventually, Los Angeles and San Francisco would be within commuting distance. It would only take a couple million years to accomplish.

      “I liked geography,” she said. “So you can keep your oceanfront property.”

      “Excuse me?”

      He looked puzzled. Genuinely flummoxed. Hannah smiled. At least, it felt like she was smiling. It was hard to tell. Her lips were numb. Flummoxed. She repeated the word in her mind. It was a good word with a nice sound. She should try to work it into a sentence more often.

      “Hannah?”

      She glanced at Nick. He was staring at her. “What?”

      “What do you mean ‘what?’ Why are you talking about geography?”

      “I’m not.”

      “But you said…” He shook his head. “You’re drunk. I can’t believe it. On a margarita and a half. Talk about a lightweight.”

      “I had shooters,” she reminded him, then wondered if she should protest his statement that she was drunk. Of course she was. And there was that pesky numb feeling creeping from her lips to her cheeks. “It’s your fault,” she muttered.

      “Mine? Why?”

      “You’re always there.” She took another sip of her drink. “Talking to me. Asking me out. Why’d you have to do that?”

      “Maybe I like you.”

      “Oh, sure.” He liked her. Yeah, right. No doubt. Average-looking female police officers were every man’s fantasy. She must get a hundred offers a day.

      “You don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question.

      “Why should I?”

      His mouth curved into a slow smile. She felt the impact all the way down to her toes. He was sinfully handsome with big eyes the color of midnight blue. Thick lashes, sort of a medium brown and tipped with gold. Gold blond hair, layered and just to the top of his collar. Broad shoulders, great body, at least what she’d been able to see of it under his expensive suits. Despite being a criminal, Nick dressed like a corporate executive. He was funny, although she always tried hard not to laugh at his jokes. He was a smooth talker, charming and way out of her league. She knew better than to believe anything he might try to tell her.

      He leaned forward and touched the back of her hand. It was just one finger barely stroking her skin. Her cheeks were completely numb, she couldn’t feel her legs at all, yet that single touch burned through her like a laser through steel.

      She told herself to pull away, or at least to slap him real hard. She did nothing but stare at his finger, at