Whatever Reilly Wants.... Maureen Child

      The woman oozed sex.

      His fingers squeezed the glass of beer until he wouldn’t have been surprised to feel it shatter like spun sugar in his grasp. Scraping one hand across his face, he inhaled sharply and watched, spellbound, as she lifted her right foot and rubbed it slowly against her left calf.

      Need spiked.

      His body went instantly hard.

      His breath shuddered and his heartbeat staggered.

      He watched one of the guys closest to her, lean in and whisper something, and Connor wanted to grab the guy and pitch him through a window.

      Okay, breathe.

      He sucked in air and told himself that he was only reacting like this because of his recent dry spell.

      But it was more.

      There was something about her.

      Something that called to him from all the way across the room. Something that made a man want to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to a cave where he could have her, over and over again. Where he could listen to her moan and taste her sighs.

      He took another gulp of beer, hoping the icy drink would put out some of the fire. But he knew better. Damn it, he never should have come in here.

      The blonde straightened up slowly, then hitched one hip higher than the other as she laughed. That tight, short skirt of hers hugged her behind. She shook her long blond hair back from her face, and Connor was captivated, watching the thick, wavy fall of blond shift and dance around her.

      He swallowed hard.

      Then she tipped her head back and playfully patted the other guy’s chest.

      Connor dropped his beer.

      The glass shattered at his feet, splashing ice cold beer on everyone close by.

      He didn’t notice.

      He couldn’t take his eyes off the blond with the body made for sex.

      “Emma?”

      Three

      Even over the pounding rhythm of the jukebox, Emma heard the glass shatter.

      But then, her ears were attuned to everything. She’d seen Connor walk into the bar—which was exactly why she’d maneuvered herself to the end of the pool table. She’d even opted to take a lousy shot, because she knew exactly what kind of picture she’d make, leaning over the pool table.

      Nerves hit her hard and fast. Her stomach spun, and the edges of her vision got a little foggy, but she could deal with that. Had to deal with it. Too late now to change her plan.

      Smiling up at the guy she’d just beaten at pool, she ignored the sensation of Connor’s gaze boring into her back. “That’s twenty bucks you owe me, Mike. Want to go double or nothing?”

      The tall Marine smiled down at her as he handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “How about you let me buy you a drink instead?”

      “How about you take off?” Connor’s voice was nothing more than a low growl.

      Emma shifted a look at him and had to force herself not to smile at the stunned-to-his-toes expression on his face. Good. She definitely had his attention.

      “Connor,” she said, in mock surprise. “I didn’t see you come in.”

      Viciously he rubbed the back of his neck, then let his hand drop to his side. “Yeah, well. I sure as hell saw you.”

      “Friend of yours?”

      Emma glanced back at the man she’d just beaten twice at pool. Tall and good-looking, any other night she just might be interested. Tonight, though, every thought was centered on Connor. But Mike didn’t look too pleased at the idea of sharing.

      They were attracting a small crowd, drawn no doubt by the bristling testosterone in the air. Emma wanted to shake her head at the ridiculousness of it, but there was a small part of her enjoying the whole show.

      After all, she spent most of her time being just what Connor had called her. One of the guys. A pal. Well, she’d been underestimated most of her life. True, she’d probably played into it by never bothering to dress the part of “female.” But she’d always figured she shouldn’t have to. A woman who was a successful business owner should be accepted on her own terms without having to stand in killer high heels and skirts so short she felt a breeze way too high up.

      “Emma,” Mike said, bringing her up out of her thoughts with a jerk. “You know this guy?”

      “Oh, yes,” she said, sending another look to Connor and really enjoying seeing him watch the other guy through narrowed eyes. “Connor and I are old friends.”

      “And we need to talk,” Connor said, not bothering to take the warning out of his voice as he faced the other Marine. “So why don’t you get lost?”

      “Yeah?” Mike snarled. “I don’t remember inviting you over.”

      Connor’s chin went up, Mike stiffened and curled his hands into fists, and Emma suddenly felt as though she were in the middle of a special on that cable channel about animals. The men were like two bull elephants about to butt heads.

      And in spite of the anger she still felt toward Connor, a purely female spurt of delight shot through her—which she quickly shot down. Seriously, two men go caveman and woman reverts right along with them. Must be contagious.

      Stepping in between them, Emma smiled up at Mike Whatever-his-last-name-was and said, “It’s okay. I do need to talk to Connor so…” She let her sentence trail off and shrugged an apology.

      He didn’t like it, but he moved away, rejoining his friends at the bar. Connor glared after him, then shifted his gaze back to Emma.

      With a calm she wasn’t quite feeling, she folded the twenty-dollar bill she’d just won and tucked it into her bra—the push-up kind that gave her more cleavage than God had ever gifted her with. And she didn’t miss Connor’s gaze following the action.

      A swirl of something hot and thick simmered within, and she told herself it was purely a female reaction to a male stare of appreciation. Although, she hadn’t exactly been panting when Mike was giving her the once-over.

      Doesn’t matter.

      All that mattered was that her plan was working.

      She smiled to herself and rubbed the tip of her cue stick with a square of chalk. Then, setting it aside, she pursed her lips and blew gently on the tip. Connor swallowed hard.

      This is just fun, Emma thought.

      “So,” she said, tipping her head to one side so that her hair fell around her like a gold curtain, “what’d you want to talk about?”

      He snorted and swept his gaze up and down her. “You’re kidding, right?”

      She leaned one hip against the pool table, while she idly stroked her fingers up and down the cue stick. “Is there a problem?”

      “A problem?” Connor’s eyes bugged out and his mouth worked a time or two, as if he was trying to speak but just couldn’t convince the words to cooperate. Finally he got a grip on himself, leaned in toward her and said in a strained hush, “Damn it, Emma, look at you. When you were bent over that pool table, I could see clear to—”

      She raised one eyebrow and hid the delighted smile she felt inside. “Clear to where, Connor?”

      He straightened up. “Doesn’t matter.” He inhaled sharply. “What does matter is that every guy in here is looking, too.”

      Okay, there was just a tiny stirring of uneasiness. She’d wanted Connor to get an eyeful, and she’d known going in that she might attract some attention from other guys. But the thought of a roomful of Marines scoping her