His To Protect. Karen Rock

spot beside him.

      She wound her thick hair into a messy topknot, and repositioned a patterned headband to hold things in place. “Wow, this place is packed,” she said, waving her hand in front of her flushed face. “We must be breaking some fire codes.”

      As she glanced around the room, his eyes lingered on the profile revealed by her upswept do. Everything about her face was soft and round, from her large blue eyes, to the delicate tip of her nose, and the tender-looking flesh beneath her slightly jutting chin. His fingers itched to touch it.

      “Mayday’s has seen worse than this. Is it your first time here?”

      “What gave me away?” She did a little eye roll, a self-deprecating gesture that charmed him more than a practiced come-on.

      “Most of the regulars don’t bother with conversation.” He pointed out a couple on the dance floor whose groping session was leaving them both overexposed.

      “Oh.” She blinked and he’d bet money she blushed, but it was too dark to tell for sure. “How nice for them.” She toasted them with her mostly empty drink.

      “I’m Mark.” He held out a hand, unable to resist the excuse to touch her.

      “Cassie.” She set down her glass and wiped her hand on a cocktail napkin before folding her fingers around his.

      Her touch was cool and impossibly soft, her charm bracelet grazing his skin before she pulled away. The tug of arousal he felt was immediate and too strong to ignore. Which meant sitting with her tonight was going to be more than a distraction.

      “Cassie, I’ll be honest with you.” He didn’t want to mislead her and he didn’t know if he could rein himself in when she stirred this kind of response. “I’m not the best company tonight—”

      “Maybe you should let me be the judge of that.” Her blue eyes met his head-on with a look that wasn’t quite as innocent, the self-consciousness he’d detected earlier giving way to a mix of teasing determination.

      In fact, he suspected this awkward beauty was flirting with him.

      He felt his lips twitch. “You think?”

      “I’m definitely no bar scene expert, but I know what intrigues a woman. I can be a fair judge.”

      “And how exactly are you making your evaluation?”

      He might be on edge tonight, but that wasn’t her problem. Besides, something about this woman shrunk the shadows inside him. He’d linger a little longer. Find out more about her.

      She leaned in close and he inhaled her honey-and-vanilla scent. This near, he could make out the pale freckles sprinkled across her nose.

      “Well.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Let’s get the superficial out of the way first and judge you on your looks.”

      The soda burned as he swallowed the wrong way. He appreciated a direct woman. Didn’t encounter as many as he’d like, though. “And how am I doing?”

      “On a ten-point scale?” Her eyes slid along the length of him and lingered on his mouth long enough to raise his temperature, his libido firing. “I’d say a nine.”

      “And what did I lose a point on?” He shouldn’t be here, flirting with a woman who didn’t have nearly enough hard edges to be a part of his world. But she amused him. And if he left, who would be looking out for her?

      She shrugged sun-kissed shoulders, making the left sleeve slide nearly to her elbow. His mouth flooded. A hungry dog drooling over a juicy bone. “Not much, really. But I couldn’t inflate your ego more by giving you a perfect score on your looks.”

      “Who said I have an ego?”

      She laughed, a tinkling, bubbling sound that sparked like a flare inside him. “Puh-lease. A woman sees confidence on a man from a mile away.”

      A smile maneuvered its way around his face. A damned unfamiliar feeling. “Point taken. Next category?”

      “Then we’d move on to more important things. Like humor.”

      “Can I throw out the judge’s highest and lowest scores?”

      “I’m your judge and your jury.” She pointed a swizzle stick at him. “But since that was sort of funny, I’ll let you slide with a seven point five.”

      “I’ll take it.” With his mood, he would have scored himself a lot lower, although the night didn’t seem half as dark with Cassie across the table from him. “Is your next category about money?”

      “You think that’s all women care about?” She glanced over her shoulder as she said the words, her gaze taking in the men waving green bills at the bartender. “The size of your wallet?”

      “That and the size of our—”

      “Regardless,” she interrupted. “I was thinking the next category would be class.”

      Another sip of soda polished off his drink. He should leave, but with the alluring, teasing woman beside him, he was no longer sure he wanted to escape. “What’s my number?”

      “An eight. You lose two for not offering me a cocktail as soon as I sat down.” Her impish grin reappeared and his body tightened at the small, sexy space between her front teeth. “You must have known I was nervous.”

      He wondered why a beautiful woman would be nervous about sharing his table, but she seemed relaxed enough now. He didn’t want that smile of hers to fade.

      “I hope it’s not too late to fix that.” He waved over the waitress hovering on the edge of the crowd. “A drink for the lady.”

      Cassie frowned. “I wasn’t going to drink any more tonight. But maybe just one.” Glancing up at the server, she quizzed her on the tequila choices before deciding. “Margarita on the rocks, salt not sugar.”

      “Not sweet, then?” he teased once they were alone again, enjoying this time with the woman keeping him on his toes and out of his dark thoughts.

      “Sweetness doesn’t get you far in life, I’ve learned.” Shadows crossed through her blue gaze for a moment, but then she blinked and the look disappeared. “I’m cultivating a tart side.”

      “You’ll need that if you decide to spend much time at Mayday’s.” He didn’t like thinking about her here without him, though. He changed topics fast. “Next category?”

      “Power.” Her lips pursed as she considered him, the move making him uncomfortably aware of the fullness of her mouth. “You’re a ten.”

      His pulse slugged hard, this flirtation ratcheting up the heat in a hurry.

      “A perfect score.”

      She biffed his bicep. “Really? Like you don’t notice the waitresses falling over themselves to obey your every command?”

      As if to underscore her words, the server hustled back with the beverage.

      “Would you?” he asked once they were alone again, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.

      She sucked slowly on a lime wedge, each second of silence building the tension between them. “That remains to be seen,” she said at last.

      Which was definitely not a no. Damn but she was keeping him guessing.

      “Depending on...?” He balled his hands on his thighs then forced his fingers to relax. Why push this? He had every intention of leaving. With his drink finished, he was out of excuses to dawdle with this tempting woman. He blamed his mouth. Always open one sentence too long.

      “How you score in the rest of my categories,” she countered, leaning closer. The move outlined full breasts beneath the gauzy fabric of her dress as her long, silky legs appeared and disappeared when she uncrossed them.

      He looked away, beating back