Hands On. Debbi Rawlins

it. She’d have to reapply it. Plus, she hadn’t checked her hair. It undoubtedly needed to be brushed. She sighed, and slid off the barstool. Some decoy she made.

      She hoped the restroom was in the direction the man with the Stetson had disappeared, although he’d been gone a long time. As if her thoughts had conjured him up, he reappeared just as she stepped away from the bar.

      Someone opened the front door behind her and sunlight streamed into the dimly lit room, illuminating the man’s face. Dark hair, dark eyes, rugged good looks, enhanced by the cleft in his chin.

      He looked past her toward the front door, and then stared directly at her.

      She averted her gaze and stepped to the side to give him room. Just as she was about to pass him, he grabbed her roughly by the elbows and pulled her against him. His rock solid chest muffled her gasp.

      “Baby, I was afraid you wouldn’t show up,” he said rather loudly.

      She pushed away from him, although he held on to her arms. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

      “I’m sorry for walking out last night. I don’t blame you for being angry.”

      That he’d obviously mistaken her for someone else provided some comfort. At least he wasn’t some whacko who’d just flipped out. But when he started to walk backward, trying to take her with him, panic seized her.

      She kicked him in the shins.

      “Shit!” His grip slackened, but before she could jerk away, he regained his hold. He yanked her up close so that she had to tilt her head back to keep her nose from touching his chin. His eyes were dark with warning and sent a shiver down her spine. “Look, honey, I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

      What was wrong with these guys in here? Why wasn’t anyone trying to help her? She parted her lips, ready to scream but the man slanted his head and covered her open mouth with his.

      She couldn’t breathe. She tried to pull away, tried to close her mouth, but he used his tongue to keep her lips parted, her breath trapped in her chest.

      His breath was warm and sweet and the kiss surprisingly tender, and for an instant she forgot she was being assaulted. When she finally gathered enough wits about her to try to bite him, he was too quick and eluded her.

      His withdrawal gave her the opportunity to call for the bartender. She sucked in a much-needed breath but before she could yell, he whispered, “Wait. I can explain.”

      Their eyes met. He had incredibly persuasive warm brown eyes. “Let go of me,” Cassie demanded.

      He hesitated, his dark brows slightly furrowed. “Sorry, I can’t do that,” he said, and then startled her by picking her up and cradling her to his chest. “I’ll be back to settle up, Jerry. The wife and me need to talk outside.”

      “The hell—”

      He silenced her with his mouth, using his tongue to ensure her cooperation as he carried her toward the front door. The bartender winked and waved a hand. They passed the guy who’d walked in a moment ago. He watched them with mild interest, and no inclination to get involved. He looked just like the picture she had of Robert Bask.

      The realization subdued her for the moment as her thoughts scrambled. This Neanderthal in a Stetson had just blown her cover. Bask thought she was married. But maybe that didn’t matter to someone like him…

      They got outside and panic started to rise again. She twisted her body, and he lost his hold. She started to go down fanny first, but he caught her and set her on her feet.

      She stumbled backward. “Stay away from me.”

      He put his hands up, palms out. “It’s not what you think. I’m a federal investigator.”

      “A what?” She stared in disbelief.

      “With the Attorney General’s office.” He reached into his jacket pocket.

      She took another step back. “Don’t move or I’ll scream loud enough to have half the county come running.”

      His left brow rose in amusement. “I hope you weren’t counting on the half in there.”

      “I scream and you wanna bet those boys come running?”

      He sobered. “I’m reaching into my pocket to get my badge, okay?”

      She let out a shaky breath. “You have two seconds.”

      He promptly withdrew a small leather case, and then flipped it open. One side had a gold badge, the other a picture ID.

      “What’s your interest in Robert Bask?”

      Cassie stared at the badge. It looked authentic enough, and the picture matched. His name was J. Dalton Styles. She looked up into his dark probing eyes. “I don’t care who you are, or who you work for. You had no right manhandling me that way.”

      His lips lifted in a smirk. “Manhandling?”

      “That’s right,” she said, and slapped him across the face so hard her palm stung. “Now, we’re even.”

      2

      “WHAT THE HELL did you do that for?” Dalton rubbed his stinging cheek. The woman was a lunatic.

      “You have to ask?”

      “Obviously.”

      “The only thing obvious to me is that our government had better add manners and etiquette to their training programs.”

      He made a face. She had a great body, pretty face and slight southern accent that would ordinarily inspire thoughts of satin sheets and a good bottle of wine. But the woman was clearly a nut. “What does the government have to do with anything?”

      “You work for them, don’t you?”

      “Ah, Christ, don’t— Hey—” He grabbed her arm when she tried to leave. “This is serious. I need to know what your interest in Bask is.”

      “I’m a private detective.”

      “I know, but why are you after Bask?”

      “What do you mean you know?”

      Dalton darted a look toward the bar. No one had come outside but there were two windows from where they could be watched. “I checked you out. Your name is Cassie York and you work for Madison Investigations.”

      Her blue eyes widened. “You couldn’t have known that.”

      He shrugged. “Okay, so I don’t know about that. Tell me about Bask.”

      “I meant, that quick. You couldn’t have checked me out. You—” She glared, her face turning pink. “Have you been following me?”

      “Never laid eyes on you before today.” Damn, he didn’t want to admit he’d broken into her car. No telling what she’d do. “Look, we don’t have much time.”

      She folded her arms across her nicely rounded chest producing a fair amount of tempting cleavage. “Tough.”

      He bit back a curse. “Do you believe I’m a federal marshal?”

      She blinked, and uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “Well, I did, but maybe I shouldn’t.”

      Christ Almighty. “You saw my badge. The point is you’ve got to trust me.”

      “Why?”

      “Because Bask is scum, and you obviously want him just like I do.”

      “Why do you say he’s scum? What’s he done to get your attention?”

      “Can we discuss this later?” He glanced toward the bar door. “Before you blow this case?”

      Anger flashed in her eyes. “Me? I’m not the one who picked you