Her Perfect Proposal. Lynne Marshall

life-change phenomenon—and the desire to connect with someone in a meaningful way. The thought made her shudder, so she took another sip of beer before glancing up.

      Holy Adonis, that man filled out those jeans to perfection. Out of his neatly ironed uniform, he still cut an imposing figure. Extrabroad shoulders, deltoids and biceps deeply defined, enough to make him an ideal anatomy lesson with every muscle clearly on display. Far, far better than that old plastic doll. With those thighs, and upper body strength, he could probably single-handedly push an entire football blocking sled all the way down the field. Or flip a car in an emergency. The guy was scary sturdy.

      He’d stepped in when things had gotten sticky with Kirby at the bar, like it was second nature. Gunnar’s family had been through the wringer with his father going to prison. Apparently that had influenced his career choice.

      She continued to watch him. There was something sweet and kind about his verdant eyes with crinkles at the edges. He hadn’t let the tough times or stressful job turn him hard. And his friendly smile. Wow, she liked his smile with the etched parentheses around it. That folksy partial grin gave him small-town charm, and the self-deprecating, beneath-the-brow glance he occasionally gave added to that persona, though nothing else about him gave the remote impression of being “small.”

      She finished her ale, had really liked the crisp, almost apple taste, and chalked her cue while he racked up the balls in the triangle. She’d played her share of pool in college dorms, enough not to humiliate herself, anyway.

      “Eight-ball okay with you?”

      She nodded. It was the only game she knew.

      “Stripes or solids?” he asked.

      “Stripes.”

      “Want me to break?”

      “Sure. Thanks.”

      Once Gunnar set everything up, he waved the waitress over and ordered some chips and salsa with extra cheese. She’d eaten a salad for dinner, and the beer was already going to her head, so she wouldn’t sweat the extra calories.

      When Ingé brought the food, he joked with her and gave an extra nice tip. Lilly liked friendly and generous guys—guys who maybe wanted to make up for their pasts. A couple of cops, probably subordinates since they referred to Gunnar as “Sergeant,” lined up nearby to watch the game, looking amused. “Go easy on her,” one of them said.

      “Don’t worry, miss,” said one of the other men sitting at the bar, who looked big like a construction worker. “He’s a gentleman. Right Gun-man?”

      From the way people talked to Gunnar, always smiling when they did, some calling him Gun-man, others Gun, and the way everyone responded to his casual style, she could tell he was liked and respected by his peers. She’d also noticed that Kirby had taken Gunnar’s firm hint, and kept quiet. Adding up all of that, plus the company of the charming police officer, helped her relax and let her usual guard down. This Gunnar was a nice guy. Gee, maybe she’d actually have a good time tonight. Come to think of it, she already was!

      “Did I mention he tried to give me a ticket for jaywalking?” She joined in the fun and chided his buddies.

      Gunnar laughed. “A warning.”

      “Yeah, he’s a stickler sometimes,” said the dart player named Jake.

      Could she blame a guy overcompensating for his father’s wrongdoings?

      Lilly suddenly wanted to be treated like one of the guys, so she glanced around at the half dozen men taking special interest in her playing pool with Gun-man, and decided to put on a show.

      “The next round is on me,” she said as Gunnar stepped back to let her take her shot. The call for more drinks went over well with the small audience, according to the assorted comments.

      “Great!”

      “Thanks!”

      “Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

      Gunnar had, once again, set her up with some good and easy shots, if she didn’t blow it from being a bit rusty and all, and she’d gotten the distinct feeling he’d done it on purpose. She leaned forward, and since he had an audience, she waited for him to step in and pull the oldest come-on in the book—to show her how to hold the cue stick and make the shot, meanwhile his hands running over her body for a quick and sneaky feel-up.

      But he didn’t. He stayed right where he was and explained the technique from there. He really was Dudley Do-Right.

      “Try keeping your shoulder back and your elbow like this.” He demonstrated. “See how my fingers are? Try that. You’ll have more control.”

      He never got closer than two feet away.

      She knew how to play well enough, but she’d let him school her, make him think he was helping her compete. Clicking back into her reason for being here tonight, she decided to play along for now, forget about her news quest. She did exactly as he’d said and made her shot. In the pocket. Yes!

      She smiled at him and he winked. Uh-oh, that wink flew through her like a warm winged butterfly searching for a place to light. Good thing her fresh beer was within reach to give her an out to quickly recoup.

      She smiled and made a quick curtsy, then got back to business.

      She’d come here with the plan to find Gunnar, pepper him with drinks and get the information she wanted for her first breakout story. But after their surprising conversation, where they’d both shown a bit of their true colors, all she wanted to do was fit in. This was fun. To hell with the story. She could follow up on that later.

      The pool game was the center of her attention, well, that and Gunnar and his every sexy move, and she had a nagging desire to impress him. Just like a kid. Eesh. If she could keep her head straight and concentrate on the game, not him, she’d do just fine.

      As the game went on, he used his cue as a pointer to suggest where she should stand for which shot and she followed his every lead. As a result she had the best, most competitive game of pool in her life. Who knew how fun it was to play pool in a stinky men’s bar?

      Between the beer and chips breaks, and their undeniably steamy looks passing back and forth over the scraped-up, green felt-covered table, the game kept getting extended. Occasionally while changing places they’d brush shoulders, and the simple interaction made her edgy. Man, he knew how to rattle a woman with his laser-sharp gaze, too.

      As she watched Gunnar make his shots, he seemed to ooze sexy. Whether it was her beer or his smoldering gaze—he was one hot guy—her knees turned to noodles. But he was also very human, just like her, with “issues” as she always jokingly referred to the pressure from her parents to be the best at everything she did.

      Gathering her composure, Lilly called the pocket and sank the eight ball. More surprised than anyone, she put down the cue and jumped with hands high above her head. “Yay! I did it. I beat you.”

      Gunnar smiled, took a step closer and, being anything but a poor sport, patted her shoulder in congratulations. “Good job, Ms. Jaywalker.”

      “Thanks.” Every thought flew out of her mind when he touched her. Having him close scrambled her brain, twisting her thoughts into knots. She needed a moment to recover.

      “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she said, edging away from his overwhelming space invasion. This seemed far more intimidating than when his easygoing charm had gotten her to let her guard down and spill about her past.

      While in the bathroom she gathered her composure and remembered why she’d come to the bar tonight, then returned to the game with new intent. But the first thing she saw was Gunnar. He leaned his hips against the pool table, long legs outstretched, ankles crossed, arms folded, talking casually to Jake. Could he give a better display of his biceps? Man, it was going to take a lot of effort to concentrate on the next game. And, uh-oh, there was another beer waiting for her.

      “I