Jo Leigh - One-Click Buy - September Harlequin Blaze

He grabbed her arm. “Not even a few minutes conversation?”

“Not even that,” she insisted, jerking her arm away.

Her angry tone and the heat in her eyes must have finally gotten through. Because Ted went from stupid drunk trying to score to angry drunk trying to control in one blink of her eyes. Without warning, he put both his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. Bridget stumbled over her own high-heeled sandals, landing on her butt on the edge of her desk.

“Perfect.” Dropping his hands onto her thighs, he crudely pushed her legs apart and forced his way between them.

“Let me go!”

“Not yet, hot stuff.”

She reached around on the desk behind her, hoping she’d left her scissors or stapler out, but all she managed to grab was a small desk clock. Wrapping her fingers tightly around it, she swung, but only managed a glancing blow to Ted’s shoulder.

His nostrils flared even as his eyes narrowed in anger. “Playing hard to get?”

“Let me go or I’ll scream.”

“Nobody to hear you, pretty thing,” he said, any hint of charm gone from his voice as his true nature emerged.

Before she could say a thing-or think what to say-Bridget heard something that sounded like an angel. But it was no angel.

It was Dean Willis. Roaring.

“Get the hell off her you son of a bitch.”

Suddenly he was. Ted was lifted off her and tossed to the side of the room. Bridget saw him land hard against the wall and crumple to the floor. He yelped in either fear or pain. Or both.

He had reason to be afraid. Dean was already reaching for him, his face red, his body emanating danger. “You’re dead.”

Ted’s bravado when facing her disappeared under this new threat. Before Dean could even grab him, he’d launched himself to his feet and run out the door, leaving the two of them alone. The whole thing-from Ted’s entrance to his speedy departure-had taken place in under three minutes.

Her head was spinning. Breathing hard and shaking a little, she mumbled, “Thank you so much.”

Dean swung around to look at her, that blood rage still evident on his face. His blue eyes were like matching chips of ice. He looked as much like a cute, nice-guy car salesman as she looked like Xena the Warrior Princess.

No. This was not gentle, good-natured Dean. This was a dangerous man in a high fury. And her shivers of fear turned to shivers of excitement.

“What the hell happened?”

Still sitting on the desk, she could only shake her head. “He obviously had been drinking. He came back and caught me alone. It’s the first time he’s ever…I mean, he’s a creep, but I never thought he’d…”

“Maybe if you’d wear clothes that didn’t scream ‘do me’ men wouldn’t try.”

Bridget’s jaw dropped and she stared at him in shock. “What did you say to me?”

“Look at you,” he snapped, stepping closer. He pointed to her legs, still splayed open on the desk.

Bridget tried to jerk them back together, but Dean stepped between them before she could do it. With absolutely no warning, he plunged his hands into her hair and bent to cover her lips with his. He thrust his tongue in her mouth, tasting her, devouring her. His body was hard against hers, his hips between her thighs, and Bridget couldn’t even try to deny the absolute flood of heat that roared through her in response.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head to kiss him back just as deeply. And for a long, heady moment, they made crazy, wild love with their mouths.

Then the moment ended. Dean let her go and staggered back a few steps. “Bridget, I’m…”

She put her hand up, palm out, to stop him. Sliding off the desk, she straightened her skirt and said, “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t say anything. I wanted that. Maybe I needed it just so I could wash Ted out of my memory. I didn’t exactly jump up there and part my legs-he pushed me.”

Dean instinctively swung his head to look at the door, that tense rage returning.

“He’s long gone. Thank you for coming in when you did.”

He ran both hands through his hair, his anger finally draining away. “I’ll take care of him, Bridget.”

“Marty will deal with him.” She stepped closer, offering him a tremulous smile. Because now there was no doubt that Dean’s interest in her was one of more than friendship. That kiss-and his body’s hard, instinctive reaction to it-told her he wanted more. Maybe as much as she did. “I guess that makes you my hero, huh?”

Dean stared at her, his eyes softening, the tension easing. Reaching for her, he pulled her into his arms. But this time, he didn’t attempt to kiss her. His embrace was pure, sweet comfort. He held her tightly, running his hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry. Sorry for what he did…sorry for what I said.”

“It’s all right. You were angry.” Tilting her head back, she smiled up at him. “I thought it was kinda sexy.”

For a second-a brief one-she thought he was going to smile back. To laugh, then lower his mouth to hers and kiss her again, gently this time.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, Dean sighed heavily and his mouth drew tight. “I’m also sorry for kissing you. I should never have done that.”

“I’ve been wanting you to…”

He put his hand up to stop her. “Don’t. It was a mistake, Bridget. A big one. And it won’t be repeated.”

She gasped, unable to believe he was rejecting her. Again.

“What is your problem?” she asked, completely indignant.

He just shook his head. “I don’t have a problem. I just can’t…don’t want…hell, Bridget, this just can’t happen.” As if needing to convince himself, as much as her, he reiterated.

“It won’t happen.”

WHEN NICK MANAGED to get through another evening at Leather and Lace without watching her dance, Izzie got a little nervous. She didn’t want to ask him about it over the next few nights since they were having such an amazing time doing wildly sensual things to one another. But she couldn’t help wondering.

On Sunday night, he’d been too busy to watch her dance. Or so he’d claimed. He’d conveniently had to go put out another fire in the club every time she was scheduled to go on.

Suspicious. She didn’t want to be, but she was.

He’d said he could handle it…but he wasn’t acting like he even wanted to try.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. In fact, putting herself in his shoes, she’d have to say she’d probably have a major problem with other women looking at her naked man with covetous eyes, thinking of ways they could have that incredible body and handsome face.

Her man. Her man? Oh, God, had he somehow become her man?

Sitting in her apartment, she realized that yes, at some point in recent weeks, Nick had become her man.

Maybe it had been when he’d made love to her in the back of the van. Or when he’d cared for her after she’d fallen in her dressing room. Maybe it was because of his sexy smile and the intimate way he watched her when he thought no one was looking.

Maybe it was even because of the way she’d felt every single time she’d woken up in his arms.

Those pre-dawn moments. Yeah. They’d probably done it.

Because each time it had happened-whether at his apartment, or hers, she’d had to lie there and watch him sleep. Study the line of his jaw and the curve of his cheek. Wonder how a man could have such a sensuous mouth and still be so damned tough. Note the small scars on his body, and his tattoo, and grieve for the things he must have gone through as a soldier.

Yes. In those moments, her heart had opened up. And she’d let him in just as surely as she’d let him in her body.