Lisa Jones - Hot Target

“I’d…” She seemed to reconsider what she was going to say. “That works.”

He smiled at her, a sincere, heartfelt smile. Now that she’d agreed to take the case, he needed to stop with the games. It was time to show her he wasn’t such a bad guy.

“I’ll carry your bags up for you.” Luke faced Ron. “I’d like to talk to you before you leave.”

“If you have something to say about me, say it to my face.”

Katie’s heated words drew his attention. He narrowed his gaze on her—his intention had been to question Ron about Katie. But maybe that was best done directly.

“Then let’s make a deal,” Luke said to her.

Her eyes darkened. “What kind of deal?”

Ron answered before Luke could. “You two deal,” he said. “I need to get going anyway. Unlike the two of you, age isn’t on my side. It’s eleven o’clock, and I have a meeting at seven in the morning.”

“I’ll walk out with you,” Katie said quickly.

Luke laughed.

Katie fixed him in a hard stare. “What?” she demanded.

He shook his finger at her. “You don’t play by the rules.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, but her expression said she knew.

“I’m out of here,” Ron said, moving toward the door. “And for the record,” he called over his shoulder, turning back to them for a quick moment, “I won’t be the referee. Play nice together and catch a bad guy. Then we all win.”

He opened the door and disappeared.

Luke and Katie were suddenly alone, staring at each other, the air crackling with awareness. Ah, but Luke was not blind. There was a heavy dose of discomfort on Katie’s part, as well. She wanted him, but she didn’t want to want him. Whatever Joey Martin had done to her, he’d done it well.

Okay, admittedly, Luke playing the asshole on deck hadn’t helped. He’d taken a preexisting wall and inched it higher. Which really sucked because he liked her. She was real. He sensed it as surely as he did a batter about to hike a ball out of the park, sensed this with such certainty that he wouldn’t bother second-guessing himself, even though his recent track record with women was pretty flipping pathetic. If Katie hated him, it would be openly, not behind his back. If she desired him, her passion would be bold and flaming hot.

“So, Katie Lyons,” he said softly as he took a step toward her. “Let’s make that deal I mentioned.”

Her eyes went wide, suspicion flickering in their depths. “What kind of deal?”

“The way I see it,” he said as he closed the distance between them, “we have two options for dealing with our situation.”

She swallowed and then tilted her chin up defiantly. “Okay, I’ll bite. What two options are those?”

He took another step. She didn’t move. She stood her ground with that tough facade, but he knew she was wavering by the flash of nervousness in her eyes.

“We could fight all day and all night,” he said. He stopped in front of her, close. So close all he had to do was lift his arms to touch her. Damn, he loved her scent, a soft floral something. He wasn’t much of a flower guy, but he thought maybe honeysuckle. Sweet. A contradiction from her tough exterior, a detail that ripened his assessment of her to downright delicious.

“Or?” she prodded, refusing to back away. Damn, she had spunk. That made him hot.

“Or we can get right to the root of the problem and be done with it.” He shifted closer to her, his lips lingering above hers. “Now would be a good time for that knee if you don’t want to be kissed.” He reached for her, pulling her close, molding her sexy, taut body to his. He didn’t give her time to object. His mouth closed down on hers.

He kissed her, prodding her into a response. She started to resist, her palms pressed against his chest, her spine stiff. But when his tongue dipped into her mouth and brushed hers, she whimpered. Her lips softened, her body warmed. She melted and gave him what he really wanted. Her surrender.

KATIE COULD NOT stop kissing Luke Winter. The man deserved that well-placed knee for daring to kiss her, on top of being a complete, utter ass. And she’d give him that knee. Soon. Very soon. Right after she finished kissing him. And, oh, God, was she kissing him. The kind of kissing that screamed Strip me naked and have your way with me. Worse, no matter how hard she willed herself to pull away from such abandon, Katie couldn’t do it. She was drowning in sexy male seduction and couldn’t find the desire to escape. Which led her to one conclusion—Luke Winter had a magic tongue. It was the only explanation for the drugging effect of his kiss, the only explanation for the dull, wonderful ache that spread through her limbs and coiled in her stomach. When was the last time a man had accomplished such a feat? A year? Almost two?

So when he said, “Tell me this feels as good to you as it does to me,” with his lips lingering above hers, a whisper from another caress, Katie tried to say no, but she was afraid he would stop kissing her.

Instead, she whispered, “Yes.” And it was breathless. Hungry.

Bingo. He kissed her again.

She knew she should be pushing him away, but…he tasted and felt so darn good. She was human after all, and he was…well, he was a damn good kisser.

And try as she might to ignore the reaction her body was having to him, she couldn’t. She wanted him. Bad.

But this was just a kiss. No harm, no foul. At least, in her desire-stricken state, that was the logic she decided to cling to. Later she would chastise herself. Not now.

Besides, it had been an eternity, or so it seemed, since she had been thoroughly kissed. His tongue played along the sides of hers, and Katie moaned without any possible hope of restraining the sound.

There was something so warm, so alluringly perfect about his kisses. Perhaps the way he used his lips to caress hers, or maybe it was the way his tongue did this slow, seductive dance along hers.

Or was there more?

Some kind of unique chemistry between them perhaps?

Slowly, he pulled away from her, coming back for a brief nibble, before staring down at her with a probing, heated gaze.

Without thought, a sigh of pure female satisfaction slipped from her mouth.

He smiled in return—clearly proud of making her act in such a way—but Katie didn’t find the smile offensive, surprisingly. She knew he had enjoyed kissing her, as well.

His hand slid beneath her hair, his callused fingers caressing her neck with delicious friction. “Katie—”

Someone cleared their throat at the doorway, a distinctly feminine sound, drawing their attention. Shocked at someone else’s presence, Katie instantly moved to take a step backward. Luke quickly settled his hands around her waist, holding her there against him. Katie cast him a disbelieving look and had opened her mouth to complain when he whispered, “Remember your cover. We’re dating.”

“I think we’re about to have our first fight,” she ground out, giving him her best evil glare, intended for perps under arrest but quite effective with low-life athletes who couldn’t keep it in their pants. Her attention shifted to the visitor, a woman—no, girl—not more than nineteen. Distress etched her youthful features, a frown on her heart-shaped face. Her faded, ripped jeans and pretty yellow lace blouse were as youthful as the highlights streaking her long, dark hair. A sick feeling gathered in Katie’s stomach. Apparently, Luke Winter liked them young, and he didn’t care if he had more than one woman in his house at once. She visualized the pleasure she’d get from a well-placed knee, something she should have already given him. Pig!

“Hi, Jessica,” Luke said. “Katie, this—”