Page 2 of A Sinful Gift

“Is this guy bothering you, sweetheart?” a deep, gravelly voice asked.

Both she and Blake turned to look at the absolute mountain of a man standing behind them. He was fair-haired, with a faint tan and stunning brown eyes that were currently fixed in a stone-cold glare at London.

“He... Um...” Hazel couldn’t think past how hot the stranger was. She never imagined she’d ever meet a man who could give Blake a run for his money in the looks department. But this man... He had that all-American, classic boy-next-door look, but he was built like a tank. Her gaze dropped instantly to his hips, which were narrow.

She gave herself a mental shake to try to free herself of the sudden image of a man this size between her thighs, pounding her into oblivion. Hazel took a drink and licked the chocolate off her lips. It had to be the martini. Chocolate always made her think about sex.

Her self-appointed rescuer wore dark blue jeans, work boots, and a black-and-blue flannel shirt. He looked like a sexy lumberjack come to life. There was a boyish charm to him, even though his hard and chiseled features were intensely masculine. She didn’t see men like this in the Golden Lair that often... maybe not ever. Most men who came to this bar were like Blake, wearing expensive suits, reeking of high-dollar cologne. This man stood close enough that she could breathe in his scent. No cologne, just a clean, masculine scent with a hint of soap that smelled like pine.

“Tell him I’m not bothering you, Callahan,” Blake ordered, his tone quiet but hard.

The mountain man’s gaze cut to Hazel, searching her eyes. “I don’t mind throwing trash out. You give the word and he’s gone, sweetheart.” The way he saidsweetheartwasn’t patronizing like it would be from most men who didn’t know her. No, when he said it, it felt like a true endearment, as though he was the sort of man who saw every woman in his life as sweet, and the word came from a place of affection.

Damn...

Blake, never the type to back down from a fight, pushed off his stool and stood toe to toe with the other man. They were of a similar height. An electric charge shot between them, a violent aura of two males in their prime ready to kill over a female. Until that moment, Hazel never thought she would like the idea of anyone fighting over her, but something about these two men sent a flood of wet heat between her thighs, forcing her to squeeze her legs together and self-consciously tug at the hem of her dress.

“Ma’am?” The man’s gravelly voice raked deliciously over her skin, and her nipples pebbled at the sound.

“Um...” Why was she having trouble speaking? She was a lawyer; speaking was her job. But damned if she wasn’t tongue-tied by this entire situation.

“Callahan,” Blake warned, and she recognized that voice. It held a warning.

The last time he’d used that voice, he’d had her bottom in the air, spanking it hard enough it brought tears to her eyes and made her beg for more, more of him, more of all the dark, sinful pleasures only he seemed to know how to awaken in her.

“I think the lady’s hesitation means you need to take a walk.” The man jerked his head toward the front door of the club.

Blake stared at him for a long moment, and Hazel held her breath. Blake had every right to be confident. He was a fighter, a man who could hold his own in a fistfight just as easily as he did in boardrooms and courtrooms. But wisely, he chose not to fight her rescuer tonight.

“Fine.” Blake’s hard stare softened as he looked at Hazel. “As promised this afternoon, you will have my client’s signed contract in your inbox tomorrow morning.” He was once more focused on business, and Hazel breathed a sigh of relief when he put on his coat. He threw back the rest of his whiskey in a hard gulp, set the glass down, and without a glance at the mountain man, left the bar.

“Asshole,” the flannel-wearing man said as he took a seat a few stools away from Hazel and ordered an old-fashioned from the bartender.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Hazel murmured to him.

“No problem. Some men need to learn that no means no, and when a woman wants to drink alone at a bar, that’s her business and not an invitation.”

Hazel chuckled. “You sound like a Boy Scout.”

The man flashed her a boyish grin that hit her behind the knees. “Eagle Scout, ma’am.” He gave her the three-fingered Boy Scout salute. A blush worked its way up her neck to her face, and she nearly asked him about all the different knots he could tie around a girl. But she stopped herself just in time. Damn, this martini was working some black magic in her.

The man left her alone to enjoy her drink. The silence was pleasant. Sometimes a man expected to get something from a woman for saving her from a bad situation. But this guy didn’t. He was a perfect gentleman.

By the time she finished her drink, she was feeling a bit lightheaded. It was entirely her fault for ordering a cocktail without any dinner. She used her phone to call a cab and then stood, wavering a little on her feet.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The man caught her elbow as she clutched the bar with her other arm to steady herself. She wasn’t drunk, but she was definitely buzzed.

“Yeah. I don’t drink that often, and I really should have had something to eat before ordering that martini.”

“You should wait here and sober up,” he advised. “I can have the bartender get you a bottle of water.”

“No, it’s okay. I called a cab.” She bit her lip, staring at the front door. What were the chances that Blake might be waiting out front to talk to her again? Probably minimal, but she didn’t want to risk it.

“Would you mind walking me to my car? The cab should be here in a couple of minutes to pick me up.” She retrieved her phone and texted the driver to meet her at the rear entrance of the bar instead of out front.

“You want to go out the back?” The man’s blond hair fell into his eyes as he studied the exit door skeptically.

“Yes. I told my cabdriver to meet me there. You don’t mind walking with me, do you?”

---