Page 16 of Ruthless Wars

After leaving my offerings on the table, I give Jared a rushed order and then return, pleased to find she’s scooched aside, giving me room to slide in beside her.

“Your snack is on its way. I’ll take that name now, temptress.”

“Margot.”

“Coop,” I say, scooting just close enough to catch the allure of her scent. The perfume is light but unfamiliar and blends seductively with her own essence.

I lose myself for a moment, imagining smothering my face in those silky waves framing her neck, eagerly discovering where the perfume ends and the sultry woman wearing it begins.

“Coop,” she says slowly, repeating my name with a pop of the p, seeming to enjoy the tickle on those soft lips she’s already teasing me with. “What are we drinking to?” she asks, slowly tracing the rim of her glass with her finger.

I’ve never wanted to be a glass so badly in my life.

“To you, Margot. The stunning cherry on top of one hell of a day.”

The reluctance she takes in clinking her glass to mine doesn’t go unnoticed, but I let it go, focusing instead on moving a few things aside as Jared approaches. He places a rustic tray of charcuterie in the center of the table, with a small assortment of fresh fruits, cheeses, sliced meats, nuts, and a small bowl of dark Luxardo cherries, glossy and dripping with syrup.

Margot’s delighted smile does something to me. And watching her take no time to stab a cherry with a small appetizer fork makes me chuckle.

“Well,” she says, beaming at me, “between the delicious drink and making a perfect assortment of goodies appear out of nowhere, you sure know how to lift a girl’s spirits.”

“I’m a full-service waiter slash pimp slash cameraman. Speaking of which, would you really do two men at once?”

“Would?” She arches a brow at me. “What makes you think I haven’t already?”

Awestruck, I stare.

“And don’t give me that look, Coop.”

“What look?”

Licking an errant drop of syrup from her lush lower lip, Margot runs her heated gaze over me, sweeping an extra-long and obvious pass at my package before meeting my eyes. “That look of innocence. You’ve had your share of double the action, double the fun.”

My smile widens. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Your sculpted physique barely hidden beneath a supremely tailored suit. The boyish grin with well-trained dimples that fill your every smile with pure debauchery. The dangerous combination of sincerity and sin in your eyes. You could have your pick of any woman in this place, and they’d be all over you like a pair of chaps. Instead, you’re devoting your time and attention on me—a girl drowning her sorrows in bourbon and cherries.” Skeptically, she lifts a brow. “Why?”

I take a sip, then give her an answer so candid, it surprises even me. “Fate.”

Suspicion lights her playful squint. “You believe in fate?”

“I don’t have a choice. I was looking for something tonight. Something I needed.” I take a quick sip, realizing oversharing might not be the best strategy. But I continue. “And here you are.”

She studies me for a drawn-out moment with a look of longing that’s pained and unmistakable.

“You know, I actually tried finding you.” I nudge her shoulder with mine, noticing her smile shying away.

“What did you find?” she asks, losing her gaze in her bourbon.

“Not you. Only a few women in Dallas owned a McLaren Spider, and since none of them were a gorgeous blonde who pulls part-time work as an auto mechanic, my first hunch had to be right.”

That catches her attention, and with her eyes fixed on me, all I can do is imagine the look in them when I’m pressing deep inside her.

“What hunch?”

“You were obviously on the run from the law. Grand theft auto. And what can I say? I’m a sucker for a hot girl on the lam.” I brush a strand of her soft, wavy, honey-blonde hair behind an ear.

The way her face moves against my fingers intrigues me. Like, she’s aching to be touched. I cup her cheek, and she nuzzles into it. She needs it.

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