Page 41 of Pulse

Her face heated. “Margo, you can’t possibly be encouraging me to pursue a client.”

She shrugged. “Normally, I would not, but it’s you. You’re too serious. You need someone to shake your life up a little, and I think Mr. Sexy Biker Nurse might be just the guy to do it.”

Guilt over not sharing the truth about Pulse wormed its way under Talia’s skin, but she couldn’t say anything. On top of not feeling comfortable sharing someone else’s secret, Margo would worry herself sick. Besides, this entire conversation was ludicrous. Even if she didn’t have massive intimacy issues, she wouldn’t go after a client. It was unprofessional and the kind of thing that could ruin her reputation in law circles.

“I’m not starting anything with Pulse.”

“Oh, his name is Pulse? Is that because he makes yours race?”

“Oh my God.” She swatted a laughing Margo’s arm. “You have problems. Serious problems.”

Her friend’s laugh turned into a cackle. “Come on. I’ve been married to the same man for more than a decade. Give me something to live vicariously through.”

“Please. I’ve seen the way your husband drools whenever you’re around. You probably have a better sex life than most honeymooners.”

Margo’s eyes went dreamy. “Yeah. We really do.”

After that, the conversation shifted from Talia’s issues to Margo’s family—thank God. They chatted for another twenty minutes before Margo ushered Talia out the door and to her car with strict orders to send a picture of her outfit for approval before heading to the barbecue.

That wasn’t going to happen.

She’d find something sensible and modest to wear that wouldn’t draw unprofessional attention.

But as she stood in her closet an hour later, she couldn’t help but remember the feel of Pulse pressed against her last weekend. His heat, scent, and those eyes Margo correctly described as smoldering. Before she knew it, she found herself reaching for the pair of denim shorts Margo claimed made her ass look like a snack and a hunter-green ribbed tank that fit her like a second skin. Nothing fancy or flashy, but tight enough to be considered sexy.

Hopefully.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“SHE’S HERE! I’M so glad.”

Pulse glanced from where he was flipping burgers to Liv, who smiled and waved toward the side of the clubhouse. He followed her gaze only to halt mid-burger flip.

“Who’s here, babe?” Spec wandered over, beer in hand. “Oh, that’s Talia, right? I liked her. She seems badass.”

“I like her too. And she’s super badass. I don’t know why, but I get the feeling she needs us in her life.” Liv accepted a kiss on the cheek from her ol’ man, who chuckled.

“My little savior, always collecting strays.” He slid his arm around Liv’s waist and tucked her into his side.

No matter how often he scolded himself, Pulse couldn’t stop the uneasy itch at the base of his spine when Spec came near him. It started after his arrest and worsened after he confessed his past to Talia. Spec would figure it out. It was only a matter of time before the DEA got annoyed enough to drop a hint. The club’s enforcer was intelligent and tenacious. Spec would run with whatever morsel they fed him and uncover Pulse’s deep, dark secret.

He’d spent the last week trying to act normal around the man while in a constant state of heightened anxiety.

Liv stood near the grill with a platter of open hamburger buns, ready for Pulse to deposit the cooked meat. “What can I say?” She hip-checked her ol’ man. “I want everyone to be as happy as I am.”

“Well, I’m not sure that’s possible. I mean, there’s only one of me and one of my dick, so unless you want to share, no one can ever be as hap… oof!” Spec laughed and rubbed his ribs where Liv’s sharp elbow made contact.

Pulse let their flirty banter fade to the background as he focused on the woman walking toward them from the clubhouse. Christ, what the hell was she wearing? Those damn shorts should be criminal. Any man who stood behind her would be helpless to look anywhere but at her ass. What the hell happened to her conservative professional outfits?

It’s a barbecue, idiot. Did you expect her to show up in a suit?

The skintight tank top had him fighting off a damn stiffy like a fucking horny teenager.

Who told her dark green was his favorite color?

The only thing that kept him from actively drooling was the wariness in her gaze. She hadn’t walked so stiff and tense even the day she’d come to the shelter’s grand opening without knowing anyone. Her shoulders were so bunched they nearly hit her ears, and her eyes held a wariness he wouldn’t have expected from someone who regularly faced hungry prosecutors in court. Talia was uncomfortable as hell, and he was most likely the reason.

Fantastic.

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