Page 17 of Luck of the Draw

The curious feeling of energy distracted Brennan momentarily until a tug at his neck indicated Skye grabbed his tie, and that was all the invitation he needed to slip his opposite hand over her jaw. She responded by parting her lips, inviting him in, and it was probably the hurricane, but he couldn’t remember the last time a woman’s mouth was this delicious.

The delectable taste of her mouth intensified the strange energy, and a champagne bubbles sensation swelled in his chest, all the while he was drowning in a sense of fatalism. And that had only happened to him once before.

The moment he saw Liza step into his cab a year ago.

Before Brennan had a chance to psychoanalyze himself and the strange feeling, all the blood rushed south from his brain to his cock. His slacks were suddenly a little tight, and everything below his belt demanded that he buck his insistence upon doing things the right way and just drag her a couple of blocks over to his place so they could get to the main event.

But no. Brennan had standards for a reason. His lifestyle tiptoed the line between romanticism and being a total sleaze, and he was definitelynota sleaze.

“I’m sorry,” Skye murmured against his mouth. Her fingers slipped from his tie to stroke across his chest. “That was so insensitive and in such poor taste.”

“Please don’t worry about it, darlin’,” he said against her lips. If she wasn’t pulling away, he wasn’t going to either.

She inclined her head forward so that her lips traced a line from his cheekbone to his earlobe. “I think you’re heroic.”

Andyeah…she was definitely from a small town somewhere.

She could be evasive all she wanted, but Brennan was an old pro, and he could figure out any woman’s backstory from merely her choice of words and behavior. Skye was probably from some suburban or rural town in one of the neighboring states. Texas, Mississippi, or Arkansas. Maybe Oklahoma. She was from some place with solid American values, where people lived for God and country; where people saw the uniform or knew his history and automatically called him a hero without knowing anything else about him. And that was fine. Particularly because people like that tended to romanticize the whole veteran thing and excuse his rakish behavior—all of which contributed to nailing his end game, which of course was nailingher, albeit in the most gentlemanly way possible.

Brennan tilted his head to kiss the spot below her ear. “You’re generous.” He pulled his face away and smiled at her. “I bet you’re starving, too.”

A smile quirked Skye’s mouth. “Actually, I am.”

He knocked on the bar and gestured at the bartender.

“Yes sir!” she called from the opposite end of the bar.

“Can I close out?”

“Sure thing, darlin’.”

Brennan turned to Skye, standing and offering his hand. “I’m going to take you somewhere to eat so you can get a proper introduction to my city.”

She grinned widely, taking his hand and standing as well. “Your city.”

He lifted his arms at his sides, palms up, in a grand gesture at the bar. “My city. I own this town.” He dropped his arms to his sides and slipped his hands in his pockets. “Quite literally in some instances.”

She screwed up her face, but still looked amused. “What does that mean?”

“It means approximately one-third of the real estate downtown and Crescent City Coffee Traders.”

Her eyebrows lifted, and her jaw fell open. “Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, my family does.” Brennan lifted his index finger. “And I’m only telling you that because I don’t want you protesting when I insist upon paying.” He reached for her hand to lift it to his lips and kiss the back of it. “You’re visiting my city. You’re here by yourself. You wanted an adventure. I’m going to give you one.”

Skye gave a nervous laugh, her gaze darting all over the place.

“But don’t feel obligated,” he added quickly. “The point is to have a good time. If you had other things in mind, please feel free to decline, and I promise there’ll be no hard feelings.”

Her pale blue eyes speared his for a moment before they slid to his lips. “I’m not declining. I just thinkyouare the generous one.”

“Nah.” Brennan hitched his shoulders. “It’ll be fun for me, too. I don’t get to be a tourist around here very often, and it’s admittedly a guilty pleasure.”

The bartender placed his credit card and a ticket on the bar, and after signing—with only a tiny thought given to his brand fucking new financial situation—Brennan pocketed his wallet, picked up the handle of her suitcase, and placed his hand on the small of her back.

“Shall we?”

She nodded. “It’s on like Donkey Kong.”

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