Page 1 of Love on the Line

Chapter 1

Anne Cooper eyedthe tray of tequila and kamikaze shots on the high table. Her friends grabbed one of each. Much as she’d like to join them, as the designated driver, she’d stick with water, and her stomach would thank her in the morning. Mixing shots was the kiss of death.

Mostly, she wanted to be there for Emily, who worked nonstop and deserved a night out to celebrate her birthday. With a spreadsheet and a calendar, Anne had compared everyone’s schedules. Finally, she’d managed to find a date that worked for all of them. Thanks to her careful planning, she had all of her friends together. Her heart swelled with satisfaction.

Emily ran a hand through her curly red hair and pouted. “Have a drink. I want you to have fun. We can get a ride.”

“Relax, I’m enjoying myself,” Anne shouted over the band blasting alternative rock music from across the sports bar. Besides, she was more of a wine-sipping kind of girl. Hard liquor went straight to her head, and she didn’t like to feel out of control.

She glanced at the guitar player jamming on the small stage. Maybe she could ask the band to play Emily’s favorite song. Approaching a singer and drawing attention to herself made her pulse skitter, but what the hell. She’d do it for her best friend, who always had Anne’s back. Besides, at thirty-two it’s not like she was some shy teenager.

Trish, their server, was nowhere in sight. Anne pointed to her empty glass, using it as an excuse to slip away. “I’ll be right back.”

She weaved through the crowd, dodging servers carrying trays with pitchers of beer and fried wings. Baltimore Orioles pennants and Ravens pictures covered every inch of the walls. Even though she didn’t follow sports, she at least knew the team colors, since her fifth-graders proudly wore their purple football jerseys to school.

The band announced they were taking a break, and the noise level returned to normal. Perfect. She’d grab a water and muster up the courage to make a request.

She spied an empty seat at the bar and hurried to the only open spot. As she slid the chair out, a man in the midst of an animated conversation waved a hand, bumping her shoulder. Cold soda spilled on her arm, and she jumped.

He whirled around, his mouth agape. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you behind me.”

Her breath caught as eyes the color of emeralds stared down at her. Way down, because the guy stood an easy foot taller. Blond hair highlighted his tanned face, which would be flawless if not for a few faint scars and a less-than-perfectly-straight nose that somehow added character.

Her heart thumped in her chest, and she blinked.

He snagged a handful of cocktail napkins as she held her arm away from her body so the drink wouldn’t drip onto her jeans or shoes. At least some part of her brain hadn’t seized. He placed a warm hand under her elbow for support and dabbed the napkins over her wet arm.

“Um…it’s okay.” She fumbled to take them from him, paying no attention to his bulging biceps. Not at all.

“Nice move, slick,” came a voice from behind him.

Anne glanced at the beefy, dark-haired man with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That’s John. Ignore him. He has no manners,” Mister Biceps said. He released her elbow, wiped his palm on his jeans and extended his hand. “I’m Wyatt.”

She shook his hand, and an electric current tingled up her arm. Something in his eyes flashed. Maybe he’d felt it, too? Her gaze traveled from his massive chest to his broad shoulders. Either the place had shrunk, or this giant of a man had filled it. “I’m Anne.”

“Hey, you gonna buy the lady a drink or what, superjock?” John asked.

Wyatt must have given a quick kick to John because he jerked on the bar stool and laughed. He leaned across the counter and said something to the bartender, who nodded, not breaking his rhythm pouring shots.

“My friend has a good point. Can I buy you a drink to make up for this?” Wyatt waved at her arm, which had bits of paper stuck to it from the napkin dabbing.

She brushed back a few strands of hair. Her stomach clenched. The guy was smoking hot, and the scent of his cologne was making her heady. Even so, she couldn’t go there. The next guy she dated wouldn’t be someone she met in a bar and knew nothing about. She’d closed that door and sealed the windows. But there he stood, jiggling the locks.

“Well …” She glanced across the room to her table. “I’m with friends.”

The bartender placed a drink with a pink umbrella in front of Wyatt, and faced Anne.

“What can I get for you?” he asked.

“A water, please.”

He filled a glass and slid it over to her.

Wyatt shook his head, plucked the umbrella from his drink, and twirled it in front of John’s face. “Seriously? You ordered a Shirley Temple for me?”

John smirked and took a pull of his beer.

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