Undercover Engagement (Private Pleasures 5)

Swain nodded to the tall, skinny, dark-haired guy in a T-shirt and jeans. “Mike Swain.”

Dobie took a swig from the bottle of beer he’d left on the pool table and then aimed puppy-dog eyes at Eden. “This he

re is Eden. Shoots pool like a pro. Looks like a model. Has the prettiest laugh I’ve ever heard.” If puppy-dog eyes could go heart-shaped, the kid pulled it off. “Eden, you’re, like, my dream girl.”

“Mine, too,” Swain interjected, stepping up beside her and draping his arm around her shoulders. “That’s why I put a ring on it. Right, choux?” Letting his smile go slightly feral, he turned to Dobie. “But you’ve got good taste.”

And now the guy looked like a puppy who’d just lost his shiny new toy to the big alpha dog. Shock came into his eyes first, then dismay at the unfairness of fate and nature, and then—there it was—resignation. Like most affable creatures, he recovered from disappointment quickly. “Well, Swain.” Dobie held out a hand and shook his. “Guess I owe you two.”

“How’s that?”

“One for saving me from a beatdown, and one for beautifying our town.” He tipped his head to Eden.

“Smooth.” Kenny grinned and clinked his beer to Dobie’s.

“Gentlemen, the pleasure is all mine,” he replied. Eden rolled her eyes. Kenny laughed. Dobie laughed as well, but his expression turned wistful. Oh yeah, she had that one hook, line, and sinker.

“Rematch?” Kenny asked Eden. “Gimme a chance to earn back that drink?”

He responded before she could agree. “Sorry, guys. Gotta steal my girl away for a dance, if you don’t mind?”

Now both their expressions turned wistful. “Sure. Sure,” Dobie said. “We’ll catch up with y’all later.”

“Later.” Eden waved as he tugged her toward the dance floor. When they were a comfortable distance from her adoring acquaintances, she whispered, “I don’t dance, Swain.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t your mom a ballerina?”

“Okay, fine. I don’t want to—”

“Go with the flow, choux.” He led her onto the small dance floor, turned to her, and put his hands on her hips. The first notes of “Cowboy Take Me Away” filled the room while he pulled her close. The amplified guitar chords vibrated along the floorboards and through his boots. On a long exhale, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and clasped her hands at the back of his neck. They swayed together as the singer implored a cowboy to take her closer to heaven.

“That was an unexpected stroke of luck back there,” she murmured. “I’m glad nobody got hurt.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to come clean. “I made that luck.”

She eased back and looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Let’s just say I caught a fuse already half-lit and tossed it in a useful direction.”

Her lips turned down at the corners, instantly transforming confusion to disapproval. “Why? Why draw attention like that? Why risk getting punched—or getting me punched? Or, hell, risk me punching him and getting us both kicked out? I was ready to take that guy down.”

“Yeah, you were,” he conceded and pulled her in again. “Nobody was going to get punched. I had the situation under control from the jump. If I hadn’t, I sure as hell wouldn’t have let the guy get within an inch of you.” Before she could argue her ability to handle herself in a physical altercation, he went on. “As for why? Because it helps us. Now I’m their hero. Instant trust established, and Dobie, by his own estimate, owes me a favor.”

She let out a breath. “You really are quite the manipulator, aren’t you?”

Guilty, though suddenly not so proud of it, because instead of admiration in her tone, he heard unease. Distrust, even. Strangely defensive, he rolled a shoulder. “Everybody manipulates. Everybody works their angle. I’m just better at it than most.”

“Is that a fact, Swain?”

He nodded. “You know it. I’m a con man born and bred. Thanks to nature and nurture, those skills run all the way through me. All the way down to my foundations. Best remember that, choux.”

“Remember you’re not to be trusted?”

“Exactly.” Maybe just to make her as edgy as he now felt, he held her tight against him again, but instead of resisting, she went with it.

They spent the next few moments in silence, slowly swaying to the music. Her body felt close to heaven against his. They fit together like she’d been made for him. Or he for her. Like they’d been made for each other. He let his hands roam over the curves of her hips and justified it on the grounds of their cover. “Impressions tonight?” he whispered in her ear.

“Primarily? That you’re going to lose your hands if you keep that up.”