What the hell ever.
All Drake knew was that his voice usually got action.
It got action right then, too. The woman gave a yelp, and the man swore.
But the fool didn’t let the lady go.
Jasmine.
Drake liked that name.
“This is personal, buddy,” the man snapped at him. “You just need to mind your own business.”
“Oh, but it is my business.” Drake waved a hand toward the parking garage. “My casino, my club, my parking garage. All very much my business.” He cocked his head as he studied his prey. “So when a lady gets accosted at my place, well, you can imagine that tends to piss me off.” He kept his eyes on the man. The guy had dark hair, thinning a bit, a broad forehead, and a too perfect tan. Drake pretty much hated the fool on sight. “Let her go,” Drake ordered, “then get the hell off my property.”
More footsteps pounded in that stairwell. Drake’s gaze lifted just a bit, moving over the man’s shoulder. The security team was right on time.
Swallowing, the guy dropped his hold. “This is a huge mistake,” he began.
Nodding, Drake said, “Yes, it is.”
The redhead quickly made her way to Drake’s side. As she neared, Drake caught the sweet rush of her vanilla scent.
“No!” The man’s face had flushed a dark red. “You don’t know who she is! She’s—”
“Some men just can’t take no for an answer,” the redhead murmured. “You would think when a woman ran away that would be enough of a clue.”
The guy growled and lunged toward her.
The security team locked their arms around him and jerked the idiot right back.
And the redhead sidled even closer to Drake. That vanilla scent was tempting. The lady smelled good enough to eat.
Drake had a very big appetite.
“Get him off my property,” Drake ordered. He pointed at the struggling SOB. “If I ever see you at any of my casinos or clubs again,” and Archer Entertainment was becoming huge, “then you’re going to be sorry.” Because Drake knew too many ways to make a man pay.
He had his own law. His own rules.
The redhead’s hand curled around Drake’s arm. “I-I…thank you.”
The guards hauled away the jerk. But he kept shouting. Dumbass. The man didn’t know when to shut up.
“You’re the one who’ll be sorry!” The words thundered from the dumbass in question. “I’m Wayne Hardin. I’m a bounty—”
Heavy, metal doors swung shut behind him, finally stopping the guy’s snarling words.
The woman stepped in front of Drake. She was about five foot eight, maybe five nine so she had to tilt her head back to stare up at him. This close, he could see that her skin was a light gold, and a faint dusting of freckles scattered across her nose. Her eyes were dark—deep. He hadn’t expected that darkness. Her lips were red and full.
A beauty, no doubt, with her heart-shaped face, sharp cheekbones, and kiss-me lips. Plump, full, and red, those lips begged him to take a bite.
Her body was slender, but curved in all the right places. And her scent…
“Maybe you shouldn’t kiss strangers…” His words came out as a growl. “That’s a real bad habit, princess.”
She nodded, but then said, “Desperate times can call for desperate actions.”
Those sure weren’t the words he’d expected. He leaned toward her.
“You’re Drake Archer.”
“Guilty.” He’d confessed to owning the casino, so her knowing his identity wasn’t exactly a huge surprise. He’d made headlines in the Vegas press when he opened the Archer’s Arrow Casino a month before. He owned four other casinos, but three of them were in Biloxi, Mississippi, and his biggest place was in New Orleans.
He was already jonesing for a trip back to the Big Easy. That place had become home for him.
And I’ll be heading home very soon.
She smiled up at him. Her smile took him off-guard because he hadn’t anticipated the woman’s dimples. Cute, curving dimples that winked on either side of her mouth.
The lady was sexy. She had deep, dark, bedroom eyes. Curves that made him hard.
And…a damn cute smile.
“Thanks for being my hero tonight, Drake Archer.”
He had to laugh at that. “Trust me, I’m not exactly hero material.” He was more used to playing the villain of the piece.
She was still touching him. He was far too aware of her touch. He could actually feel the warmth of her hand through his suit coat. What was up with that?
“Why did you kiss him?” Wait, shit, had he just asked that question?
Her head tilted a little to the right as she studied him. “You were watching me.”
He didn’t reply. She already knew he’d been watching from upstairs. She’d crooked that finger, after all.
And here I am.
His shoulders stiffened as he stepped away from her.
She blinked a few times, appearing a bit lost.
“If you’d wanted to get fucked…” he said, and it wasn’t hard to make his voice cold and unemotional. Plenty of folks said that ice water ran through his veins, not blood. “Then all you had to do was ask.”
Her lips parted in surprise, but she didn’t speak.
Fair enough. Drake gave a little nod. He’d never been the sort to ask twice. He also wasn’t the romancing kind. “You’ll be safe for the rest of the night. My men won’t let that guy get within fifty feet of the Arrow.” But now it was time for him to leave. He’d thought that getting close to her would satisfy his curiosity. He’d been wrong.
Instead of being satisfied, he wanted to learn more about her.
Drake knew that was a definite sign he needed to back off. He eased to the side. Straightened his coat. And took a step forward.
“You’re just…going to leave me now?”
She had a faint accent in her voice. There one second, gone the next. Definitely something from the West. Maybe Texas? There were times when Drake’s voice slipped, too, and he let his southern accent roll out with a hard rumble.
That usually happened when he was angry. Or aroused.
“Head back into the club,” he told her and he didn’t look back as he began to make his way toward the elevator that would take him to his private lounge. “I’ll send orders for the bartender to give you whatever you want—”
“I know what I want.” Her voice was soft. Seductive.
Drake stopped.
“I-I have to ask, though…is that the way it works?”
His back teeth clenched.
“The ladies you take upstairs to your private room…they all ask?”
Those women knew the rules going in. Sex. Hot. Fast. Hard. No promises. No ties.
Ties were the last thing he wanted.