Turn and Burn (Blacktop Cowboys 5)

“You done looking your fill? Or did you want me to turn around so you can ogle my ass too?”

“Better to know up front that I’m staring at your package, and not considering the size of your wallet, don’tcha think?” Tanna retorted with saccharine sweetness.

He laughed. A deep, sexy rumble that caused a little flip in her belly. “So will you let me buy you a beer if I pull out my wallet?”

“If you’re sure you wanna spend money on an ex-con.”

“You’re not an ex-con by any stretch of your imagination.” He waved down the bartender. “But I am interested to hear which lie I’ll rate.” He shot her a grin. “I’m hoping you’ll claim to be a secret agent.”

Tanna leaned across the bar. “Got a Bond girl fantasy you wanna tell me about, ace?”

“I’m more a fan of Lara Croft or Sydney Bristow. Chicks who kick ass turn my crank.”

“Hot women who know how to kill and how to dress to kill are the ultimate asset.”

“Oh, those women ain’t got nothin’ on you in the asset department.” His gaze dipped to the deep V of her cle**age.

It didn’t bother her that he was blatantly checking out her rack. When he finally dragged his gaze to hers again, the unbridled lust in his eyes sent a wave of liquid heat through her.

“You are trouble,” she murmured, unable to look away from him. Something about this man pulled her in and revved her up.

“No more trouble than you are, spy girl.” He held out a twenty for the bartender without breaking eye contact. “You wanna grab us a booth and we’ll talk about what kinda trouble we can get into together?”

She nodded. Just as she stepped back, a man jockeying for her spot at the bar jostled her, sending her off balance. Her tall, dark and handsome stranger kept her from falling by using a firm arm to pull her forward. Her br**sts met the hard wall of his chest and all the air left her lungs in a rush. Good God was he solid.

He sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden intimate contact.

The side of her face smashed against his pectorals. She remained like that, inhaling his scent until he tugged on her hair to get her attention. She glanced up into his eyes, feeling a blast of pure sexual heat.

“Might be dangerous to keep looking at me like that,” he said softly.

“Because you’re afraid I wanna do more than look at you?”

“No.” His rough-edged fingertip traced a line down her neck, from the dent in her chin to the start of her cle**age. “But maybe I want more than you’re willing to give.”

Tanna stared at him. Normally such blatant sexual talk so soon after meeting had her stepping back. But something about this man kept her right where she was—completely entranced by him.

“Say the word, sugar twang, and I’ll walk away.”

“And if I don’t want you to walk away?” she countered boldly.

“Then our night just got a whole lot more interesting.”

“Sounds good to me.” Opening her mouth over the hard curve of his pectorals, she blew a stream of hot air through the shirt, then lightly bit down. “I’m game for whatever you’ve got in mind.”

“Grab your beer.” He led them to the only unoccupied booth, by the front door.

She slid into the bench seat opposite him and raised her bottle for a toast.

“What’re we toasting to?”

“Ex-cons and little white lies.” She smirked. “And a guy with a big . . . bullshit meter.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He grinned.

Sweet Lord. There was damn dangerous wattage in those pearly whites of his.

He rested his massive shoulders against the back of the booth. “So, what’s your name besides Hot Trouble?”

Tanna shook her head. “How about if we keep it simple and don’t exchange names?”

He didn’t even blink. “Because you’d probably give me a fake one anyway.”

“Yep. I see this ain’t your first go-round in this type of rodeo either, cowboy.”

“I’m good with no names—I like ‘sugar twang’ better anyway—but there are a couple of basic questions I’ve gotta ask first.”

“Shoot.”

The twinkle vanished from his eyes. “You’re not married and out on the town looking for one night with a stranger to cure your marital boredom?”

“No, sir. I don’t cheat. So no boyfriend either.” She pointed with her beer bottle. “Back atcha.”

“No significant other in my life. Or in my bed on a regular basis.”

“That clears that up. Next question.”

His eyes flicked to the bandage on her forehead. “What happened there?”

“Nothin’. It’s a prop to garner sympathy, start conversations and con men into buying me drinks.”

That seemed to amuse him rather than annoy him. “What brings you to Rawlins, Wyoming?”

“Just passing through on my way to start a new job.” Not exactly a lie. “What about you?”

“I’m on the road a lot too.” He let his bottle dangle a couple of inches above the table and swung it like a pendulum. “You’re not really on the run from an ex?”

Tanna snickered. “Nope. I’m just killing time in a honky-tonk before I move on.”

“So you’re not looking for Mr. Right?”

“More like looking for Mr. Right Now.”