Night Heat (Forged of Steele 2)

“You are, too. Admit it.”

“Okay, I like to win.”

“So do I.”

“You know I’m going to want a rematch.”

“We’ll see.” And with that said, she disappeared inside her bedroom.

Bas couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped his lips. Damn, he had spent the last two hours racking up over a billion points and still had lost to a female hotshot. The number of bonus points she’d gotten was downright sickening.

He shook his head, not believing he had actually taken time away from work to play a damn game of pinball. It had been the weirdest thing how his adrenaline had gotten pumped up, practically the same way it did whenever he played basketball against his brothers. He hadn’t even thought about the files he had planned to go over at the office. The only thing he had thought about was whipping Jocelyn’s butt big-time.

And what a butt it was. It didn’t take much to remember her in front of the pinball machine, her stance sexy and stimulating as hell, and her display of excitement each and every time she deployed a ball. Just being able to ogle her undetected had been worth the loss. Once again he couldn’t help but think about the too-serious curves on her body and what they did to a pair of jeans and a top. Each time her butt had moved, he’d found it almost impossible to sit still, stand still or to stop a certain part of him from getting hard.

He had played enough pinball to know it was a mental game and if you weren’t focused there was no chance in hell you could win. Of course he hadn’t been focused. He hadn’t even used a lot of the skilled flipper work he often used when he played against his brothers.

It was difficult to concentrate when you were playing against a woman whose perfume smelled of seduction and whose body made you think of a different kind of scoring. He’d known that whenever her tongue licked her lips she was setting up her shots to score big. And he had wanted to capture that same tongue with his.

“I’m all set.”

He turned at the sound of her voice and crossed the room to relieve her of the load of clothes she carried.

Their hands touched and an electric current quickly flowed through their bodies. Silence hung between them for a long moment until she finally said, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“We’d better go.”

He sighed deeply. “Yes, I think we’d better.”

By the time Jocelyn had locked up and they had walked back out to her truck, Bas wanted to punch something. The desire to kiss her had been so strong he’d felt his self-control slipping, and for the first time in a long time he hadn’t wanted to do anything to regain it.

He didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that if he didn’t pull himself together he was headed for big trouble.

“So, what’re your plans for dinner?”

The truck had come to a stop at a traffic light and Jocelyn glanced over at Bas. “I don’t have any. Why?”

“After playing that game with you, I’ve worked up an appetite and thought we could stop and grab something to eat.”

Jocelyn laughed. “I couldn’t help noticing how much you got into the game. You’re a good player.”

“Yet you won.”

“Yeah, but to give you credit I have to admit you played well. One of the keys to winning pinball is to concentrate on what shots are going to give you the biggest points.”

He decided not to tell her the real reason he’d lost was because he’d been concentrating on her more than the game. “I was serious when I said I wanted a rematch,” he said.

“I’m sure you were, and I don’t mind accommodating you if you can handle another loss.”

He laughed. “Kind of confident, aren’t you?”

She smiled. “When playing pinball one has to be.”

The sun had gone down and dusk was settling in, but even with the dim light in the truck’s cab, Bas could see Jocelyn’s features clearly, and a funny feeling flowed all through him. He turned to look out the window, thinking it was safer to do so. His attraction to her wasn’t good at all. In fact it was bad news.

“So what are your plans?”

Jocelyn’s question intruded into his thoughts and he glanced over at her. “Not sure, but I need something to eat.” And nothing fried, he further thought, remembering Dr. Nelson’s words as well as the promise he’d made to his sister-in-law. He’d gone a week without any fried chicken and it was about to kill him. Each time he passed a KFC he had to keep his control in check and not go in and order the dark-meat special.