Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

“Some would say I’m no lady.”

Good. He liked sarcastic Betty a hell of a lot better than the one he remembered from that night. Or the one he glimpsed the evening before. When had he ever met a more complicated, mysterious and fucked up woman?

“They’re probably right.”

“Yeah,” she answered, gazing just over his shoulder. “Look,” her eyes returned to his, the blue depths direct. “I need to ask you a favor.”

“A favor?” He took a step closer, and then another, as she continued to watch him warily. “And here I thought you wanted me away from those women so you could have me for yourself.”

“I’d rather suck face with that asshole in the bar,” she retorted.

“Darlin’, he wanted to shove a lot more than his tongue into you.”

“Don’t they all.”

Beau regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. Damn, but this woman pushed all of the wrong buttons. Something in her tone told him he’d crossed the line. And it was that something that made him step back.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate—“

“Yeah,” she said softly. “You did.”

She was right. And he felt like an ass.

“Can we just start over?” he asked carefully. “What’s the favor?” He was blowing it. This was his chance to nail Betty down for his project and he was blowing it. What the hell was it about this woman that drove all sane thought from his head?

Betty’s chin was up and she glanced away from him. Her jaw was set tight, her foot tapping the pavement impatiently.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Her eyes were now on the ground and he could tell that she was nervous.

“You asking me out, Barker?”

“What?” Her head shot up. “No.” She heaved a sigh and her breasts strained against the revealing halter. He couldn’t help it. His eyes strayed until she crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat. “You done looking?”

“I guess,” he said slowly, liking the way her cheeks flushed.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one was that?”

Her eyes flashed and she all but spit at him. “Are you doing anything next weekend?” She spoke slowly, as if she was talking to a dimwit. He grinned. The return of sarcastic Betty was good. He didn’t like her vulnerable. On camera yes—it’s what he was aiming for.

But not in real life.

He also didn’t like playing games, which made this entire conversation insane. Beau decided enough was enough.

“I’ve got no plans.” Bullshit. He was supposed to hook up with Lane Summers. He’d been seeing her for a few months now and the socialite would be pissed if he missed their rendezvous. But if he could work this favor into an advantage for himself, he was willing to face Lane’s wrath.

Besides, makeup sex was hot.

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

“Duke wanted me to ask if you’d be, um,” her foot tapped louder and sweat beaded along the top of her lip. “He wanted to know if you would be interested in taking part in a celebrity mixed ball tournament next weekend.”

Okay. That’s not what he’d been expecting to hear.

“Baseball?” he asked.