“Off the clock.”
“But not off
duty?”
“What cop is ever
off duty?”
She supposed he
had a valid point, but she was getting too many mixed signals from him to know
what to trust.
“So what brings
you and your badge to Love’s tonight?”
“Good food, fine
brew, and great friends,” he said, quoting the motto printed on the front
window.
“So you’re not
looking for anyone?”
“Like?”
“I don’t know.
Outlaws.”
“And if I am?” he
asked.
She shrugged,
glancing at the nearly deserted bar. “Good luck with that?”
A taut pause
followed while he snared her gaze and held it prisoner.
“You seem a bit
skittish, Roxanne.”
She felt a bit
skittish. Excited. Like she’d just raced down a long staircase and found that
the last step dropped into nowhere.
She balanced on
the edge, hyperaware of him. His size. His intensity. His presence. She didn’t
know if she wanted to bolt or move closer. He caught his bottom lip with his
teeth and worried it for a moment, while his gaze delivered a message so male
that she felt an instinctive, uncontrollable response.
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