Relentless Seduction

Rafe faced the front door, but so far no one fitting Shadow’s description had come in. He’d looked in the back room around the pool tables already with no sign of the guy there, either. Shadow could’ve been in earlier, or he could not show up for days. This was a waste of time.

Having the police question him might’ve been slightly irritating, but Rafe could’ve handled it. The truth was he was here because she challenged him. Dr. Claire Brooks.

A PhD? She looked like the mad scientist kind. But her dumpy clothes and thick glasses hid an intelligent and fierce personality. He had to admire her loyalty to a friend. And the guts it took to brave a strange city and strange people. And to blackmail him.

He smiled to himself.

Rafe scanned the room again, thinking that, if not for sheer luck, he could’ve turned out like any of the scum in this joint. He stopped scanning and his gaze returned to a black-haired woman sitting at a table with two guys.

Her tight black dress plunged so low in front her large breasts spilled out to overflowing. Creamy, soft, plump breasts. His body tensed.

Damn.

He shifted in the cracked Naugahyde seat to get comfortable in his jeans. What the hell? He hadn’t reacted this strongly to a set since he’d seen his first centerfold in a torn up Playboy he found in his pappy’s closet.

And her legs. The dress barely covered her. Even wearing dark black hose and black biker boots her legs looked as if they went on for miles. Making her the perfect height to take her from behind. How easily he could picture holding her hips while he pumped into her.

Rafael Moreau, you dog. You ‘re here to look for Shadow, not pick up a woman for the night.

One would think at thirty-four years of age he’d be past seeing women only as someone to get into his bed. But, he was what he was. At least he wasn’t draping himself all over her and pawing at her like the two jerks sitting on either side of her.

She was obviously trying to keep their wandering hands at bay. But what did she expect in a place like this dressed like that?

Her raven hair was teased and spiked to stand up every which way. She wore heavy makeup, thick black liner and eye shadow, black lipstick. Her wide eyes were a soft doe-brown…

She glanced in his direction and quickly looked away.

Dammit.

He shot to his feet and stalked over to her table, gripped Claire’s arm and hauled her to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, man.”

“Leave her alone, dude.” The two men stood, taking up menacing stances. They stepped closer and Rafe could see their dilated, bloodshot eyes.

So he had called it right the first night he saw her. She was trouble. Well, he damn sure wasn’t backing down from a couple of punks. He smiled at goon number one. “I’ll give you one chance to leave peaceably.”

Goon number one snickered. “What you gonna do, old man?” He raised his fist, but before he could make contact Rafe punched him in the throat. The goon grabbed his neck and doubled over, choking.

“Rafe!” Claire tried to pull her arm free from his grasp, but he held on while he faced goon number two.

The second goon held up his hands palms out and backed away. “I’m good.” He grabbed his still-choking pal and they scurried out the front door like the rats they were.

Rafe turned his scowl on Claire.

A split second of chagrin crossed her features before she raised her chin in that way that signaled she was bolstering her courage.

“I warned you if you came here the deal was off.”

He stalked back to the booth, grabbed his jacket and shoved his arms in the sleeves.

“Rafe.” She stood in front him, blocking his exit. “I apologize, but I—”

“But, nothing.” He sidestepped toward the door.

“I’d hoped that if I wore a disguise so I fit in, then I could also look for Shadow.”

“Fit in? In that?”

She flinched.

He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. He never raised his voice. But she’d been better off when she’d hid that body beneath the nerdy clothes. He cursed under his breath, turned and gulped down the rest of his bourbon, getting himself under control.

Those big brown eyes, just seconds ago full of defiance, were squinting. And she was biting her thumbnail.

Aw, hell. “Sit down.” He resumed his seat.

She sat opposite him, her breasts jiggling as she scooted in.

He gritted his teeth and willed his gaze away from all that flesh. “Where are your glasses?”

“In my purse.” She gestured to a small black bag slung from one shoulder across the other side of her body.

“Put them on.”

She dug in her purse and slipped on the rectangular tortoise-shell frames.

He studied her, trying to find the frumpy woman from earlier today in the dark seductress sitting across from him. The thick lenses made her eyes look smaller. But they were the same soft brown. And the same directness stared back at him.

“No contacts?”

She shook her head. “Allergies.” She sniffed as if just saying the word made her congested. He steeled himself against finding that cute.

“Those jerks could’ve had weapons.”

“I know.”

“I could’ve been killed.”

She bristled. “I was doing fine until you came over and grabbed me.”

“The hell you were!”

Her shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Damn. She took the wind right out of his righteous sails.

“I don’t blame you if you want to leave.”