Tempted

Maybe Dale hadn’t been as rotten as Vanessa liked to say.

Sometimes being angry was easier than accepting the pain of true grief.

So far this meet and greet was not going well.

Maybe he could find another woman and send her off in tears.

He motioned for the bartender. “Keep ’em coming.”

* * *

HARPER KNEW THE minute Teagan entered the room. It was as if her eyes were set to track and her aim was unerring.

He looked good.

Damn good.

That self-assured swagger as he surveyed the room, the way a smile flirted with his mouth...he was a bad distraction.

She knew she ought to flirt with the cluster of men corralling her, but seeing as Stuart was a no-show, the idea of wasting time with those pitiful fools was more than she could stomach.

The smart thing would be to return to her room, rest up for tomorrow.

But she wasn’t tired.

In fact, she was practically brimming with restless energy and if she went to her room right now, she’d end up pacing a hole in her tiny stateroom.

A drink would take the edge off.

Don’t do it. Don’t you dare walk over to him.

Ignoring the voice of reason, she politely extricated herself from the cluster and made her way toward Teagan.

She slid into the chair that’d been occupied by the older woman and smiled at the bartender. “Gin and tonic,” she murmured, then turned to Teagan who looked pretty relaxed.

“What happened to your lady friend?” she asked with mild interest. “She seemed into you until she hurried off. Seems your game is a little off. Would you like some pointers?”

He chuckled—the sound tickling her vertebrae like fingers dancing down her spine—and said, “Pointers from you? Hmm...not sure.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m not really a catch-and-release kind of guy.”

Heat crawled into Harper’s cheeks, caught off guard by how easily Teagan seemed to laser in on her strategy, but she knew it was impossible for him to know. Whatever she was keying in on was her own paranoia. Harper graced Teagan with a small smile. “Why hold on to one, when there are so many to choose from?”

Teagan nodded as if ceding her point until he countered, saying, “Why continue to draw in fish you have no intention of keeping?”

“The thrill of the chase?” she suggested coyly as the bartended pushed her drink toward her. She rewarded him with a blinding smile and a modest tip.

“I don’t see you chasing anyone,” he pointed out, watching as she lifted the glass to her lips. “I see it the other way around. But something tells me, that’s your game.”

It was true. Harper rarely chased—she snared.

“Okay, Mr. Observant...what else do you see?”

The minute she threw the question out there, she knew it was a mistake. Teagan was sharp. There was something about him that cut through the haze and pushed away her carefully constructed web. He wasn’t in a rush to fall all over her and that wasn’t something she was accustomed to, either.

Teagan grinned, amused at her rash response. “You sure you want me to answer that?”

Actually, go ahead and forget I said it.

She graced him with a patronizing smile. “Darling, I can’t wait to hear what you think you see after knowing me for a total of fifteen minutes.”

Teagan swiveled on his chair to face her directly. She sucked in a tight breath as her heart rate quickened, but she held her smile. To her surprise, he reached for her hand and turned it over to observe her palm.

Was he psychic or something? Her smile turned wary. “What are you doing?”

“Shh...”

He lightly traced the faint lines in her palm, sending shivers rioting up her forearm.

“Am I going to be famous?” she teased, if only to quell the racing of her pulse at his touch. “Is this your schtick? Hey, baby, let me tell you your future?”

He graced her with a charming smile and released her hand.

“Well?”

Good God, she could still feel the heat of his fingertips sliding across her skin. Harper absently rubbed at her palm to stop the sensation.

“You, Harper Riley, are a man-eater.”

“And what makes you say that?” she asked, trying to play off his observation as if humoring him.

“Because your hands are soft as a baby’s behind, which means you rarely lift a finger to do much work. Your manicure is perfect, not a single hangnail in sight. Your hair is gorgeous, which means you take the time to have it styled regularly, and your body... Well, you and I both know your body is toned, taut and flawless, which tells me you take care of yourself religiously. Why else would a woman put so much effort into being perfect? Unless she was on the hunt. We men may be stupid but some clichés are true.”

Harper scoffed at his assessment. “Or it could mean I have good genes and I like to work out because it feels good. Besides, who said I was perfect?”

“I’m not finished,” he said, gesturing to her heels. “Expensive designer shoes, a dress that fits like it was made for you, diamond earrings and a Louis Vuitton bag that probably cost more than a small car. Now tell me you’re not on the prowl.”

He was not only right, he was shockingly eagle-eyed for a man.

Was he gay? “How do you know anything about women’s clothing?” she asked. “Do you have a thing for expensive bags and shoes?”

He leaned in, his voice tickling her ear. “I’ve had a few girlfriends with expensive tastes...and I pay attention.”

Danger, Harper, a voice whispered.

The last thing she needed was a man who knew how to pick up on subtle cues. What if he caught on to her plan with Stuart?