When nothing fell for Madeline, Kirk put his arm around her and, kissing her temple, joked none too quietly that she'd better come up big next time or he was going to dump her.
Clay chuckled as he chalked his cue. "Watch it," he said. "That's my sister you're talking to."
Secretly admiring his fluid movements, Allie watched Madeline's stepbrother circle the table. When he paused at the end, as though he'd found an angle he liked, he looked up at her.
"Do you really want to take the toughest shot available?" she asked in amazement.
"Yes, he does," Kirk said, laughing. "This game's no fun for him unless he tries fancy shit like that. That's how I knew we were going to win."
Allie arched an eyebrow at Clay. "You try that, and you're the one who'll have to pony up the cash when we lose."
Clay's teeth flashed as he grinned at her, and she knew she'd said just the thing to make him relish the challenge. Bending over the cue ball, he tried to bank the three twice before sending it into the side pocket.
The move didn't work.
"Nice," she said sarcastically.
He came around the table and clicked his beer bottle against hers. "I'm depending on you to pull us out."
Allie wished she didn't like the smell of his cologne, or the way his jeans fit his body. But she did. For the duration of the game, she almost forgot she'd come to the pool hall with a goal in mind. Especially when they lost. Because Clay had actually sunk as many balls as she had, he made her split their losses with him.
"At least I took reasonable shots," she complained. "The shots you attempted were crazy."
"I made a few," he said.
And he had. Which was pretty impressive. He was obviously a much better player than the rest of them, but he hadn't exploited his advantage.
"Let's get another drink," Madeline said. "Then we'll play again."
"Okay, but I'm not betting any more money," Allie said, sulking. "Cops don't make enough to get taken at pool, especially by their own partners."
In the crush near the bar, she and Clay got separated from Kirk and Madeline. Allie almost lost Clay, too--but then his fingers curled around her hand and he guided her through the people between them. "So why'd you become a cop?" he asked as the press of bodies jostled them closer.
"I guess I like the chase," she said.
She hadn't realized how flirtatious that would sound until the words were out of her mouth.
Clay pivoted to face her, his expression conveying surprise and predatory interest. She'd definitely caught his attention. Deep down, she knew she was too fresh from her divorce, that she was letting the excitement of this night go to her head. But she felt young and free, as if she'd managed to turn back the clock ten years, and it was an exhilarating experience. Especially after she'd put in so much work and time and effort to get through college, get a job, improve her marriage, survive her divorce, raise her daughter....
"The chase, huh?" he murmured, his gaze riveted on her lips. "What's it like when you get your man?"
Her heart began to pound. She'd started this, so she wasn't about to reveal that she was already in over her head. "Last time I'm afraid the chase was the best part," she admitted. "But I'm not sure that was entirely my fault."
"Last time? "
"I've only been with my ex."
"Sounds as if it was disappointing."
"Very."
"It's not always like that."
She gave him a weak grin. "I'll take your word for it."
"Not interested in a walk on the wild side, eh?"
"I'm the daughter of a cop, remember?"
"And a cop yourself. How could I forget?" He averted his eyes, but she could feel his hand at her back, steering her through the crowd. The warmth of his touch seemed to burn right through her shirt, but she was glad he was there when someone in front of her threw a playful punch and the person who dodged to get out of the way stumbled and nearly fell into her.
Clay pulled her out of danger, against his chest. "Did he step on your toes?" he murmured in her ear.
His breath tickled. Suppressing a shiver, she said, "No. Thanks to you," and purposely avoided his touch as they continued to the bar.
They each got another beer, then went to play a second game of pool. This time she and Clay won back their money. But the No-Doz she'd taken before she'd come wasn't mixing well with the alcohol. She was beginning to feel as if she were floating above everyone else.
She needed to find a ride home, she decided. She'd lost all focus on the reason she'd come; she'd have to talk to Clay later, when her mind was clear.
But Madeline wouldn't hear of letting her leave so early. Clay's sister announced that they should all dance and, a few seconds later, Allie found herself in Clay's arms, swaying to Rascal Flats singing "Bless the Broken Road."
"Are your parents amenable to watching your daughter when you go out?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble.
"It hasn't been an issue so far," she said. "This is the first time I've gone out at night, other than to work."
"In six weeks? " he said.
"Is that how long I've been back?" She couldn't remember clearly. In any case, she didn't really want to talk. She wanted to listen to the music and press closer to the hard body that was moving against hers, making her br**sts tingle. It felt like forever since she'd been with a man, especially a man who smelled as good as Clay--
Suddenly, he shifted to hold her away from him.
She looked up and would have released him, except that he kept his hands on her waist.
Was she the one who'd snuggled so close? She must've been. Otherwise, he wouldn't have reacted like that. "I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed. "I'm not thinking straight."
"I know."
"I've gotta go."
He didn't answer immediately, but when he did, he said, "That's probably a good idea. I'll take you home."
"No, you've got your stepsister and Kirk here. I'll call my father."
"There's no need. I'm leaving anyway. Meet me outside in five minutes," he said as if it had all been decided.
" Meet you?" she repeated. "Are you going somewhere else before we leave?"
He subtly indicated one side of the room. When she glanced over, she saw that Joe was watching them again.
"You don't want to start any rumors, do you?" he said, putting his back to Barker's nephew and effectively shielding her from his view.
Her thoughts were a little fuzzy, but she was fairly sure any rumors that might get started wouldn't bother Clay in the least. Folks had whispered about him for most of his life. And having people believe he'd bagged the cop who was supposed to convict him of Barker's murder would be a feather in his cap. Wouldn't it?