His Risk to Take

His discerning gaze swept her. “Hell of a show you put on. How much did you make?”

Ruby sipped her drink, deciding to ignore the edge in his voice. For now. “Enough to buy groceries for the week. Pay my phone bill.”

“What happens when you run into someone who doesn’t appreciate being hustled and no one is there to step in?”

She set her drink down. “I appreciate your concern, but I know how to take care of myself.”

“Yeah? It looked like it,” he said wryly. “Who taught you how to do that?”

She pursed her lips. “You know, this is getting a little deep for a first date.”

“You call this a date?”

Something her father always used to say popped into her head. God hates a coward, Ruby. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and met his stare head-on.

“Since you bought me an alcoholic beverage and I’m planning on kissing you, then yes. I’d say this qualifies as a date.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she couldn’t stop herself from biting her bottom lip. If the music wasn’t so loud, she knew she would have heard him groan. “Sorry. I can’t kiss you.”

Heat suffusing her face, Ruby pushed her chair back and stood. “No kissing, no fun, no gambling. I’m starting to forget why I found you interesting.”

Before she could blink, he moved to stand behind her. On either side of her, he laid his hands on the table, effectively blocking her escape. When he spoke, she felt his every word against her neck. “I just watched you bend over a pool table in those ridiculously tight jeans.

Over. And over. You think I could stop at kissing?”

A shiver moved down her spine at the change in his tone. “What else did you have in mind?”

“Do you really want to know? Think very carefully before you decide.”

She swallowed with difficulty. Interesting didn’t begin to cover this man. “Tell me.”

He moved closer, his chest brushing her back.

Enough to tease her, make her want to arch against him just enough to say, the next move is yours. His mouth hovered an inch away from her ear when he spoke. “After watching that show you just put on, I have a lot of things in mind.” One hand left the bar to brush her hip. Ruby couldn’t stop herself from backing up, bringing her body flush against his. Troy hummed in satisfaction at her boldness. “Next time you bend over a table, I’m going to wrap all that hair around my fist and pull your head back. I want to watch your eyes glaze over when I f**k you into oblivion.”

Heat shot through her entire body and settled between her thighs. She could hear her own quick intakes of breath, her accelerated heartbeat. The air she dragged into her lungs felt thick. This never happened to her. Her carefully constructed aloofness never deserted her, especially around men. But when Troy slid his hand from her hip to her belly, she shuddered under the simple contact.

“I didn’t say you could touch me.” Ruby forced the words out, her breath harsh to her own ears.

“Oh, baby. Yes, you did. Maybe not with words.” A single finger traced the waistband of her jeans. Slowly.

Invitingly. “Come home with me. Let me worship that beautiful body. All goddamn night.”

She regained some of her composure then. What the hell was she doing? She’d stopped into O’Hanlon’s to make a quick buck and bail. Instead, she was letting this near-stranger put his hands on her. Talk to her in a way that should feel wrong, but didn’t. At all. It felt sinfully good. Still, she didn’t make a habit of going home with men she’d just met. Or engaging in casual sex. She needed to put some distance between them so she could think clearly.

Ruby pushed off the table and moved away from him, already regretting the loss of contact. “I’m not going home with you.” She glanced over his shoulder where Troy’s two buddies still sat at the bar, one attempting to flirt with a blond, the other playboy-looking guy leaning back in his stool, the redheaded bartender parked between his outstretched thighs.

“Why don’t you follow their lead? You’d have a better chance of getting laid with someone else.”

He shook his head once. “Not interested in someone else.”

Frowning, she studied his features and found nothing but honesty. Where the hell had this guy come from? How could someone she’d just met make her want to break her own rules? She wanted to go home with him, she realized with a jolt of surprise. To see exactly what worshiping her body entailed. She’d never been so tempted in her life. It scared her a little how much. “That’s too bad. I have a train to catch back to Brooklyn.”

Troy scoffed. “You’re not taking the subway this late. It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning.”

“Excuse me?” She laughed in disbelief. “I’ve been taking the train since I could walk.”

He considered her for a moment, then shrugged.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

She hesitated. “What do you mean ‘let’s’?”

“I’ll ride with you to make sure the enemy you just made doesn’t follow you home to take his money back. Then I’ll walk you to your door and leave.”

No way. Couldn’t let it happen. She didn’t want him to see where she lived. Not that she felt ashamed, exactly, of her microscopic studio apartment located above the Chinese takeout place.

“Your concern is touching, but I don’t need an escort.” He looked nowhere close to budging. “Fine, I’ll just take a cab.”

“You won’t get a cab in this snow storm.”

“You know the city pretty well for being new in town.”

He regarded her curiously. “How did you know I was new in town? I didn’t tell you that.”

“Lucky guess.”

Troy was silent for a moment, contemplating her.

“There’s an easy solution to this. You stay at my place.

I take the couch. I’ll drive you home myself in the morning, when I haven’t been drinking.”

She could probably lose him if she wanted to.

Weave through the crowded bar, duck out the door, and shortcut down a side street before he even got his coat on. It’s what she would do under most circumstances.

Another part of her, however, wanted to appease her curiosity. To see where he lived, to find out what made him tick. She didn’t want to say good night just yet.

And at the end of the day, she’d always loved a good gamble.

“Let me see your wallet.”

His head jerked back. “What?”

“Let me look through your wallet,” she repeated.

“Then I’ll decide if I can trust you enough to stay with you tonight.”

Troy barked a laugh. “I just watched you fleece a guy for a chunk of cash and you want me to voluntarily hand you my wallet?”

“How can I trust you if you can’t trust me?” They were both still a moment, eyeballing each other in the middle of the rowdy bar. Finally, with an expression that said he couldn’t believe his own decision, he reached into his back pocket and tossed his wallet onto the table. She stared down in shock at the black leather wallet clipped to a shiny NYPD badge. “You’re a cop?”

“Detective, yes.”