His Risk to Take

“Actually, the peppers are for me.” He gestured with the spatula. “My mother is a chef back in Chicago.

It’s just something she always kept in the fridge, and I guess I got used to it.”

“Huh.” She sat back down and watched him cook the omelet. Once he’d finished, he slid it onto a plate and set it in front of her, then pulled out his own chair and sat.

“Who taught you how to play pool like that?”

The fork paused halfway to her mouth. “I see.

You cooked for me, so now I’m obligated to answer your questions.” When Troy simply waited, she sighed, muttering something about cops under her breath.

“My father.”

“And he approves of you going to these places on your own? Using the skill he taught you to take people’s money?”

“Approve?” She quickly swallowed her bite. “He encourages it.”

Troy’s hand flexed on the table as that infuriating piece of information sunk in. “That’s great. He

knowingly sends you into dangerous situations. Sounds like he really cares about you.”

Ruby flinched a little at his sharply delivered words, and Troy desperately wished he could take them back. Her hand came to rest limply beside her plate, like he’d made her lose her appetite. When she spoke, her voice sounded different. Less confident.

And it sliced through him. “Maybe you’re right. But I don’t think he sees it like that.” She set her fork down, crossed her arms over her middle. “You’ve heard that proverb, teach a man to fish and you’ll feed him his entire life? Teaching me how to play pool was his way of feeding me for life. He didn’t, doesn’t, know any other way.”

Troy leaned forward. “Listen, I didn’t mean to say your father doesn’t care about you. I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded. I just don’t think hustling pool is the safest way to make money.”

Her chin came up, filling him with relief that he hadn’t completely shaken her self-assurance. “I didn’t come here for a lecture. We just met. You have no say in what I choose to do.”

“What did you come here for? You thought about taking off back at the bar. Searching for the quickest exit route. Why didn’t you blow me off?”

She smiled a little. “You’re one of the smart ones, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I am.” Troy took her plate and rinsed it in the sink, then turned toward the bedroom. “I’ll go grab you something to sleep in and get myself set up on the couch.”

He could feel the weight of her suspicious gaze on his back as he walked down the hallway.

Chapter Four

What in the hell am I doing here?

Ruby slipped Troy’s navy blue police department shirt over her head and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. No one could accuse her of being a scrupulous virgin, but she didn’t go home with strange men she’d known less than an hour. Ever. Especially a cop, for Christ’s sake. What would her father, who’d taught her how to identify, avoid, and evade the police, think about her standing in a cop’s bathroom, wearing department-issued paraphernalia? He’d probably never recover from his fit of laughter. As a lifelong gambler who’d introduced his only child to the lifestyle, Jim Elliott had never spoken about members of the police force with anything but disdain. She’d grown up believing they were the ones trying to keep money out of their hands and thus, food off their table.

So why was she standing there, hoping the bathroom door would open? Hoping Troy would stride inside and kiss the breath out of her. See right through her protests and take her to bed like she wanted. She didn’t understand it. The relentless tug in her belly.

The urge to fit her ass against his lap, wiggle her hips a little. Entice him into touching her. She’d been assailed by images of them together since they’d left the bar.

He’d put the first one in her head. Bent over the pool table with her hair wrapped around his fist. From there they’d spread like wildfire.

How come the hesitation to indulge herself, then?

She knew why. Troy didn’t strike her as one-nightstand material. Unlike her, he came from a good family. A prechopped pepper kind of family. His eyes held a trace of sadness, she suspected over the death of his partner. Even when he laughed, it still lurked there, a reminder of his pain. She shouldn’t care so much. Or be so curious to learn more about him. She should have already scratched the itch and slipped out the door as soon as he fell asleep. Only the thought of doing so left her cold. And dammit, if she left without looking back, she wasn’t so sure it would be easy to forget the drink-denying, omelet-cooking, blue-eyed detective.

She pushed the troubling thoughts aside and focused on the now. Since when did she do anything besides live in the moment? Later. She would worry about the stupid feelings knocking around inside her chest later. Hell, they’d probably cease to exist as soon as she managed to work Troy out of her system.

God hates a coward, Ruby.

With a steadying breath, she reached for the hem of the borrowed shirt and drew it up over her head, tossing it on top of a nearby clothes hamper. She took a final look at herself in the mirror, naked except for her silky blue underwear, and opened the bathroom door.

Troy stood in the kitchen with his back to her, cleaning the pan he’d used to make her omelet. For a moment, she simply watched him perform the domestic chore, enjoying the sight of his forearm muscles flexing as he dried a plate. Marveling over how masculine he made it look.

Troy’s shoulders bunched, as if he’d sensed her standing there. As if he knew exactly what he would find once he turned around. She shivered in apprehension, resisting the urge to run back into the bathroom and lock the door. Troy tossed the pan onto the counter with a clatter and turned. When his hot gaze landed on her mostly naked body, he sucked in a breath. She forced herself to stand still, keep her hands from covering her br**sts like they were tempted to do. Let him look his fill. Finally, when she thought she might catch fire under his heated gaze, he stalked toward her.

Troy kept coming until he’d forced her back up against the hallway wall. His arms shot out to rest on either side of her head, his gaze burning a path from her br**sts down to her bare legs and back up again.

Her skin felt bathed in fire everywhere he looked.

Her ni**les puckered for his attention. Goose bumps broke out along her arms. She couldn’t take it a second longer.

“Are you going to spend all night looking? Or are you actually going to do something about it?”

He took another step closer, bringing their bodies flush, growling deep in his throat at the contact. She watched as a transformation took place in him. Gone was the man concerned for her safety who’d cooked her an omelet. He’d been replaced by someone raw and assertive. The change should have intimidated her, but she couldn’t deny feeling a rush of excitement.

Anticipation. “You might get away with running that smart mouth to other people. But you won’t get away with it here. If you continue to challenge me with every word out of your mouth, I will f**k you repeatedly until you learn to play nice.”

Part of her screamed in offense, the other half wanted to beg him to do it. In this moment, with a thousand sensations pouring through her, the latter half won hands down. “You’d better get started, then.”