Two Week Seduction by Kathy Lyons Read Free Book Online

customer. Then she scribbled something on her tray when she straightened up. A second later, her name and phone number dropped in front of him, written in dark ink on a napkin.
    He grinned at her, but his attention centered on Alea watching from the pool table. She hadn’t moved. He’d kept her in his peripheral vision even while he’d been pressed close to TD. She was furious. Flat-out seething angry with narrowed eyes, clenched fists, and flared nostrils. If she’d been wearing pearls and a sweater, he might have called the expression cute. But given that she was dressed to kill, that rage looked dangerous.
    Let her have a taste of all the torment he’d suffered with her close but so out of reach. Yeah, maybe he’d stayed away because his best friend ordered him, but she’d known it and still hadn’t left him alone. He was being a prick, but her reaction made him grin.
    He watched her get ahold of herself. Her mouth flattened into a line and suddenly she threw her shoulders back. He thought she was going to stalk over to his table, but she didn’t. The pool table had opened up and it was her turn.
    She set down her case, popped it open, then assembled her cue stick. A different waitress brought her a drink—scotch neat from the looks of it. Alea slammed it back and he felt his hands clench as the entire bar ogled her chest with the motion. She might not be up to Triple D’s, but what she had was round and pert, and would fit perfectly in his palms.
    Then she set the drink down, leaned against the table, and spoke to the crowd. Her voice was raw from the scotch, but her words carried.
    “Well, boys, I’m in a mood tonight. So here’s the deal. First guy who beats me gets to bed me. Hundred bucks to try your luck.”
    And then she leaned back against the table and watched the line form.
    …
    Alea slammed back her second drink and nearly choked. Holy shit, it was real scotch. She had a running arrangement with the bartender to give her ginger ale that looked like scotch. And her first one had been ginger ale. But apparently her wild challenge to the bar had everyone conspiring to get her good and drunk. They wanted to see her get laid tonight. Or at a minimum, they wanted to see her lose.
    She shot the bartender a glare. He responded with a thumbs-up. Jerk. She studiously avoided looking at John. If he wanted to fondle Tricia in full view of everyone, then she could take the step up to real alcohol. And given that she’d just challenged every Tom, Dick, and Harry who wanted to get into her pants, she ought to pay attention to the game.
    Her first opponent was easy pickings. He was new to this particular bar and either hadn’t heard the stories about her skill or didn’t believe them. She finished him off, pocketed the $100, then like usual, downed another drink…which hadn’t been ginger ale either.
    The fire burned down her throat and gave her an extra measure of sass. This was where she felt wholly free. And the more attitude she put into her swagger, the more the crowd loved it.
    Victim Number Two stepped up and set his hundred down. Well, he set down two twenties, a ten, a layer of fives, and a huge stack of crumpled ones.
    “College student?” she asked, her voice excruciatingly dry.
    “Senior in business,” he returned, acting as if that meant shit. Given that her mother constantly tried to set her up with Ivy League graduates, she should have been unimpressed. She was unimpressed, but more by his beer-stained Greek tee, flip-flops, and the baseball cap flipped the wrong way on his head.
    “Be still my heart,” she drawled. Then she gestured. He got the break…and did really well with it. Damn. He sank ball after ball while she sat back and pretended she hadn’t a care in the world.
    “Walk away now.” The low voice in her ear sent a thrill all the way down her spine. It was John, his voice dark with menace. He’d voiced the very thing she was thinking, but that only stiffened her resolve to