blood go cold. He was ruthless when it came to protecting his team. Nothing was off-limits. Nothing.
God himself could not protect that woman if she was doing what he suspected. For the first time in his life, he sincerely hoped his sixth sense was wrong. She seemed so small and defenseless, balancing a tray as she made her way into the pool hall, pigtails bouncing. So innocent.
He hoped he was wrong about her. But he knew he wasn’t.
Steeling himself for a task he knew would be very unpleasant, he nodded in wordless acceptance of the mission and pushed away from the table. Carrying his beer, he sauntered over to the bar, where the opportunity for a “casual” meeting was most likely. He leaned on the counter and worked his beer, pretending to watch the game on TV. His attention was really on the mirror over the bar, where he could track her movements.
The sizzle of eagerness as she approached annoyed him.
Damn, she was alluring. Her blonde hair was pulled back in pigtails, revealing the delicate cut of her cheek. A fringe of bangs were swiped carelessly to the side. Her features were exquisite, with a slender nose turned up a bit at the end, and a little dent in her chin. Her eyes were enormous and gray, and they almost made her look vulnerable.
Almost.
There was something about her stride, the tight way she controlled her movements, the way her gaze was constantly assessing the environment around her, that belied any weakness. He had no doubt this woman was perfectly able to protect herself and would do so with ruthless ferocity.
But if babe in the woods was the way she wanted to play it, he was game.
She sidled up to the bar and waited to give Daryl an order. Sterling let his gaze slide over her in a lazy perusal. Though it was hardly necessary. He knew each and every curve by heart. When their gazes met, clashed, it sent an electric charge down to his bowels. He imagined, from her startled expression, she felt the same, but he ignored the thought. If she was a ruthless reporter, he doubted his presence would faze her in the slightest.
He tweaked up his lips and lifted his beer in a silent salute.
She eyed him with an appreciative look. He was sure it was about as authentic as a plug nickel. Her attention stalled on the patch on the shoulder of his jacket. “You ride?”
A little worm crawled through his gut. Shit. She didn’t waste any time. “Yup.”
“What kind of bike do you have?”
“Night Rod.”
Her pink tongue dabbed out to wet her lips. His knees went weak. “Harleys are so hot. I love…the vibrations.”
Fuck.
She tipped her head to read the patch, though he suspected she knew damn well what it said. “EM Motorcycle Club?” She tried to make her tone casual, but he caught the ribbon of intent behind it.
“Yup.” Just a regular, everyday MC. Nothing to see here. Look away.
She slid closer. Too close. Her scent teased his nostrils and made him salivate. It took some effort to remind himself what he was doing here. And it wasn’t hitting on a waitress. “I think bikers are sexy,” she purred.
Or maybe it was.
Maybe that was the best way to get the confirmation he needed.
It was hardly an onerous mission.
He could fuck her six ways to Sunday. Reporter or not. The only hard part would be walking away.
He gave her the once-over, pretending surprise. “Really? You don’t look the type.”
“Haven’t you learned not to judge a waitress by her cover?”
Interesting choice of words, but Sterling didn’t comment on it. At this point, his best tactic was to play dumb. If she was what he suspected, and she thought he was one of the men she was hunting, she might try to draw him in.
And he would let her.
He flashed his trademark grin. One that had women falling into bed. “So are you a bad girl? Underneath those pigtails?”
Her expression hardened, but she covered it with a flutter of her lashes. “Maybe.”
“I’d love to find out…how naughty you are.”
“I’ll bet you would,” she murmured.
“What time do you get off?”
The smile she sent him was wicked indeed. “I dunno. That would be up to you, I guess.”
Her meaning was undeniable. His cock understood it immediately; it perked up like a meerkat on the Serengeti. And damn, he wished this weren’t what it was. He wished, for just one night, he could be Steve and she could be