you as you walk away. Make sure no one else touches it.”
“Very thoughtful of you.” Sophie’s lips quivered with a repressed smile. Outrageous. But then, that was part of his appeal—a total disregard for the laws and social conventions that governed her life.
Ace pulled a wooden chair away from the dining table and straddled it backward, his thick arms resting on the back, muscles rippling beneath two full sleeves of tattoos. He caught her looking and winked. Damn. He was clearly enjoying her discomfort. Well, she did owe him. Jason’s ass-squeezing octopus friend was likely still suffering outside at the hands of two men clearly well practiced in the art of violence. A beer was a small price to pay for saving her ass.
“Fine. I’ll get your drink.” It was that or melt in a puddle every time he opened his mouth and spoke in that sinfully sensual voice.
Now overly conscious of his eyes on her body, Sophie walked over to the bar. Did she have a nice ass? It had been so long since she’d checked herself out in the mirror, she didn’t know. It was larger than most, but she supposed it couldn’t be too bad. Especially since she’d managed to squeeze it into these jeans. Plus, working out every morning and being on her feet all day, she hadn’t suffered the late-twenties spread some of her friends back in Toronto had complained about.
“Back again,” Andre said. “Your Patron is waiting for you.”
And a crassly arrogant, misogynistic biker with a body made for sin was waiting for her. The music played louder than before, but it couldn’t drown out the thud of her heart. Despite his antiquated views, she wanted Ace. More than any man she’d ever wanted before. More than she’d wanted Ryan when he first approached her at a colleague’s wedding.
But she couldn’t have him. Cops and criminals didn’t mix. Still, she was up for a little bit of fun, and Ace needed to learn a lesson. “Your most disgusting beer, please.”
Andre widened his eyes. “Someone get on your bad side?”
“Something like that.”
He fished around in a cooler and pulled out a can with a red and yellow label and the word Chelada scripted across the front. “I was saving this for someone special, but I have a feeling you’ll put it to better use.” He pulled the top and poured the red-orange liquid slowly into the glass, leaving it with a perfect pink head. “Absolutely horrible. They’ve mixed beer and Clamato juice together. Have a sniff.”
Sophie leaned forward and her nose wrinkled. “It smells like a sewer with a little tomato and pepper seasoning. I can’t imagine many people ask for it.”
He grabbed a cut lemon from a bowl and squeezed it into the froth. “I work at a speciality beer store under the Granville Street Bridge when I’m not playing bodyguard. I always bring a few of the more unique brews along. Never know who might ask.”
Bodyguard? He didn’t strike her as muscle. Usually bodyguards were big and burly, more about intimidation than actual protection.
Andre gave the beer a quick stir and handed it to her, a smile spreading across his face. “Way to make new friends.”
Sophie spun around and looked for her target. Ace’s gaze was glued to where her ass used to be. Her smile faded as she walked toward him. Why did the best-looking guys always turn out to have a fundamental flaw?
“Here you go.”
If he noticed the unusual color of the beer, he gave no sign. Instead, he took the glass, his fingers brushing over her skin. Sizzling warmth spread along her arm and shot straight to her core.
“Thanks, babe.” Eyes locked on hers, he put the glass to his lips and drank until half the beer was gone.
Sophie watched with morbid fascination. How would he react? Would he shudder? Gag? Splutter? Would he be angry? Maybe she should have considered that possibility before she acted so rashly. He was, by far, the biggest, scariest man in the room.
Ace placed the glass on the table. “We’re square.”
Seriously? He’d downed the beer without blinking an eye, and yet the bartender had squeezed an entire lemon into the nauseating concoction. How had he so easily snatched victory from the glass of defeat?
“You standing there ’cause you want to get me another beer?” His lips quirked at the corners, and he gave her the kind of smile that would have charmed the pants off any other woman: slow and easy, filled with sensual