and the inside points of her arched brows slammed together. Her big brown eyes went from soft to stone. "Why is everyone saying that?" she hissed.
Tanner glanced at Troy for help. "Uh..."
The strange woman scooped up the girly drink and jerked straight in his lap.
Tanner bit back a yelp as her offended tailbone connected with the bone on his body that had reacted like a pointer's tail on the opening day of duck hunting season the instant the American rose had landed against him. And okay, so the dog meta phor fit, because yes, he was already hard. Horny.
Sue him. He'd been celibate for eleven months and counting. It was supposed to make him a better person, maybe not a bona fide white hat like the other men in his famous family, but at least someone who could be known for something other than screwing up.
The girl tossed back the booze, slammed the glass to the table again, and glared at him. Then she grabbed the sides of his hair and yanked his face close.
Kissed him.
Desiree had done that once too.
Except American Rose didn't taste like Desiree. Well, he couldn't remember what damn Desiree had tasted like. But certainly not tangy-sweet like this, with a little bite of mint. Mojito, he thought. Mojito and her own unique flavor.
He liked it. He liked it a hell of a lot.
Now she really went after the kiss, mashing her lips against his, more function than form, and he drew back, not just because he could sense her desperation, but because it was surging weirdly through him too.
"Whoa," he said, fighting her pull on the ends of his hair and trying to sound amused and casual and not hornier than ever. "Whoa whoa whoa. Where's the fire, sweetheart?"
Troy snickered and walked off, while American Rose froze. Then her hands dropped, her shoulders slumped, and a long sigh fluttered the ends of his hair. He thought she might cry.
"God," she moaned instead. "I read this all wrong too, didn't I? You don't want me either, do you?"
Maybe they were both a little tipsy, because she continued to sit on his thighs, though wilted now. "I haven't looked at a man in four years," she continued. "And then I have to be attracted to one who doesn't find me - "
She broke off, brightened a little. "Are you by any chance gay?"
Definitely both tipsy, he decided, not just because she'd asked such a question, but because he felt so instantly compelled to answer it.
With his mouth against hers.
Bending to her again, he licked his tongue across her pillowy bottom lip. Once. Twice. Felt her startled sip of air and the way her belly tensed against his inner forearm.
"Sweetheart, does that seem like gay to you?" he whispered, letting the words play across her wet mouth.
She made a muffled sound, then gave a tiny shake of her head, causing little blurry kisses between them.
Now it was his belly that tightened, going almost as hard as the poor part of him trapped inside his jeans. He cleared his throat, his lips still whisper-close to hers. "What's your name?"
She stilled for a moment. "Deborah," she said, then stiffened, as if surprised at what she'd chosen to dub herself. "Yours?"
"Deborah" was such an obvious nom de party that he smiled and let the anonymity go both ways. If she didn't recognize him from all the media play of the last year, who was he to complain?
"I'm Finn," he replied, not feeling the least remorse for using his best friend's first name. Hey, the guy had found his happiness just days ago with his former flame, Bailey Sullivan, and so wasn't around much to complain. "You can call me Finn."
"Finn..." She tried it out, her long black lashes sweeping the apple curves of her pretty cheeks.
He took the opportunity to look lower. Between the gap in her cotton shirt he could see seductive black lace, and in the gap of that, creamy cleavage. Enticing creamy cleavage.
Despite the sight, he really should get rid of her, his good sense warned him. Even with the Finn mask in place, there were reasons -
Tanner jolted against the straight back of his chair to stare down at her. "Did you say something about four years?"
"Deborah" half turned to wind one arm around his neck, snuggling her closest breast against his chest. He liked that a hell of a lot too. His jeans tightened like a vise.
"It's a long, sad story," she said. With her other