Southern Heat (Game On Book 2) Read online

  “Friends.” The word left a sour taste in her mouth. “When were we ever friends, Roger? Were we friends the night we met? When all you could think about was getting into my pants?”

  “That’s—”

  “Or three months later when we moved in together, were we friends then?” She plowed over his attempt to interrupt, her anger gaining steam. “How about the next year, when you took the position in Little Rock and begged me to leave my work, my home, my friends, my family in Boston, to move to this godforsaken sauna with you. I gave up everything, and you left me without so much as an explanation. Friends? Try again, Roger. We’ve never been friends.”

  Oh yeah. That felt good.

  “Gabby, come on. It’s not like you to be so … hostile.”

  “Things change.” The steam from her outburst dissipated like a cloud of dust, leaving her slightly light-headed. “And drop the tone if you want to continue this conversation.” It was the one he used when he thought she was being unreasonable.

  She had reason. She had a whole boatload of reason.

  “This fiancée of yours … she’s the reason you left?” Not that it mattered anymore, but she needed to know.

  His heavy sigh tickled her ear. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  Yet, he still hadn’t apologized. “I’m not sure what you hoped to accomplish with this call. You want me to assuage your guilt by telling you it’s okay? Don’t hold your breath. I won’t ever tell you the way you handled our situation was okay, Roger. That’s your mess to work through. I’ve moved on.”

  Even as she said it, she realized it was true. Her chest felt lighter. She had moved on. Didn’t mean she wasn’t upset about how he’d treated her, though. “Best you do the same, Roger. Whatever we had in the past, it’s long over. Since the lawyers are handling the paperwork to transfer the house over to me, there’s no reason for you to call me again. But truly, congratulations. Whoever she is, I hope you show her more respect than you showed me.”

  Gabriella hung up without waiting to hear his reply. Her anger died with the line.

  She hadn’t lied. She wouldn’t be so quick to offer her heart in the future, but she’d mended. The last six months she had focused on her career. Through helping others, she’d been able to deal with the hurt and grief she felt when Roger walked out.

  Somewhere along the way, she’d repaired the damage he left behind. Because for the first time in months, she felt ready. Not ready for a relationship, but ready for a little fun. Ready to feel like a desirable woman again.

  Gabriella headed toward the shower.

  No better time than the present.

  2

  Riverbend sported less than a handful of restaurants and even fewer places to get a cold adult beverage. Gabriella had no desire to socialize with half the town by stopping into the local sports bar. She was looking for a different kind of sport tonight, so she headed west of town.

  Ten minutes later—just beyond the railroad tracks, set back from the road, and surrounded by trees—she parked her late model SUV in the gravel lot behind Tank’s.

  She’d been coming to Tank’s since moving to Arkansas three years ago. She’d found the place by accidentas most people do, she was informed.

  “Nobody comes to Tank’s the first time on purpose.” Eddie, Tank’s lone bartender and the only employee she’d ever seen working, had told her when she’d strolled in.

  She still didn’t know who the hell Tank was.

  The clientele at Tank’s reminded Gabriella of her friends back in Boston. Salt-of-the-earth, hard-working people. Tank’s wasn’t a big-crowd, run-of-the-mill kind of place. It was a hole in the wall, proudly serving the coldest beer in three counties. A fact the regulars kept to themselves.

  After three years, Gabriella figured she knew everyone who came to Tank’s. There was a certain biker who’d been trying to get her attention for months. Freddie was ruggedly handsome and filled out a pair of jeans and leather chaps in a way any woman would appreciate. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy. Quick to laugh. Quicker to fight.

  Although she’d rarely seen him when his knuckles weren’t busted up, he was nice to her. Treated her with respect.

  Maybe she’d flirt with him tonight. See where it led.

  She flipped her sleek, black hair over her shoulder. Smoothed her hands over the mint-green tank top tucked into faded jean shorts. At the last minute, she un-tucked the sides of the shirt and let it fall in casual disarray around her belt buckle.

  The air conditioner in the bar worked much better than her unit at home. The immediate drop in temperature against her heated skin caused her nipples to harden. A quick sweep of the room indicated Freddie wasn’t around.

  Gabriella suddenly felt ridiculous. What was she thinking? Despite Freddie’s gruff nature, he seemed like a decent guy. He would show her a good time if she encouraged him. According to reputation and bar gossip, he never left a woman unsatisfied...

  Who was she kidding? She wasn’t interested in Freddie. She wasn’t looking for an emotional connection, but she needed to feel something. An attraction, a flutter of arousal, a skip in her heartbeat, anything. When she thought about Freddie, she didn’t feel anything but a casual fondness for the guy. Not the kind of fondness that inspired her to get naked.

  A moot point, since Freddie wasn’t around. She might as well stay and enjoy the cool interior of the bar while she could.

  Gabriella made her way to the bar. She slid onto a stool at the end where she could covertly watch the rest of the room. There were a handful of familiar faces. Plus, two unfamiliar, but very yummy-looking, men playing a round at the single pool table.

  “Hiya, Gab. The usual?”

  “Hey, Eddie. Just one tonight. Then switch me to soda.” She still had to work tomorrow.

  “You got it.”

  The big, burly man coaxed the perfect beer from the tap. Very little foam and cold enough to make her teeth ache.

  “Slow night?” Only a handful of people were scattered about the place.

  He slapped a napkin down in front of her and placed the frosted mug on top. “Seems not many people venture out when it’s this hot.” Eddie cocked his head and looked her over.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down. It’s usually pulled back into one of them ponytail thingies.” A spark of male interest lit his smile. “It’s pretty.”

  Heat filled her cheeks. Gabriella was glad for the dim lighting. She smoothed her hand over her hair. Good lord, she was out of practice. One silly compliment—from a man she wasn’t even attracted to—and she was a blushing mess.

  “Thanks, Eddie. I opted for a change tonight.”

  He gave her another appreciative once over. “So I see.”

  Uncomfortable with his sudden attention, Gabriella turned toward the room while she sipped her beer. Her gaze landed on the men playing pool.

  Polar opposites. One had hair dark as midnight falling in wavy disarray around his head. The other wore a short, military-style cut so it was harder to tell, but from the way it reflected she’d bet his hair was light as sunshine. Mr. Dark Hair wore a faded T-shirt and jeans, while his pal wore a dark-colored Henley and tan cargo shorts.

  Both were tall and appeared heavily muscled, although the dark-headed man was thicker through the chest and legs. Both were devastatingly handsome. Even still, she couldn’t seem to drag her gaze from the leaner of the two. Something about the way he moved around the table—his casual gait almost predatory as he searched for a shot—had butterflies tickling her mid-section.

  He bent to take a shot and caught her staring. A grin curved one side of his mouth. He dipped his head in silent acknowledgement before returning his attention to the game.

  Gabriella felt the stirrings of arousal build between her legs. She squeezed her knees together, savoring the rush.

  This. This is what she missed. The thrill of anticipation. Her body reacting on instinct rather than by the c
ommand of her own hand.

  It had been so long since she’d looked at man with anything other than professional regard, she’d forgotten how pleasurable it could be to simply watch a man move.

  The two displayed an easy camaraderie that spoke of history, as though they’d hung out together a hundred times. Crew-cut banked a shot, landing his ball in the pocket. His buddy laughed and playfully shoved him. Her man grimaced. He balled and flexed his fist, either to hit his friend or shake off some untold pain the shove had caused.

  Gabriella scanned his body for injury. He did seem to favor his right side, but there weren’t any visible signs as to why.

  The scowl slowly drifted from his face as his friend leaned in to say something. Gabriella wished she could read lips. She’d give her left boob to know why his mouth quirked up. When both men glanced in her direction she realized the extent to which she’d been watching. More like gawking.

  Shit!

  She spun back toward the bar, knocking her knee against the wood in the process. She hissed as pain reverberated up her thigh. Not wanting to draw attention, she ignored the scrape and drained her beer, sorry now she’d told Eddie to limit her to one.

  Her heart hammered against her ribcage. What the hell had she been doing? Salivating over the two of them as though they were prime slabs of beef. Good lord.

  “Can I get two more?”

  Gabriella jumped as a deep rumble sounded beside her, close enough she could feel his heat. She didn’t have to look to know the voice belonged to one of the men she’d been ogling. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine which man carried the husky tone, but curiosity got the better of her.

  She turned to find a shit-eating grin spread across a handsome face. He leaned a casual elbow against the bar.

  “Hey.” Warm, whiskey-colored eyes gleamed with mischief. “I’m Devon.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “The guy over there is Ty.”

  “Hi,” she returned with a smile of her own. “I’m Gabriella.”

  “Well, Gabriella, I’m hoping you can help me.”

  Admittedly, she’d been out of the dating scene for a while, but she knew a pickup line when she heard one. Too bad it came from the wrong guy. Still, the guy was smokin’ hot, so she played along.

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “What’s the problem?”

  “My friend and I have a little wager going. Ty thinks you’re much too pretty to be sittin’ here all alone. I told him a woman as gorgeous as you must be waitin’ on someone. He’s convinced I’m wrong. Said you’d welcome an invitation to join our game.”

  “Is that right?” Gabriella’s brain took a momentary powder as she digested the information. Ty thought she was pretty. That was something, right? And the moisture in her panties proved the attraction was mutual.

  “Here you go.” Scowling, Eddie clapped two mugs onto the bar. “That’ll be five bucks.”

  Devon ignored Eddie and raised his hands, showing he held a neatly folded twenty-dollar bill in each. “What’ll it be, beautiful? You waitin’ or playin’?” He waggled the bills. “Loser pays for the round.”

  Feeling more at ease with his charm, Gabriella pretended to consider his plight. “Which twenty is Ty’s?”

  Devon’s smile faltered as he twitched the fingers pinching the bill in his left hand. She tugged it free and shoved it in her pocket. Then, she snatched the bill from his right and slapped it on the bar.

  “Keep the change,” she told Eddie and hopped from the barstool. Ty thought she was pretty. For tonight, it was enough.

  “Hell, yeah,” Devon cheered as she turned and made her way to the pool table.

  * * *

  As the beauty walked his way, Tyler was fucking pumped. No. Not walked. Glided. Her body screamed sensuality.

  Hot damn.

  He’d love to get her on a dance floor, discover all of the delicious ways her sinful body could move. Pure, animal lust shot through him, making him hard enough to strain his zipper.

  The woman sported curves that should be illegal in all fifty states. A soft smile played on her lips. Her hips gently swayed as she closed the distance between them. Had he ever seen anything so mouth-watering?

  Coming to a shit-hole bar in the middle of nowhere hadn’t been Tyler’s idea. After the game, he’d assumed they’d hit the River Market district in downtown Little Rock. Friday night meant the party crowd would be out in spades. They’d be guaranteed to find some action in one of the many bars there.

  Instead, Devon had driven them to Tank’s. How the hell Devon had even known about this place was a mystery to him. And after an hour of playing pool with only Devon’s ugly mug to look at, Tyler had begun to get downright grumpy.

  He wasn’t feeling grumpy anymore.

  Christ. She’d looked hot from across the room. Up close, she was more than hot. She was a fucking knockout.

  He shifted to greet her.

  “You’re Ty?”

  His gaze trailed from her face, down her neck, and over her breasts. Down the length of her torso. Past the curve of her hips to her strong, tanned thighs. Thighs he could easily imagine squeezing the hell out of him as he pounded into her. Just as he could easily imagine the long, black strands of her hair teasing his fingers as she took his cock into her mouth.

  The woman was a walking wet dream. The kind of woman he could sink his teeth into, lose himself in for a few hours. Maybe more.

  He took back all thoughts of kicking the shit out of Devon. In fact, he might just buy the fucker a new car.

  “I am.” Tyler extended his hand, finding it impossible not to reach for her even though the action caused his shoulder to protest. “And you are?”

  She dug into her pocket. Before he could figure out what she was up to, she slapped a twenty against his palm. Dark, exotic eyes—liquid chocolate mixed with swirls of honey—met his. Thick, peach-colored lips curved into a grin, revealing a tiny dimple.

  Christ. Make that two cars.

  “I’m Gabriella.” Her voice held a hint of accent he recognized from his years living in New York. “Congratulations. You won.”

  Fuck yeah, he did. Tyler closed his hand around hers and urged her closer. Without hesitation, she followed his silent command until they stood damn near toe to toe. Her hand was soft. Pure silk against his calloused palm. He’d bet she was soft other places, too. He’d known her less than two minutes, yet he was dying to find out. To explore her body, uncover those hidden areas that made her whimper with pleasure.

  After the last few weeks, he needed the stress relief a night of harmless sex could provide. Something told him Gabriella would be worth every minute.

  “It’s my lucky day,” he drawled, praying it was true. History forced him to watch closely for any sign of recognition. He’d learned to be leery of women who knew who he was. Not that women weren’t fans of his sport. He knew many who were. The ones who were fans of his wallet were the women he tried to avoid.

  “The bartender asked me to deliver this to you.” Devon interrupted Tyler’s thoughts when he handed Gabriella a glass filled with a dark, bubbly liquid.

  “What’s that?” Tyler asked.

  “Soda.” Gabriella raised her glass in a toast. “Straight up.”

  Devon handed him a beer. “She’s partying hardcore tonight.”

  Gabriella took Devon’s tease in stride. “I’m not into the kind of party found in the bottom of a bottle. I like to remember where I’ve been. What I’ve done. Who I’ve been with.” She tossed a saucy wink his way.

  Holy shit.

  Tyler’s brows shot up. His cock wasn’t far behind. “That right?”

  As a lover, Tyler was demanding. Sure, getting his rocks off was the end game. But the good stuff happened along the way. The undressing. The caresses. The exploration of soft skin and wet heat. Coaxing a response. Discovering what made a woman purr. That’s what revved his engine. Giving pleasure as much as receiving it.

  He enjoyed a woman’s body, plain and sim
ple. But give him a confident woman, a woman who went after what she wanted unashamedly, and he’d be damn near in heaven.

  Laughter burst from her throat. The sound was husky, full of wicked intent. “You should see your face right now.” Her hand landed on his forearm, squeezing gently. “How about we start with a few games of pool and see where the night takes us?”

  “Can’t argue with logic like that.” Because going by the look she threw him, Tyler figured the odds were pretty good the evening would end in orgasms.

  “I’ll set,” Devon informed them. “You break,” he said to Gabriella. “Ty, you get to sit this one out.”

  Devon racked the next set while Gabriella chose a cue.

  “You got it.” Tyler didn’t mind watching. His gaze trailed over the subtle curve of Gabriella’s shoulders. She wasn’t heavily muscled, but a line defining her biceps twitched into view as she prepared to break. Soft and strong. A heady combination.

  After losing the first two games, Tyler and Devon switched to soda. After the next two, Tyler was ready to toss Gabriella over his shoulder and take her dirty, sweet, flirty smile right on out of there. They might even make it to the car before he knew the taste of her.

  She had a quick wit and traded barbs with ease. She swore like a pro with every bad stroke of the cue and told raunchy jokes with the slightest blush that charmed the hell out of him.

  Gabriella bent to take another shot. She looked over her shoulder, a half-smile playing on her lips when she found him watching. Again. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her all night.

  Tyler liked how she looked at him. As if he were the only man in the room. Better yet, the only naked man in the room. Those looks fired his libido into maximum overdrive.

  She returned his stare with a sultry one of her own.

  Nope. Not gonna make it to the car.

  The authoritative clack of the balls drew his attention back to the table where Gabriella had sunk the eight ball once again.

  “Either you two are the worst pool players in the history of the game, or I’m having the best run of my life,” she teased.