Briar
Thompson believes she has it all, the perfect boyfriend and a promising
future, until she's forced to face reality. With all hope of true love
gone, what chances are there for a happily ever after?
Sloan
Gutiérrez arrives in town to set up his home after buying a
professional baseball team called The Devils. While he appreciates all
females, gold diggers are always on the prowl, making his plans for the
future seem elusive. The last thing he expects is to fall for the first
woman he meets.
Strains
of soft rock played from the house band, sectioned away from the big
screen televisions with various football games stretched across the best
entertainment systems money could buy. Briar scanned the crowd while
toying with her drink, a ploy to make sure she paced herself. A few
good-looking males without females on their arm sat at the bar and a few
tables. No doubt her three best friends would pander her to the first
hottie they set eyes on. When Suzanne's jaw opened wide with her hummina
expression, she whipped her head around to see what provoked the
instant lust.
"Aye
papi." Briar had never seen anybody so attractive. He had to know his
utter affect on anyone with a pulse. God help the person he landed,
because they would need nerves of steel to deal with the onslaught of
attention sent his way.
Why am I thinking this?
Suzanne nudged her under the table with a boot. "Briar, stop staring," she hissed under her breath.
"I…ah-oh…"
Tearing her gaze away, Briar felt her cheeks heat, looking at her
friends. "Sorry, guess that happens when you all go speechless." She
shrugged, taking a big gulp of her margarita. A choking pain seized her
before a coughing fit ensued as she tried to clear the alcohol from her
wind pipe. "Ohh the burn," she whimpered.
"Right there is one piece of sin I'd go to Hell for," Carissa crooned.
"Amen," both Suzanne and Darcy chimed. She wouldn't agree and give them the opportunity to set her up with him.
"He's
okay." Briar snuck one more peek. Her interest leaned against the bar
with a beer bottle against his lips. Lucky for her, he couldn't see her
raking her gaze over him, taking in the tattoo running the length of his
left arm. Nor could he see her body tremble, or smell the faint scent
of her sex dampening her panties from just sizing up his entire package.
She drained her margarita and turned back to her table. Her three
friends gave her knowing stares.
"He is the one," Darcy said with a smug grin.
"Definitely. She can't take her eyes off him. And wait. Check out the way he keeps glancing our way," Suzanne exclaimed.
"Stop.
I don't want him." Okay, that lie didn't count. She did want him—so bad
she could taste how his skin felt on her tongue. She wanted to lick him
from top to bottom like no one's business. However, her friends did
not, in no way, form or fashion, need to know that. "We just got here.
Can ya'll tone your craze to get me laid down a tad, please? I repeat I
do not want him."
"Think her nose'll grow?" Carissa grinned.
"Wonder
where he came from? He's not homegrown here in Kansas City . He could
be just passing through which is too good an opportunity to pass up
girlfriend." Suzanne's words rang true. She'd have a chance for a one
night stand without the hassle of awkward phone calls or second dates. A
sexy man passing through could be the one thing to get her moving
forward again.
"What color do you think his eyes are?" Darcy asked as she refilled glasses.
"Chocolate brown," Briar answered, licking salt off the rim of her drink.
"I say black as sin," Suzanne countered.
"Dark blue, so dark they border on black," Carissa supplanted.
Hmmm, was there such a thing as blue-black?
If they kept staring his way, he wouldn't need their loud whispering to know they were talking about him.
"We're
out of margaritas. Here Bri, you go get the refill and report back to
us the color of his eyes." Darci thrust the empty pitcher to her,
sporting a mischievous glint in her eyes.
She
took possession of the sticky container and wiped her hand on the side
of her pants, hoping she didn't leave a streak of margarita salt on
them, wishing for hand sanitizer.
"You
three waste no time. I love you all, but seriously? One of you could
easily go see for yourselves." Huffing a breath while glaring daggers at
them, Briar tossed her hat off her head, making sure it land on her
chair. She sauntered up to the bar, beaming a smile at the bartender
before setting the empty container in front of him. "A refill please,"
she requested as she opened her purse to withdraw her credit card. A
hand snaked out to stop her and grazed over the top of her knuckles.
Jolts of energy spiked across her skin, traveling with a rush to her
core. She swallowed hard in an attempt to formulate a coherent sentence.
Tingling deliciously from the tiny touch, the stranger's presence
overwhelmed her.
"Let me treat you." The voice who owned the hand produced his own card and handed it directly to the bartender.
"I—we,
can pay for our own," she stammered. She waited for the deep lazy drawl
in his out-of-the-blue-offer to leave his lips and caress her ears
again, setting off a keg of powder to ignite within her.
"It's my pleasure to buy four beautiful ladies a drink." He held out his hand to her. "By the way, my name is Sloan."
"Briar."
She returned his greeting seconds later at his prodding expression. The
calloused grooves of his hand scraped her palm eliciting a silent groan
of pleasure. "Nice to meet you." She lifted her gaze level with his
losing herself in the darkest brown orbs she'd ever seen—ones she'd
drown in. Sloan belonged in a magazine. He did look a bit familiar but
she couldn't place his face. Possibly she'd seen him in a commercial or
something.
"Thank
you." She took in the slight curve to his nose, suppressing the urge to
trail her finger over it. One would think a crooked nose would make him
less handsome, but the opposite gained her apt attention.
"Want to check my teeth?" he joked, his accent thick.
"No,"
she responded, suddenly apprehensive. "Thanks for the margaritas.
Carissa, Darcy, and Suz are sure to be thankful for the nice words and
free drink." She stepped out of arms reach.
"How about you?"
"Yes,
I appreciate the gesture." She thanked God for her mocha skin color or
he'd see a definite blush tinting her face. With her hand on the
pitcher, she forced herself to move back to the table. Three sets of
eyes eagerly waited for her to dish the digs.
"So?" Carissa prodded.
"Dark
brown, so dark they melt into black. His voice seduced me. So yes,
that's one tall drink of sin right there." She dazed off remembering how
his mouth moved as he spoke, the cleft in his chin, dimples she itched
to stroke. "He bought our pitcher and when he shook my hand, it felt
like a caress more than a handshake." Smiling, she continued her
description. "His name is Sloan. He works hard at whatever he does."
Realizing she was giving her friends more encouragement to set her up,
she topped everyone's drinks. "We should toast to him in thanks." She
lifted her glass up, turning her body sideways. When she secured his
attention, Briar kicked the others under the table to do the same. Hell,
even his half nod of acknowledgment sent a jolt of lust down her spine.
"He
is into you." Suzanne tipped her drink into her mouth. "The question
remains, what do you plan on doing to keep his interest?"
"Nothing."
Briar tucked a strand of her ebony hair behind her ear, sipped her
drink and tried not to stalk the man with her traitorous stare. The
alcohol finally took hold, working its magic, soothing her nerves,
giving aid in relaxing her.
"Bullshit.
He has the appearance of a sexual god. Notice his hair, his eyes, and I
don't need to remind you of his voice. We're all melting over here, and
he's not even for one of us. Though, I might attempt to woo him my way,
but it is apparent that he only has eyes for you. Imagine all the
alcohol induced fornication you could embark on with him." Suzanne
sighed.
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