SmokingHot (20 page)

“Good thinking,” she said sweetly.

”You should take sensible precautions. Watch out for unfamiliar cars, persons. Avoid situations that make you uncomfortable.”

Right. Like that was happening.

“If Herring’s on parole, aren’t you watching him?”

There was another brief hesitation. Damn it. She
knew
she shouldn’t have gotten out of bed today.

“Mr. Herring failed to check in with his parole officer,” the District Attorney’s assistant admitted.

Great. “You lost him.”

“We’ll get him back.” Determination filled the other woman’s voice and, if good intentions were all that it took, Herring would have been back under lock and key. Unfortunately, Mimi knew all too well the difference between
good intentions
and
reality.
“Until then, we recommend that you be careful and keep an eye out for trouble. I can have the local police department send patrol cars past your place.”

She had to laugh at that offer. Strong was barely qualified as a small town since the place consisted of little more than a few streets and a handful of buildings. Strong also came with a historic firehouse, Faye Duncan-Donovan’s art gallery, and a handful of antique shops. The whole place was disgustingly picturesque, from the wooden sidewalks to the red geraniums sprouting from tin cans. Strong was the kind of old-time California place, part small town and all charm, that made drive-through tourists stop and take a second look.

What Strong didn’t have was much in the way of crime.

Mercedes Hernandez, the town’s lone deputy sheriff, doubled as the coroner and the fire marshal, backed up by two reserve deputies and a part-time dispatcher. Mercedes kept busy—Mimi had a fine collection of speeding tickets to prove it—but she could easily imagine the other woman’s reaction to be asked to take on what amounted to babysitting duties.

“I’m fine,” she said, because the Oakland District Attorney’s office didn’t need the details of her life. And it was true. She was always fine.

“If you change your mind or you feel threatened in any way, let us know,” the DA’s assistant said and finally wrapped up their call.

Right. Like that was an option. Instead of answering—because, really, she’d said everything that needed saying—she tapped the Call End button. What did you do when the past refused to stay in the past?

***

Mack ran an eye over the manual’s diagrams as he teased the soda gun apart. Whatever Mimi had done to it, the thing was jacked as hell. He turned a page and discovered the mother lode of information.
Problem solved.
His hands continued to work on autopilot while he tried to hear what was going on just outside the bar’s front door. Eavesdropping wasn’t nice, but he didn’t mind as much as he should have. Mimi’s face had gotten just a little bit pinched when she’d seen the number. Given her attitude towards worrying—he was pretty sure she’d kick back with a margarita if and when the zombie apocalypse hit—he therefore inferred that the caller probably had extremely unwelcome news.

Secret babies. International political conspiracies. Neither was entirely outside the realm of possibility either. Or maybe she’d just outrun her credit limit. He wouldn’t know, of course, because Mimi didn’t believe in sharing information. Instead, he’d been reduced to hijacking her manual and fixing her soda gun. He was pretty sure that made him pathetic.

Whoever had called her, she wasn’t interested in a long conversation. She padded back inside in under five minutes and hopped up on the counter, crossing her legs, the better to watch him work. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have minded. He liked looking at Mimi.

She’d worn a little black dress at Faye and Evan’s wedding (clearly, she hadn’t read the memo about not wearing black to a wedding or, more likely, hadn’t cared) paired with a pair of four-inch red fuck-me heels he was fairly certain would haunt his fantasies for decades to come. Today she had on a pair of cut-off shorts roughly the same length as those wicked heels, the soft denim fringe cupping her ass. She also sported a pair of cowboy boots and a faded T-shirt with the bar’s logo emblazoned over her very spectacular breasts.

She’d piled her hair on top of her head in one of those complicated messy up-dos women sported. The style defied the laws of gravity, sexy wisps clinging to her neck where he could just see the edges of her tattoo. Her wedding hair had been fancier and smoother, but this hair made her look like she’d just rolled out of bed and he loved it. And she was beautiful no matter what she wore. Her long, tanned legs begged him to run a hand up their silky length. Down again. Hell, over and over if she’d only let him because her legs weren’t doing the begging—
he
was. Mentally, because he had some pride, but still. She had him tied in knots and he didn’t like it. Mimi Hart was the kind of woman who ate men for breakfast and letting her know she had the upper hand would be a disaster.

There was a moment of silence as she looked at him. “Am I paying you to do that?”

She didn’t sound all that curious and he didn’t look up from his work. “Nope. Consider it a freebie.”

Over the past few months, they’d established a pattern. He came by and fixed little things for her or he BBQ-ed in the big kettledrum cooker she kept out back. They were almost…
friends
. And then he’d gone and screwed that up by sleeping with her last night. Of course, since she’d made it painfully clear she planned on ignoring the sex, perhaps the friendship avenue was still open to him.

He waited, but of course she didn’t volunteer any information about her call. Instead, she watched as he screwed the last bolt back onto the gun and tested. The soda shot straight where it should go.

He set the gun back in its holder and restored the manual to oblivion under the counter. “All fixed.”

“Thanks.”

He didn’t want thanks. He wanted information. He knew Mimi liked to take care of herself and, from all the evidence to date, she’d done a damned fine job of doing so. She owned her own bar, managing the books and the inventory as easily as she handled the occasional troublesome guest. He’d seen her show a mean drunk to the door, delivering the man to the parking lot and Sheriff Hernandez with smooth aplomb. Nothing fazed her except—he looked down at the soda gun—the odd mechanical issue and even then, he figured she was simply smart enough to let him do the heavy lifting there.

But something about that call had shaken her. She didn’t look quite as confident or certain as she usually did. Putting his finger on the
why
wasn’t easy. She was the same gorgeous bombshell of a woman, but her shoulders took on a vulnerable curve as she hunched in on herself and watched him. He didn’t want to guess. No, he wanted her to
tell
him what had upset her, to open up just a little. Funny how they could have sex, her body open to his in the most intimate way possible, but Mimi herself was further away, more closed off than ever.

“Are you in trouble?” He let the unspoken
again
hang in the air between them. Too bad if that particular truth pissed her off. He’d never known a woman who got into more trouble, so his guess seemed like a real safe bet.

She didn’t look away or drop her gaze. “Are you listening to my phone calls now?”

That wasn’t a
no
. He narrowed his gaze. Which, in Mimi parlance, meant
hell yes
. Great. He stepped toward her, slapping his hands down on either side of her. She’d made a tactical mistake when she’d parked her pretty ass on the counter, because it meant she couldn’t get away from him without an obvious retreat—and Mimi didn’t retreat. Ever.

Sure enough, she glared at him and poked his chest with her finger. At some point between the wedding and now, she’d re-painted her nails. He had no idea when she found the time to do all these girly things, when he knew for a fact that running the bar singlehandedly had her working her ass off, but he liked the color. The red was a cheerful
fuck you
, with some kind of white flower with yellow centers. He hadn’t realized she had an artistic side, but that probably explained the tattoo.

“In my space, Johnson.” She snapped the challenge at him, but her eyes still looked lost. “Back off.”

He answered her by moving closer and putting a hand on her knee. Her skin jumped against his palm, because Mimi was ticklish. And sensitive. He’d learned that last night. He was taking advantage like this, but he didn’t care. That was the God’s honest truth. Mimi ate
nice
for breakfast and he wasn’t letting her walk all over him. Instead, he pushed gently on her knee, silently demanding she yield.

“Too bad,” he growled. “I asked you a question. And, yeah, I listened. Close the door if you don’t want an audience.”

Her naughty smile widened. “I don’t mind. Do you like to
watch
?”

A blast of heat hit him hard, blood surging to his dick as erotic images jolted through his head and derailed his train of thought. Mimi, laid out on his bed, touching herself. Her fingers easing beneath her shorts and underneath her panties while she showed him exactly how she liked to pleasure herself… But that was the point, wasn’t it? She wanted him off-balance and thinking with his dick rather than his head. Sex was a great way to control a man but, unfortunately for Mimi, Mack was used to being in charge.

He pushed again. Harder, until he could step right between her thighs. Her lips parted and he wondered what was going through her head as her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

Arousal?

Desire?

Or one hundred percent pure calculation?

He didn’t like that last one at all. The bar’s counter put her at the perfect height for his dick to press against her. Her bare feet pressed into his legs, the heat of her scalding him through those teasing denim shorts of hers. Despite their position, she didn’t look concerned. Instead, she leaned back on her arms, staring at him for a heated moment before she deliberately wrapped her legs around his waist.
Power play
.

Damn, she was good.

Or bad.

Both words fit her and yet he couldn’t help but look down. The move sent her shorts riding up further and that was the sexiest thing he’d seen since yesterday because she flashed him a lacy hot pink thong. Last night’s panties had sported a little bow right over the heart of her and that made him wonder what today’s looked like. Pink, yes. And barely there… hell, yeah. Mimi wasn’t subtle, which was fine by him. He’d never won any prizes for understatement either. He leaned over her.

“Talk,” he rumbled. “Tell me what’s up.”

Unable to help himself, he rubbed a thumb over the creamy skin of her thigh, tracing the faint red marks there.
His
marks. He should have shaved yesterday before he’d taken her to bed—or she’d taken him—but he’d been too impatient and she’d been too demanding. She made him forget every rule he had.

So fuck it. He’d grab the bull by the horns and address the massive fucking elephant in the room.

Her naughty grin widened. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Right. The question where she’d asked him if he was some kind of voyeur. He thought about it for a moment, then gave her the truth. “I’d watch you.”

“Oh.” The small sound she made as she inhaled sharply hung in the air between them in the few inches of space he’d allowed her. Maybe she hadn’t expected that particular answer, but she got right back in the game, shooting him another come hither look as she did her best to distract him. “I don’t play those kinds of games.”

She paused, eying him as she considered her answer. “
Yet
.”

And… he had liftoff. His dick pressed against the buttons on his fly hard enough to leave an imprint. Which was what she’d been going for, he reminded himself. He liked the way she made him feel—hell, he flat-out loved it—but he’d asked her a question and she’d tossed him the pleasure bone to make him forget to care about her answer. That wasn’t happening.

“Are you in trouble?” he repeated.

She deliberately dropped her gaze down his body—more hardening on his part—and then her eyes snapped back to his. “One night,” she reminded him. “That’s my rule and
that
means that we were officially over and done with yesterday morning. Hands off and back up, smoke jumper. What I do with my life is none of your concern.”

~

Sweet Burn is available June 15
^th
, 2014!

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