LITMIR.BIZ

      2

      IF THERE WAS one thing Ben Perry didn’t need tonight, it was the attention of a woman. Unfortunately his steadily rising testosterone had given him other ideas the minute he saw a stunning, slender blonde with a body that put air-brushed supermodels to shame, headed straight for him.

      Big, mesmerizing eyes, the color of rich jade, held his gaze with a determination and intensity that snared not only his attention, but jolted his libido with the force of a bolt of lightning. Before he had time to consider the consequences, he made the drastic error of encouraging her with a smile.

      He stood in the middle of the crowded bar as if he’d been planted there, unable to look away as she neared. The teasing grin curved her full lips. She had the kind of mouth destined to stir a man’s erotic fantasies.

      Okay, so a beautiful, intoxicating woman sparked his interest. A lot. That didn’t mean he had to act on the impulse. He hadn’t come to the Ivory Turtle looking for some fun for the night. In fact, he wouldn’t have come at all if Scorch and Brady hadn’t hijacked his pickup truck. Although he deeply appreciated their show of support after the emotionally charged week they’d all been through, he would’ve much rather spent the night alone in his quiet beach house.

      He wasn’t like them; he didn’t feel the need to raise a little hell in a desperate reaffirmation of life in the face of tragedy. They all knew the dangers of the job, accepting and facing them on a daily basis. Despite stringent safety measures, accidents still occurred. The bitch of it was, this one had happened on his watch, to one of his men.

      The blonde closed in on him, granting him the opportunity of an enlightening inspection. She was tall, more willowy than his first impression of her, with gentle curves and an intriguing sway of her hips as she walked purposely toward him. She was dressed conservatively for a Friday night, at least compared to ninety percent of the other female patrons. Her sleeveless blouse showed off the remnants of a summer tan and was tucked into a long straight skirt that fell just past her calves, shielding her legs from view. That didn’t stop his testosterone-induced imagination from running just a tad on the wild side. Sensible low-heeled brown pumps covered her feet, rather than the pair of CFM heels conjured by his wicked imagination.

      She stopped in front of him, and her smile faltered slightly. Despite her height, the top of her head barely reached past his shoulders. He waited, wondering what kind of line she’d attempt to hand him, or if she had some unique approach to picking up guys in a bar. Not that he had anything against a woman who knew what she wanted, if he was in the market, which he wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

      “I hope this isn’t too clichéd.” Her silky, smooth voice was confident, belying the slight frown tugging her honey-blond eyebrows downward in a show of apprehension. “But, would you allow me to buy you a drink?”

      His standard reply, a polite, thanks, but no thanks, hovered on his lips, until she cast a nervous glance over her shoulder. He looked over the top of her head to the other two women he’d spotted at her table earlier on his way to the men’s room. The flamboyantly dressed platinum blonde gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up, while the other, a cooler-looking brunette dressed in a jewel-toned silk blouse and dark slacks, crossed her arms and arched her brow in apparent skepticism.

      He didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. Obviously, she’d either been coerced by her friends to approach him, or she was making good on some bet. Considering he’d been in on the giving end of similar antics himself, the signs were easy to spot.

      The blonde turned to face him again, her apprehension clearly tangible now. She smoothed her palms down her slim skirt, then balled her delicate hands into tight fists. “You’d really be helping me out if you said yes.”

      He’d reached his self-imposed two-drink limit over an hour ago, and quite honestly, was more than ready to go home for the night. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his brother Drew, just as he nudged Tom “Scorch” McDonough hard in the ribs, then pointed in his direction. Scorch had the audacity to whistle.

      Just great, Ben thought. Could his timing be any more rotten? In no mood for the good-natured ribbing they’d surely hammer him with when he returned to their table if he blew off the blonde, he weighed his options. His youngest brother, Drew, would no doubt be the worst offender. Ever since he had surprised everyone by becoming involved in an actual monogamous relationship, the constant reminders of Ben’s sorry excuse for a love life had tripled, and had become twice as irritating. Even his other brother, Cale, and his new sister-in-law had begun to chide him gently about his single status, and they’d only returned from their honeymoon two days ago.

      Against his better judgment,

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