Code Red by Susan Elaine Mac Nicol Page A

the
restaurant. One was tall, dark, and gorgeous, and the other was
older and shorter with thinning blond hair. They both looked over
at her. Bingo. Maybe the good-looking one
would like some company for a few hours.
    Downing the second shot with a false bravado,
she strutted toward the men’s table holding the third.
    “Careful, Jess,” Adam warned.
    She ignored him.
    The older of the two assessed her approach
with ice blue eyes. He grinned as she came closer.
    The younger, more attractive guy didn’t
appear too young, maybe late thirties or early forties. He narrowed
his eyes and appeared as though he was trying to deflect her
arrival with a laser beam glare.
    “Hi, guys,” she said, directing her voice and
her gaze to the friendlier of the two. “Thanks for the drink.”
    The balding blond smiled, but Mr. Grumpy
shook his head. “You have the wrong table, sweetheart. Why don’t
you try your luck elsewhere?”
    A quick assessment of the rest of the tables
revealed her mistake. The drink was from Carter Jackson. He tried
to wave her over, but her stomach knotted as she recalled her night
with him. His preoccupation with the color of her panties and
whether he could fit into her shoes creeped her out. No, she wasn’t
that desperate. Better to take a chance with the new guys in
town.
    The blond moved his walking cane over so she
could slide in next to him.
    She snuggled in close, but spoke to Mr.
Grumpy. “Your friend likes my company.”
    Too bad the cute guy wasn’t interested. His
friend leaned into her and caressed her shoulder, pushier than the
usual guys she hung out with. She almost shoved him away and
returned to the bar, but something in the cute one’s assessing eyes
held her in place.
    “Max, leave the lady alone. We need to
focus.” Mr. Grumpy’s voice was a low growl. A warning lit up inside
Jess, but her body was sending mixed signals like the adrenaline
rush one had before jumping over a cliff.
    “You spend your time the way you want. I
prefer spending time with the girl.” Max had a Russian accent. He
pulled her even closer, and his hand slipped around her waist.
    When he began to nibble her ear, Jess
flinched. She tried to relax and let her inhibitions fall away, but
the disgusted look of Mr. Grumpy reminded her of just how low she’d
fallen in the past month. This was a bad idea.
    She tried to shift away, but Max had locked
his arm around her waist.
    “I think she’s no longer interested,” Mr.
Grumpy said.
    “She offered. I accepted.” Max sucked on her
neck, causing a wave of nausea to roll through Jess’s stomach.
    The other man rubbed his brow, as though her
presence was a huge inconvenience. “Are you okay?”
    Jess could deal with a lot, but not pity. She
placed her arm over the Russian’s shoulder and ran her fingers
through his hair. He had a bald spot at the top and the feel of her
fingers gliding across a smooth, sweaty scalp did nothing to
comfort her. “I’m fine. Jealous?”
    “No. I like my women willing.”
    He speared her with his eyes, straight into
her soul, as though he could see her past, her present, and her
future, and he didn’t like what he saw, and for the first time
since Robert died Jess cared what a man thought of her. This man.
The one not touching her. The one who seemed disgusted with her
behavior.
    He glanced at the door and back at her. His
expression softened.
    “Want to buy me a drink now?” Confidence
filled her words. Would he pull her to his side of the table?
Hopefully.
    With a shake of his head, he dismissed her.
“I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you leave this bar right now
and go home.”
    Did he think she was after money?
    “Screw you. Max here wants my company. Your
opinion doesn’t matter.” But it did. His opinion ripped at her
conscience and made her want to run home and mourn the loss of the
beautiful future someone had promised her and failed to provide.
Was this her future now, drinking away her memories and losing