Run the Risk by Lori Foster

that’d ensure
he had a bed partner for the night. This time, he flat-out didn’t feel like it.
Never mind that minutes ago he’d been thinking a tumble was just what he needed.
“Yeah, I am.”
    “How about I join you?”
    “A persuasive offer, if all you want is conversation.”
    She paused, coy, suggestive. “And if I wanted more?”
    “Tonight’s a no-go for me, honey. Sorry.”
    His rejection surprised her and set her to pouting. “Should I
ask why?”
    “I have something I need to do.”
    She slipped into the chair opposite him. Touching his shoulder
with one manicured fingertip, her eyes heavy, her mouth smiling, she whispered,
“Do me.”
    “Ah, now that’s tempting.” He took her warm hand and relocated
it to the tabletop. “But I still have to decline.”
    “I could be a nice distraction.”
    “I don’t doubt it.” Admiration at her confidence gentled his
tone. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
    “Tomorrow, then?”
    He half smiled. “So you don’t just want to share a drink, huh?
All right then. If I’m here tomorrow, feel free to hit me up.”
    She flattened both hands on the table in front of him, bent
forward, and said close to his mouth, “Be here.” And with that, she straightened
and sashayed off.
    Damn, but he enjoyed women. The more brazen and confident and
upfront, the better.
    “The other waitress was busy,” said that familiar husky
voice.
    Usually he liked brazen and
up-front. This time, something altogether different appealed to him. Rowdy
switched his attention to the redhead.
    She plunked his beer down on the table hard enough to slosh
some out of the glass.
    “Thanks.” That she hadn’t abandoned him as she’d threatened
didn’t really surprise him. Women could be adorably predictable. Teasing her, he
asked, “Something wrong?”
    “Not at all. Is there anything else I can get you—and, no, no
innuendo, please.”
    Her prim voice amused him. “Would I be that clichéd?”
    “My apologies for assuming that you would.” She started to
leave.
    “There is one thing.”
    Even over the loud music and drone of conversation, he heard
her groan of exasperation.
    Keeping her back to him, she stopped, inhaled and finally
looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”
    Folding his arms on the table, Rowdy leaned forward. “I need
your name.”
    “Noooo,” she said on a laugh. “You most definitely do not.”
    Three women approached, stepping around her and crowding his
table. Rowdy wanted to curse the interruption.
    “Just a sec, girls.” Impatient, he stood to see around them.
The waitress, checking in at other tables, was already a few feet away. To the
ladies, he said, “Be right back.”
    Not caring what they thought of that, he took several long
strides and snagged the waitress by the apron tie at the small of her back,
drawing her up short.
    In silky tones, he said, “Now, don’t run off.”
    “I was not running. I have work to do.”
    “If you say so.” Still holding on to that tie, he drew her
closer. “You may as well give me a name. Otherwise I’ll have to ask around.”
    Losing some of her good humor, she stiffened. “Why ever would
you do that?”
    Near her ear, Rowdy whispered, “Pure, hot, male…curiosity?” The
warm scent of her made his gut clench as he breathed her in.
    That pushed her over the edge.
    She jerked around to blast him with temper but went still as
she took in his size.
    Staring down at her, anticipation heightened, Rowdy waited to
see what she’d do or say. He had a feeling she wouldn’t bore him.
    “Good grief.” She tipped her head way back and stared into his
eyes. “You’re big!”
    Pleasure warmed him. She warmed
him. “I think you mean tall.”
    Still looking him over, she asked absently, “What?”
    “You’re commenting on my height, yes?”
    “Of course. You’re what? Six and a half feet?”
    “Six-four. But as to me being big…” He touched her chin. “Wanna
find out?”
    She finally caught on, but