Page 12 of Ice Devil

We stared at each other for a full thirty seconds while the bartender started placing opened beer bottles on the bar. “You should try Guinness and a shot of Sambuca on the side sometime,” she said and the statement caught me completely off guard.

“Oh, yeah?” The idea had never occurred to me.

“Good stuff. Much more sophisticated.”

“Then why are you drinking a martini?”

Her shrug was so much like the feisty woman. Noncommittal. “I don’t like to follow rules, even my own.” At least her eyes were twinkling when she offered the statement.

“You know, I never asked you about yourself.”

This time her laugh was strained. “That’s because I was asking the questions. That’s my job.”

“Does it need to be that way? I answered everything you wanted to know. It’s only fair I’m allowed to ask you a few questions.”

As she wrapped her long fingers around her martini glass, I grabbed a beer to try to pull my attention away from my very lurid thoughts.

“Alright. Fair enough. But I should warn you. I don’t pull any punches.”

“Duly noted.” I shouldn’t like this girl in the least. She was edgy all around, but I’d sensed a softness she was determined to hide.

As if I should be interested in picking her apart. The chances of me seeing her again were next to zero. Maybe I liked or even preferred those odds. With no chance of getting close, I could enjoy the moment of intellection stimulation. Boy, wouldn’t my mother be proud.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why a reporter?”

“As a profession?”

I nodded while taking a long pull on the beer. “Is that too personal?”

When she laughed, I was thrown by how provocative the sound was. She was definitely uncomfortable around me, perhaps even more so than before. I suspected the reason could be as simple as interviewing an athlete was her form of wearing a mask. Or maybe when interviewing a bunch of sweaty guys, her armor.

With a drink in her hand and after having let her hair down, she was more vulnerable in both appearance and personally.

“Not really. It’s just that no one has asked me that question before.”

I sidled closer, daring to invade her space. While she didn’t bristle exactly, her breath hitched and she switched her attention back to the glass. “Should I start with something easier like how long does it take you to get the ugly images of a bunch of naked guys out of your mind?”

Sloane snapped her head in my direction with the swiftness of a woman in shock.

My question caught her completely off guard, and she spewed the sip she’d taken just as I’d refined my question. Instead of being embarrassed, her laughter became more boisterous and her eyes lit up in a way that I’d only seen once.

When she’d managed to jerk the towel from my body. I’d had women see me naked before, even being impressed or faking it to the best of their abilities, but her expression had been one I’d never forget.

Raging hunger with pheromones that had been off the charts.

We both reached for the stack of cocktail napkins at the same time, our fingers touching. The moment our skin made contact, a stark, white-hot static snap crackled between us. She flinched, jerking her hand away, her lips forming an O while her eyes opened wide.

The stinging jolt was undeniable, pulsing current racing straight up my arm, locking underneath my chest. What was worse than the fact my cock was also now pushing against my jeans was that a low, husky, and unwanted growl left my throat. While the sound should be imperceptible to most humans, there was no doubt she captured the primal release.

With her fingers curling, she waited until I pulled my hand away before grabbing a handful of the napkins, pushing several across the bar in my direction. While her smile slowly faded, her eyes never left mine.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shower you with vodka.” Her voice was different than before, lacking the formal edge that had demanded my attention.

My skin continued to tingle with a magnetic pull, a restless buzzing energy that made me acutely aware of every inch of space between us. All I could think about was how I wanted to bridge the distance.

“My fault. I shouldn’t have teased you.” On the contrary. I loved teasing her.