Part 25 (2/2)

c.r.a.p, she should've left. But then, maybe he was worth a little self-torture.

Casually, she watched as he came toward her. The three women zeroed in on him, their antennae going up. She could almost see the drool running down the sides of their mouths.

One of the three stood. Apparently, the leader of the pack. A frizzy-haired blond bimbo withf.u.c.k me flas.h.i.+ng on her forehead. She wore a tight black leather skirt up to her a.s.s cheeks and a knit s.h.i.+rt so low her silicone-enhanced b.o.o.bs practically spilled out. She went so far as to stand in Josh's path.

Cody had to give Josh credit-he walked around the woman as if she wasn't even there and didn't seem to notice when she flounced to the bar to order another drink.

He stopped at Cody's table. ”You waited.”

”Yeah, right, in your dreams,” she said with a very unladylike snort. ”As soon as I finish this I'm out of here. Sorry to disappoint you.”

He pulled a chair out, flipped it around, and straddled it. He didn't look a bit put out by her rudeness as he rested his chin on the top chair rung and stared at her.

What the h.e.l.l had she been thinking? Hanging around the bar this long had been a terrible idea.

She'd reached her self-torture limit, and then some. Josh was one of the bad boys. The ones who enjoyed the chase almost as much as they did the victory.

Foreplay. That's all it was to them. She'd seen too many females fall prey to a man in low-slung jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat. Josh had left his hat behind, but he might as well be wearing it the way the three women had given him the once-over.

”Can't we just talk?”

”Your kind never wants to just talk,” she countered.

”I won't even touch you.” He straightened, opening his hands in supplication. ”Talking, that's all we'll do.”

”Talking?” She didn't trust him, but then, she didn't trust anyone.

”Yeah, don't you feel it?”

He continued before she could ask what exactly she was supposed to be feeling-other than s.e.xually starved.

”You know, the rush of adrenaline that quickens your pulse when you bring down a skip. It takes me at least a couple of hours to unwind. Help me out. Just talk.”

Bad thing was, she knew exactly what he meant. She might look calm on the outside, but on the inside she was wound tighter than an eight-day clock. She doubted talking would help, but he was right. She didn't want to go home to a cold, empty apartment.

She nodded toward him. ”You talk, I'll listen.”

”Fair enough. What do you want to know? Ask me anything and I'll tell you.”

Yeah, right. Let's see how long it would take him to clam up when she got personal. ”Why do you date so many women, but never stay with one longer than a month?”

He grinned. ”So, you have been paying attention.”

Have a look at

AUSSIE RULES.

by Jill Shalvis.

Available now from Brava!

From the other side of the aircraft, the door opened. A set of stairs released. A moment later, two long legs emerged, clad in dark blue trousers, clean work boots, and topped by a most excellent a.s.s. Not averse to enjoying a good view, Mel stayed in place, watching as the rest of the man was revealed. White b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt, sleeves shoved up above his elbows, tawny hair past his collar, blowing in the wind.

Yep, there were a few perks to this job, one of them catering right to Mel's soft spot.

Pilots. This one looked more like a movie star pretending to be a pilot, but you wouldn't hear her complaining. And just like that, from the inside out, she began to warm up nicely.

The man held a clipboard, which he was looking at as he turned, ducking beneath the nose of the plane to come toe to toe with her, a lock of tawny hair falling carelessly over his forehead, his eyes shaded behind aviator sungla.s.ses.

And right then and there, every single l.u.s.t-filled thought drained out of Mel's head to make room for one hollow, horror-filled one.

No.

It couldn't be. After all this time, he wouldn'tdare show his face.

His only concession to the surprise was a raised brow as he lifted his sungla.s.ses, his sea green gaze taking its sweet time, touching over her own battered work boots, the dirty coveralls, the fiery, uncontrollable red hair she'd piled on top of her head without thought to her appearance. ”Look at you,” he murmured. ”All grown up. G'day, Mel.”

Yeah, he'd grown up, too. He was bigger, broader, and taller than the last time she'd seen him, but she couldn't mistake the smile-of pure, devilish, wicked trouble.

Australian accent, check.

Heart-stopping green eyes and long lashes to match the long, thick tumble of light brown hair falling in said eyes...check and check.

Curved mouth that could invoke huge waves of pa.s.sion or fury...CHECK. ”Bo Black,” she whispered, getting cold all over again.

c.o.c.king his head, he let out a slow smile. ”In the flesh, darlin'. Miss me?”

Miss him? Yeah, she'd missed him. Like one might miss a close call with a hand grenade. ”Get off my property.”

As if he had all the time in the d.a.m.n world, he leaned back against his plane, slapping the clipboard lightly against his thigh. ”No can do, mate.”

”Oh, yes you can.” Staggering at a strong gust of wind, she planted her feet more firmly as she pointed to his plane. ”You just get your Aussie a.s.s back inside that heap of junk and fly it the h.e.l.l out of here.”

<script>