Hopefully, the FBI found this crazy person before his bad feeling turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
* * *
ONE DRINK SHOULDN’T be too bad, Rian told himself even though his nerves were drawn taut. That dress was doing terrible things to his resolve and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes where they belonged. Sweat popped along his brow and he wiped it away before the she-devil bewitching him saw it. That’s all he needed, her knowing that she was doing a number on him. He’d never live it down. He wouldn’t put it past her to prance around naked just to get his goat.
She sidled up to the bar and he followed after a quick look around the place to get situated. He always made sure he knew where all the exits were in case things went sour. True to her word, the place was small enough, not too crowded and didn’t make him want to leave the second he stepped over the threshold.
“See? It’s nice, isn’t it?” she prompted him for his opinion and he grunted an answer. “I’ll take that as a yes, though I’m not exactly fluent in caveman.”
“Yes, it’s fine,” he said, looking to the bartender. “A beer, whatever’s on tap.”
“Beer? That’s some sophisticated palate you have,” she teased, then said, “How about this...I’ll order for us both.”
“I like beer,” he said, not trusting her choices. “I don’t like sweet, froufrou drinks.”
“And you make the assumption that I do? Actually, I’m a whiskey girl. Jameson, actually.” At his open look of surprise she smiled and said, “I got a taste for it when I was traveling abroad in Ireland. Don’t tell my father, though. He’d fall over in a faint. He’s a wine snob.”
“I don’t mind a shot of Jameson,” he said, gesturing for her to go ahead. “But the deal was one drink.”
“Well, that was the initial offer. How about a counteroffer?”
“Such as?” Why was he encouraging her? One drink was all that was sensible. Anything after that was dangerous. But he liked the way her eyes sparkled with mischief and, again, that dress was messing with his head so he humored her. “What’s on the table? It’d better be good.”
“How about this...we will play a game. We’ll play I’ve Never. If you lose two out of three I’ve Nevers, you have to drink, but if you win, I drink.”
“That’s not a fair game. I know quite a bit about you, thanks to the tabloids. Plus, how are we supposed to know if either of us is lying?”
“I’ll be completely honest.” Her devilish smile was damn adorable. “Are you in?”
Well, hell, this was a bad idea, but he was intrigued. “One round,” he said.
“Winner chooses if we play again.”
He laughed. “Okay, prepare to lose, sweetheart.”
“We’ll see.”
“Ladies first.”
She wiggled on her bar stool, a happy smile curving her generous lips. “I’ve never...been in a threesome.”
Her opener was a doozy and it packed a punch. Going straight to questions sexual in nature was like throwing gunpowder on a fire. He licked his lips and chuckled, the sound a little strained. “You sure you want to go there first?”
“Is it true or false?” she said and he stifled a groan. How’d that girl manage to make innocent look sexy as hell? “Clock is ticking.”
“No one said anything about there being a time limit.”
“Ten seconds.”
She was a wild thing. At least, according to the tabloids. He took a chance. “False.”
CoCo laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, haven’t done that. What do you take me for?”
He laughed, not willing to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. “All right, you got me on that one. Next.”
“I’ve never...shot a gun.”
He didn’t hesitate on this one. “True.”
“Very good. I hate guns.” Her expression turned playfully serious. “Okay, here it goes...answer this one right and I drink...answer wrong and it’s down the hatch the whiskey goes for you.”
“Hit me. I’m just getting warmed up now.”
“So confident. Okay, I’ve never...been in love.”