Free Playing With Fire by Taylor Lee Page A

least Nate pulled it
back a little. He could have said, “Bully for you.” But the implication was
there.
    Erin peered back down at the table where she’d focused for
most of the conversation. She pressed her lips together in a straight line. The
heat on her cheeks matched the fury roiling in her stomach. She refused to
participate in the alpha male square-off. She could have told Blake he didn’t
have a chance. His expensive silk shirt and creased trousers had seemed elegant
when he met her at the entrance to the pub. Now they looked pretentious and out
of place, compared to Nate’s ubiquitous black t-shirt and worn jeans. Glancing
at Nate’s scuffed leather boots with the glint of a weapon in its holster, she
hoped he would contain his mean streak and not stomp on Blake’s expensive
loafers. Even Blake’s manicured hands that made Erin want to hide her ragged
nails, now looked effeminate compared to Nate’s calloused hands draped over the
back of his chair. Erin shivered, remembering his rough fingers stroking her
sensitive skin.
    Deciding she’d been humiliated enough, she tossed her napkin
on the table and rose. “I’m leaving.”
    Nate shook his head and stood, putting a casual hand on the
curve of Erin’s back just below her waist. He grinned when she shivered.
    “Uh uh, darlin’. That’s not necessary. I’m going back to
join my friends. Enjoy your dinner. The band will start playing in a few
minutes.”
    He put his hand around the back of her neck and tipped her
chin up with his thumb. Gazing in her eyes, he murmured, “Be sure you save a
dance for me, Erin.”
    He nodded at Blake, then sauntered off, stopping at several
tables along the way to greet people who hollered out to him.
    When Nate plopped back in his chair, Dan shoved a glass in
front of him and poured him a full shot of Jameson’s. The big Irishman’s eyes
were dancing.
    “Tell me. Did you piss on him or did you shit on him, too?
Maybe mark the table with your claws?”
    Nate’s lip quirked. He tossed back the booze and poured
himself another shot.
    “Nah, I just pissed on his leg.”

 

Chapter 11
    Blake tugged on her arm.
    “Please, Erin, sit down.”
    She shook her head, too angry to speak.
    Blake was insistent.
    “Look, Erin. Obviously that man is harassing you. If he
continues, let me know and I’ll have him reported. Cops can be held accountable
too, you know. But we don’t have to let him spoil our dinner. Here is our wine
now. Please. Sit down.”
    Erin hesitated, then sat back down trying to keep her hands
from shaking. She took several deep breaths determined to be calm. When she
thought she could speak in a relatively composed voice, she apologized.
    “I… I’m sorry, Blake. Nate is… is Lt. Lang’s cousin. Connor
Lang is my boss. He isn’t anything like his cousin, thank God.”
    “I’m glad to hear that. But let’s not waste time talking
about overgrown gym rats who like to throw their weight around. He’s not worth
the energy.”
    As though he was determined to start fresh, Blake gave her
an appraising once over.
    “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you how beautiful you
look tonight. That is a lovely dress, Erin. It matches your eyes.”
    Erin smiled and took a deep breath. Blake was right. She
shouldn’t let Nate spoil her evening. But Blake was wrong about something else.
Nate wasn’t an overgrown gym rat. He was a powerful, primal, extremely sexy
man.
    Blake waited for the waitress to uncork the wine then
indicated that he wanted to taste it. The young woman looked surprised as if
she wasn’t used to having patrons at the pub sample their wines. Nodding, she
poured an inch in his glass and stepped back. Blake swirled the wine in the
bottom of the glass then delicately sniffed it. Taking a small sip, he nodded to
the waitress indicating that she could pour his and Erin’s wine. Watching the
scene from downcast eyes, Erin felt a profound sense of relief that Nate wasn’t
there to observe