Free Forward Passes (Seattle Lumberjacks) by Jami Davenport Page A

Lavender fanned herself. One of the brothers must have cranked the heat again.
    Tyler’s knowing smirk irritated her. He lowered his voice. “What do I win?” The gravel in his voice wet her panties. She tingled in places she didn’t know she could tingle.
    “You won’t win.”
    “I told you. I’m a competitive man.”
    “How about a kiss with tongue and all.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before her brain engaged.
    Tyler looked her up and down, as if considering the challenge she’d laid on the table. His patent slow, sexy grin slid across his face. He dropped his voice to a low rumble and arched one eyebrow. “Just a kiss?”
    “That’s it. Nothing more.” She walked back to the bar and tossed a sassy grin she didn’t feel over her shoulder. Inside she cringed at her stupid dare. She couldn’t afford to lose for more reasons than money. He followed her, obviously intrigued.
    “Trust me. You won’t be able to stop with just one. I’m that good.”
    Only a delusional woman would argue with that statement. “So am I.” Her smart mouth needed to go back in a cell where it belonged. She’d just committed herself to a kiss, tongue and all, assuming she lost, then admitted she’d most likely go further.
    And damn, she wanted to go further.
    “It’s a deal then. We start right now.” Consulting his watch, Tyler Harris grinned at her, his eyes dark with an animal need, which clenched her insides into a knot and set her libido on fire. Her mind slid into a quick fantasy with his hot, sweat-soaked body sliding across hers while his cock got acquainted with her pussy. She suspected his cock matched his giant ego in size and stamina.
    Dang, but she loved sex with a man she hated. No worries about pleasing the other, no concerns over what to do in the morning. Just down-dirty, slam-bam, rough-tumble, get-it-done sex. The best kind in her book.
    It’d been ages since she’d let a man get her naked and parallel on a bed. She feared it’d only be a matter of time, and the less she liked him the better the sex.
    In that case, sex with the insufferable Tyler Harris would be mind-blowing.

Chapter 9
    Standing in the Pocket
    A few days later, Tyler wrapped his hands around a beer bottle and watched. Lavender single-handedly managed the bar and juggled orders from the various patrons with her usual sassy efficiency.
    He shifted on his bar stool, the same bar stool which should have his name on it. No one else in the small island town dared to sit in his space. If some poor clueless soul parked his ass on Tyler’s stool, a regular made sure he vacated it as soon as Ty walked in the door. He liked that about a small town. People got it.
    Lavender whooshed by him, balancing a full tray of drinks. He followed her with his eyes, appreciating her many assets. Hell, his fantasies about those particular assets kept him sane. Zipping behind the bar, she whipped up a few martinis with her usual efficiency. Somehow she managed to please all her customers, except him. As long as she wore clothes, he’d be wanting more. A lot more. He licked his lips as her delectable tits bounced with every step she took.
    His gaze swept across the room, and zeroed in on a guy watching Lavender as intently as Tyler was. The jerk flirted shamelessly with her, and she flirted right back. A wave of jealousy surged through Tyler, surprising him with its intensity. He tried to shrug it off as a by-product of his alpha-male possessive streak. What’s his was his, and no else better forget that.
    His? What the fuck. She wasn’t his. In fact, they didn’t even like each other. Of course, those two little details didn’t stop Tyler. He locked eyes with the interloper and pinned him to the wall with a threatening glare. No one lusted after the object of Tyler’s current lust. No one. The chickenshit paled and swallowed nervously. Gulping down the last of his beer, the idiot slapped some change on the table, and quickly hustled out the door.