Free High-Stakes Playboy by Cindy Dees

openly crowding her, and she got a panicked look in her eyes, like a baby bunny cornered by a big, bad fox.
    Swearing, Archer stood up. He had no choice but to act. Painful erection notwithstanding, he managed to stride across the dining room to her side. He rested a light, but unmistakably possessive, hand on the small of her back.
    “Hi there, beautiful,” he said to Marley before nodding at Gordon. “Hey, Trap.”
    “Scram, Archer,” Trapowski growled. “I’m talking to the girl.”
    “She’s not your property, buddy.”
    “She ain’t yours, neither.”
    Archer glanced down at Marley’s plate, and it had enough food on it for her to politely walk away from the buffet. “Would you like to sit with me, Marley?”
    “I’d love to.” She smiled brilliantly at him, and in that moment, rescuing damsels in distress leaped high on his list of favorite things in the world to do.
    He was pretty sure he heard Gordon’s teeth grinding together as she leaned into his encircling arm. Over her head, he flashed the guy a triumphant grin, and Trap actually growled aloud.
Too bad, jackass. The girl’s mine.
    The thought jolted him.
    Hell, no! Love ’em and leave ’em,
his gut chanted at him.
Before they walk out on you.
His mother had given up on him, on life, and died rather than deal with her grief and failures. He had always been the kind of guy whom women used for his body until they got bored and moved on to the next gigolo wannabe—unless he beat them to the moving-on bit.
    Marley deserved better.
Screw Steve and his admonition not to get emotionally involved with her.
His gut said she was no way, no how, guilty of the crimes of which she was suspected.
    He led her to the corner of the dining room and a cozy table for two. Their knees bumped and the heat leftover from last night’s good-night kiss abruptly flared like a supermassive solar storm between them. Her gaze jerked to his face, and her breasts lifted sharply on a gasp. His male parts leaped against the tight confines of his jeans.
    “I can’t remember the last time a woman made me react like this.”
    “I know what you mean.”
    Just watching those glossy red lips form words made him think about how they’d feel on his flesh. All warm and soft and tight. He groaned and tore his gaze away from her mouth. They were in a cafeteria full of people, for heaven’s sake.
    She looked down, blushing nearly as red as the strawberries on her plastic plate. He studied her face as she concentrated on her food, slicing it into precise little chunks that she proceeded to push around on her plate like toy cars. Too sexually frustrated to eat, huh? He knew the feeling.
    Yup, he made her nervous. Really nervous. Like she was seriously hoping to sleep with him and didn’t know what to do about it. It was one of the sexiest damned things he’d ever seen, watching the struggle play out on her sweet face. A weird, nameless thing...moved...in him. It was more than sexual attraction. Different than simple lust. Deeper than mere possessiveness. But putting a name to it completely eluded him.
    One thing he knew for sure. He wasn’t going to let his brother or anyone else railroad her out of this job without proof positive that she was the culprit behind all the accidents.
    “Uh, how are you today?” she asked awkwardly. She peeked up at him shyly, caught him studying her and looked down hastily. She was adorable when she was all jumpy and unsure of herself like this.
    “Turned on. You?”
    “Same.”
    “How’d you sleep last night?”
    She pushed her green-pea salad in fast little circles around her grilled chicken breast.
Yesss.
    He leaned close to murmur, “I dreamed about you, too. Woke up so hard I had to take a shower in the middle of night to relieve my discomfort.”
    What the hell are you doing, buddy? She’s not your type.
    “Really?” she blurted. Her cheeks turned bright pink. Bonified all-American-girl material.
You don’t do pure and sweet. You