I’m here for you. I’ll keep you safe.
What she read in his face must have scared her even more than Carlo Vega’s release. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open and for one brief second she looked absolutely terrified.
Then just as quickly as she had let it fall down, she zipped her guard back up, locking herself inside her tower, hiding her emotions beneath those dark eyelashes. He wondered what it would take to scale that fortress.
“I’m thirsty,” she said matter-of-factly, pulling out of his arms and stepping away from him so quickly she almost collided with another couple. He took her elbow and guided her off the dance floor, but the way her muscles tensed beneath his fingers, he could tell she didn’t appreciate his proprietary touch.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked, dropping his hand.
Her gaze darted toward the bar. “I have a drink.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“No, no,” she said. “I can get it myself.”
Tanner’s eyes met hers again. “Am I being dismissed? Did I do something wrong?”
“Nothing. It was a nice dance. Thank you.” She smiled with her mouth but not with her eyes.
“I am being dismissed.”
She laughed a sound of nervousness, not humor. “I’m just tired of dancing.”
“Is there something else you’d like to do instead?” He didn’t mean to sound suggestive, but he heard the innuendo in his voice and instantly cringed. “I mean,” he hurried to amend, “like play pool? Or shuffleboard? Darts, maybe?”
“I think it’s time I called it a night,” she said, walking away from him, heading toward the bar.
“Do you think that’s wise?” he asked.
Vanessa halted, looked back over her shoulder at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’ve had two shots of tequila in under two hours.”
Suspicion descended over her face like a heavy curtain. “You were watching me?”
“The entire bar was watching you,” he said. It was true enough. “You shouldn’t be driving. Maybe we could go to the hotel down the street, next block over, and grab a late dinner in their restaurant. They stay open until eleven on weekends.”
“I don’t drink and drive,” she said. “I took a taxi. When I plan to drink, I think ahead.”
He knew that. He’d followed her here from her condo, but he couldn’t show that he knew it.
“But,” she said, “I am hungry.” Then she raked a glance over him like a very naughty girl and licked her lips. “So I accept your offer of dinner.”
Whoa, Tanner thought as he stared into her dark, enigmatic eyes.
How had he ended up here? Nothing about this evening had gone according to plan. He was getting in over his head and he realized too late that he’d forgotten how to swim.
Chapter 2
“I’M IN THE MOOD FOR STEAK,” Vanessa told her dinner companion as they sat in the hotel dining room. At this late hour there was only a handful of other diners in the place. “I don’t normally eat red meat, but tonight I’m feeling—”
“Like you need to bolster your courage?” he finished.
That wasn’t what she was going to say at all, but it was the truth. Taken aback, Vanessa stared at him.
The man’s unsettling blue eyes held her own over the flickering candles in the middle of the white linen tablecloth. She had an urge to put up her dukes in a boxing stance.
“Why did you say that?” she asked.
“Going to a nightclub you don’t often frequent, dancing with a stranger, then joining him for dinner. Now ordering steak. Do you want to talk about it?”
Irritation sideswiped her like transfer paint in a fender bender. Vanessa swallowed, arranged her face into a smile. Was she that transparent or was he that perceptive? “I changed my mind. I do want to know your name. But only your first name.”
“Why’s that?”
“Last names complicate things.”
“Tanner,” he said. “How ’bout you?”
She extended her hand across the table. “Vanessa.”
He shook her hand. His palm was warm in hers, calloused. These were not the pampered hands of a surgeon, the type of men she usually dated. These hands knew manual labor.
The waitress appeared at their table with two glasses of water.
“Two tenderloin steaks.” Tanner looked at Vanessa, “Medium?”
“Medium rare,” she supplied to be perverse. She did prefer her steaks cooked medium, but she didn’t like him guessing that about her.
“Two coffees, steaks medium rare and the sautéed vegetables,” he told the waitress and handed her their menus.
She frowned, not knowing why she was feeling so argumentative and yet so interested.
“Why are you trying so hard to look so tough?” he asked.
“Who says I’m not tough?” She hardened her jaw, sat up straighter in the seat and gave him her best barrio-girl expression.
“That cross-me-and-you-die look in your eyes.”
“You don’t think I’m serious?”
He shook his head. “Oh, you’re tough on the outside, but inside—” he thumped his right fist over his heart “—you feel deep.”
A sense of vulnerability wrapped her in a sweaty hug. She made a derisive noise even though she would like very much to feel him inside her. “Is this your best pickup line?”
The notion was unexpected but intriguing. One night in bed with this tall drink of water might just be the antidote she needed to quell thoughts of Carlo Vega. She found Tanner far more appealing than she should. Everything about him was sexy, even the proprietary way he’d ordered for her.
“You picked me up, remember?”
She had indeed. “And now you think you know everything about me.”
“Not everything.” He took a sip of water. “But I’d like to know more.”
Yeah, she’d like to know more about him, too. But why? She wasn’t in the market for a serious relationship, or any relationship for that matter. She still had a year to go on her residency and it required all her dedication and concentration. But one glorious night with the studly Viking here? Oh, yeah.
The waitress, clad in a simple uniform of black slacks and a white silk blouse, brought their order, rescuing Vanessa from having to answer the question in his piercing blue eyes. She couldn’t help wondering what he would think if he knew the truth about her. Where she was from. The things she’d done to survive and make her way in the world. And that nothing mattered more to her than her career.
“Did you used to be a Boy Scout?” she asked to derail him.
He stopped buttering his roll and looked at her. “What makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “You just look like a Boy Scout. Blond. Clean-cut. Perfect posture.”
“Yes,” he said. “I was a Boy Scout. Even earned a good conduct medal.” His grin was self-deprecating. “Were you ever a Girl Scout?”
In the barrio?
“So what do you do for fun?” he