with anyone since the breakup with her erstwhile fiancé, Paul the potato farmer. Unfortunately, for the past few years, she’d been in a man famine. But Paul hadn’t been the adventurous sort, and he hadn’t given any credence to Fiona’s dreams of owning and managing her own hotel. He’d simply told her goodbye when she’d asked him to come with her. Granted, that farewell had stung like a hornet, but now that she’d had some distance, she realized that she wasn’t suited for a man like Paul. He’d preferred the quiet life and crops; she preferred bright lights and big city—and craved adventure.
Adventure was sitting only a few feet away in the form of a demigod with a black clothing fetish. A man who could probably show her the time of her life, if she worked up enough nerve to make the suggestion.
Fiona mentally cataloged all the bad pickup lines she’d experienced in her twenty-five years. Mind if I suck your lips off your face? Too obvious. Could I show you the back seat of my sedan? Too Benny Jack. Besides, her car was temporarily out of commission. And apparently so were her seduction skills.
Come-ons were not her forte, but she decided it was now or never. She would engage him in a conversation. Something simple. The weather. Jockeys or briefs?
Inhaling a cleansing breath, Fiona grabbed a moderately clean rag and began working her way back in his direction. When she was only inches from his hand, she asked, “Would you like more coffee?”
“Not presently.” He subtly surveyed the area, something that might be lost on any casual observer, but not on Fiona.
“Are you looking for someone?” she asked.
He shifted back around to face her. “Yes.”
A man of few words. But that would not deter her. Tonight she would become Fiona the Fearless Flirt. “A woman?”
“No.”
Fiona wanted to cheer. “Okay. What does your friend look like? Maybe I’ve seen him around.”
“He is definitely not a friend.”
From his acid tone, Fiona wondered if she would soon have a fight on her hands. “I’m guessing he’s an enemy, right?”
He gave her a questioning look. “Are you interested in astrology?”
A totally unexpected question. Fiona didn’t see him as an astrology kind of guy, and frankly she was hard-pressed to believe that planet alignment controlled fate. Where was the tall dark stranger who was supposed to enter her life when Mars was in retro-something? Sitting right in front of her.
What the heck. She’d play along. “I find astrology somewhat intriguing. In fact, I’d bet you’re a Scorpio.” The oversexed sign.
“Correct.”
Bingo! Darn, Fiona, you’re good.
His eyes narrowed. “Are you a Leo?”
No, she was a Pisces. But if he wanted her to be a Leo, she could do that. She liked lions. In fact, he made her want to growl. “How’d you guess?”
He hesitated a moment then said, “I did not realize you were a woman.”
Ouch. Did she look that awful? And did he think she had bowling balls stuffed in her shirt? Granted, she’d always considered being a bit top heavy somewhat of a curse for someone with such a small frame, yet she’d never expected anyone to believe they weren’t real, or that she was a cross dresser. But, after all, this was Vegas. And it would be just her luck if he was gay. “Yes, I’m a woman. If you want a drag club, you might try downtown or the Strip.”
“My apologies.” His gaze settled on her breasts. “It is quite obvious you’re a woman. I meant I was not informed of your gender.”
Okay, she could forgive him. But she was still a trifle confused and a whole lot warm when he leaned forward and asked, “Have you seen anything?”
She saw the crease framing the right of his mouth that probably turned into a dimple when he smiled, something he had yet to do. But Fiona smiled, a coy one, or at least she hoped it looked flirtatious and not forced. “I’ve seen just about everything. What exactly are you looking for?”
Before he could answer, the drunk Fiona had ousted not more than hour ago picked that inopportune time to burst through the door, clamoring for a beer.
Fiona pushed back from the bar and said, “You don’t need to be in here, Chuck. I’m not going to serve you.”
Ignoring Fiona, Chuck staggered behind the bar. “Just one more brewsky.”
Fiona scowled at him and pointed at the door. “You’ve had enough, now leave.”
“Aw, come on, Fee-Fee.”
He was pushing his luck now. “Go home, Chuck.”
“After you give me another drink,” he slurred, bringing his foul breath with him as he leaned forward and pointed a bratwurst finger in her face.
“Do what the lady asks or you will have to answer to me.”
Fiona glanced at Scorpio who now stood by the stool, looking and sounding like a dark knight bent on coming to her rescue. And they’d said chivalry was passé. What did they know? Regardless, even if she didn’t have a black belt in karate, or any color of belt for that matter, she was quite capable of taking care of herself. “He’s harmless,” she assured him before regarding the drunk again.
When Chuck clutched Fiona’s collar in both beefy fists, Fiona grabbed his wrists and shouted, “Back off!” thrusting her knee upward toward the intended target, but Chuck moved back before she could do any damage. No, not moved back. Yanked back by Scorpio who had somehow scaled the bar and now had the drunk pinned against the counter. He muttered something in a language that Fiona couldn’t understand, but she didn’t think he was telling Chuckie to have a nice night.
He shot a glance at Fiona. “What do you wish me to do with him?”
“Just put him out the door. I’ll call the police if he comes back in.”
Chuck looked as if he might blubber as Scorpio grabbed him by the nape and guided him toward the exit. Fiona felt like blubbering, too, as she watched her one opportunity to have some adventure walk out the door, probably never to return.
Darn. Another night in Dullsville.
As Darin stepped into the warm night, he silently cursed the drunk, cursed the fact that he’d been caught off guard by the FBI operative’s gender. He’d expected a man when Kent had told him the agent would operate under the code name Leo, not an attractive woman with hair the color of a sunset, large green eyes and perfect breasts that he had not been able to ignore. But he must ignore her if he intended to complete his mission. He had no time for a liaison or lover even if he’d entertained those thoughts when he had first set eyes on her. That was before he realized she would serve as his partner in apprehending Birkenfeld, not his partner beneath tangled sheets.
As soon as he deposited the drunk in the parking lot, he would return inside to the agent and discuss their plans before Birkenfeld’s scheduled arrival in one hour. He would also attempt to keep his eyes off her attributes, though that might prove difficult. But if all went well tonight, Darin would be back on the plane tomorrow morning and Birkenfeld would be back behind bars. And he would leave the woman behind without discovering if the fiery passion she seemed to possess held true in bed. Under different circumstances, he might attempt to find out.
Darin guided Chuck down the steps while the drunk whined, “Don’t hurt me, man.”
He had no intention of hurting him unless he attempted to harm the agent, although he suspected the woman could handle this troublemaker. After all, she had been trained by the best.
As they reached the walkway at the bottom of the steps, a passing man with a shaved head, his eyes lowered to the ground, muttered, “Excuse me.”
Darin’s blood ran cold at the sound of the voice.