Page 15 of Taking the Heat


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“Oh.” Cheeks going pink again, she looked down at her legs. Her hands settled on her thighs as if to cover them, but then her fingers spread.

Gabe watched, wondering what her skin felt like. Warm, probably. Soft. Nice.

“Thank you,” she said. “If that’s a compliment.”

“It’s definitely a compliment.”

“Are you flirting with me?” she asked, then immediately shook her head. “I’m sorry. I always ask weird questions like that. It’s a problem.”

“How is it a problem?”

“Well, it’s a little awkward, isn’t it? That’s my flirting technique. Complete awkwardness. Look, it’s happening right now. Are you entranced?”

“I kind of am,” he said, smiling at her until she smiled back. “If awkwardness is your flirting technique, then you’re clearly into me right now.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Clearly. But isn’t everyone into you?”

He was the one who drew back this time. “What?”

She watched him as she sipped from her drink, her eyes still sparkling with laughter. Her gaze dipped down his body when she set her glass on the table. “Come on. Look at you. You’re so damn hot.”

“I am?” he asked, feeling his own cheeks get warm.

“Yes, with your little beard and your shoulders and all this.” She waved her hand up and down, while Gabe touched his beard in confusion. “Never mind,” Veronica said. “I’m drunk. Ignore me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t—” But before he could finish his sentence, she downed the rest of the drink.

“No, I hardly ever get drunk. I want to get drunk. I want to have fun for once.”

“You look like you’ve had plenty of fun in your life.”

“Ha! You’re wrong about that.”

“Come on. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself after all the excitement of the big city. But you can have fun here, too.”

“Oh, sure,” she huffed out on a laugh.

He bristled a little, used to hearing this kind of shit from his oldest friends. “It’s not New York, but it’s a good place. Aren’t you having fun right now?”

She nodded and leaned closer. Gabe tried very hard not to glance down her dress to the slight rise of her breasts, if only because her gaze was locked on his face. “Gabe MacKenzie,” she said in a loud whisper, “you’re beautiful.”

He’d been flattered by her attention, but with those words he realized she was just very, very drunk. Her bright smile was gorgeous, but her eyes had gotten a little hazy. “Okay,” he said, “you’re cut off. And I think I’d better walk you home.”

She rolled her eyes. “I lived in Brooklyn. I can handle myself in Wyoming. And walking won’t be a problem. I’ve got the legs of a Russian weight lifter.” She slapped her bare thighs.

“That is not what I said.”

“What did you say?” she teased.

“I said they were strong. Muscled. You look like you run or bike or—”

Her groan cut him off as she dropped her head to her hands. “I was going for cute tonight. Just cute. Why can’t I even pull that off?”

“Are you kidding? You’re just fishing for compliments now. You’re really cute. The definition of cute. But your legs...your legs are sexy.”

She raised her head, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Making fun? You really aren’t very good at this flirting thing, are you?”

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