When he’d gotten word a couple of days ago on Johnson’s escape, and he’d looked up Willa’s whereabouts, he’d been surprised to find she’d moved into his own backyard. Of course, he hadn’t lived in Colorado two years ago—“home” had been little more than a standard-issue Bureau box of an apartment in D.C. then. But to discover they both lived in the same place seemed like more than coincidence; it appeared providential.
From his safe, invisible position down the bar, he’d watched Regina’s friend—he knew her name was Vivienne Cruise—coax his target into doing tequila shots. He’d been slightly amused at Regina’s open shudder at the first…and surprised, then intrigued when she’d gone on to do the second and third.
The two women were now dancing. And he suspected that even if he didn’t have to watch Regina, he would have anyway. There was something ultimately alluring about the hesitant yet intrinsically sexy way she moved her slender body, despite the shapeless green dress and low heels she wore, contrasting with her friend’s fire-engine-red skirt and blouse and strappy black stilettos.
An odd couple if ever there was one.
The friend caught his gaze from across the room.
Damn.
He turned back toward the bar, but caught sight of the woman in the mirror as she grabbed Regina’s hand and started in his direction…
2
“WHERE ARE we going?” Regina asked, nearly stumbling trying to keep up with Vivienne’s long strides toward a destination she couldn’t see. Still, you weren’t supposed to fight the hand leading you. And she was feeling good. Perhaps a little too good.
“Well, hello there.”
Regina realized they had stopped. She stepped up next to her friend to find her addressing the wide back of a guy seated at the bar.
At first Regina thought he wasn’t going to respond. Then he slowly turned, looking her full in the face.
She caught her breath.
“My God!” Vivienne said. “You look just like that wrestler…or actor. What’s his name? The Rock.”
Regina fairly gulped as she stared into the man’s pitch-black eyes. While she understood the comparison her friend was making, this guy was different in significant ways from the actor. First of all, his features weren’t as sharp, but more angular. Second, he was slimmer, his build more ropy than bulky.
She took in his simple black T-shirt and dark denim jeans and then blinked to look back up into his mesmerizing eyes. He had yet to acknowledge her friend.
“Hi,” Viv said, obviously amused. “My name’s Vivienne. And the one you’re interested in is Regina. What’s your name?”
“Lincoln.”
Vivienne’s smile widened. “Wanna dance, Linc?”
His brows rose as he looked them over. “With both of you?”
“Uh-huh,” Viv confirmed.
Regina glanced at her. She wanted all three of them to dance together? She raised a hand to her forehead, pushing her hair back, wondering if it had been a good idea to drink those shots…
“Sure.”
Before she knew what was happening, she was back on the dance floor between Viv and Linc. She hadn’t realized he was so tall when he was sitting on the stool, but now he towered over her by a good foot. Her friend put her hands on her hips from behind and swiveled her to stand face-to-face with Linc. She stumbled and he automatically reached to balance her.
“I’ve always wanted to do that dance from my favorite movie!” Vivienne said from behind her.
“What movie?” Regina asked.
“Dirty Dancing. You know, the one where Jennifer Grey dances with Patrick Swayze and his partner?” She reached for her right hand and then Linc’s and put them together, then resumed her place behind Regina, complete with hands on her hips.
Regina slowly looked up into Linc’s striking face. God, but he was handsome. And the way he looked at her melted away whatever might be left of her reserve. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears, nearly drowning out the music. Her skin tingled all over. And an ache she hadn’t experienced in what seemed like forever took up residence between her thighs.
“Come on,” Vivienne said. “Let’s move.”
Linc moved his right foot forward and she dropped her left one back as Vivienne did the same behind her, the hands on her hips guiding her into the next step.
There was something naughtily hot about the movement. Especially when Linc leaned in closer, points of his body making contact with hers. Mmm…he smelled good. Like deep woods and fresh air and hot male. And his hand where it held hers was big and warm, sending little shocks of sensation up her arms and across her chest, hardening her nipples under her dress.
Much, much too much time had passed since she’d been this close to a man. Her senses didn’t seem to know what to do with the overwhelming input washing over them. Of course, the alcohol probably heightened that effect.
Just then, Regina didn’t care how or why she’d come to be in that particular spot at that particular time. She was merely enjoying that she was. And didn’t want to be anywhere else…
DAMN, SHE WAS INTOXICATING.
Linc wasn’t much of a drinker—he preferred to remain in control at all times—but on the few occasions he had indulged, he’d had a similar rush to the one he was feeling right now, looking down into Regina’s face.
He easily led the steps Vivienne suggested, finding the scene reenactment subtly sexy. The movie was one of his aunt’s favorites and he’d been forced to watch it with her no fewer than a dozen times over the years during his visits.
Somehow in all his research, he’d missed the fact that Regina was stunningly attractive. Then again, maybe he hadn’t missed it so much as hadn’t anticipated his reaction to her being this close. It wasn’t often he came into face-to-face contact with one of his subjects, much less cheek to cheek.
His gaze skimmed her features, taking in the arch of her soft brows, the sizzling warmth in her green eyes, the almost poutlike quirk of her full lips. This close up he also understood that she wasn’t as thin as he’d originally thought. There wasn’t a single sharp angle to her.
His jeans tightened incrementally with each brush of his body against hers.
She readjusted her hand in his. He looked at her fingers and short, clean nails, totally unlike the bloodred polished ones her friend had. He knew Regina worked as a waitress at a small downtown diner and imagined she must do a lot to keep her hands as soft as they were.
He’d already guessed she didn’t drink often. If he needed further proof of that, her unsteadiness on her feet was clear evidence.
As she swayed toward him, his body instantly reacted, need, sure and swift, exploding through him.
“Sorry.” He saw her speak the word rather than hear it as she looked up into his face, her nose mere millimeters from his.
He swallowed hard, wanting to kiss her so much in that one moment it was all he could do to stop himself.
Interestingly, he didn’t have to. Because she kissed him.
He wasn’t surprised to find she tasted as good as she looked. Strawberry lip gloss teased his taste buds even as the tang of tequila remained on her breath.
“I