“Okay, but I’m guessing you can’t get past three.”

“Blah, blah. I’m hearing a lot of talk and no action.”

Cole held up his hand again and the waitress walked up to the table.

“Can you set us up with some shots?” He turned to P.J. “You got anything against tequila?”

“I’ve only got something against bad tequila. Don’t cheap out on me, Cole. You better get the good stuff.”

“You heard the lady,” Cole drawled. “Give us a setup of the best tequila you have.”

The waitress looked dubious but she nodded and headed in the direction of the bar.

P.J. studied him from underneath her eyelashes. Despite her initial annoyance, Cole was intriguing her. What was he doing here? And why? She could swear he was flirting with her, and the weird thing was, it was a rather delicious sensation.

A guy like Cole wouldn’t have to look far to get laid. No way he came all the way to Denver just for a piece of ass.

“So who were the clowns giving you a hard time?” he asked, breaking the silence.

P.J. grimaced. “Just some people I used to know. A long time ago.”

“Apparently they aren’t as taken with your charm as I am.”

She sputtered and choked on her laughter. She missed the camaraderie and constant ribbing when she was away from her team. It used to be like that on the S.W.A.T. team before Derek had to fuck it all up. P.J. had been certain she’d never find another position that was better than the early days with S.W.A.T. when she’d still been riding high on landing the gig as a female and had been wrapped up in her relationship with Derek.

But she’d been wrong. Going to KGI had opened her eyes to what loyalty to the team and one another was all about. The men she worked for were deeply honorable, but she’d always been careful to keep her distance. Especially from Cole. After Derek, she’d sworn off ever getting involved with someone she worked with.

The waitress returned, carrying a long board that had ten shot glasses. She set it on the table, took Cole’s credit card and then looked at them both as if to say have at it.

Cole picked up one glass, handed it to P.J. and then took another for himself. Then he held it up in a toast.

“To another successful mission.”

P.J. could drink to that. She tipped her shot glass against his and then they both downed the alcohol.

She nearly coughed as fire burned down her throat. Hell, it had been a good while since she’d had anything stronger than beer. She’d sworn off the hard stuff after her stint with S.W.A.T. and the aftermath of her leaving the unit.

She brought her glass down on the table with a thump and then stared challengingly at Cole. He grinned in return and then scooped up another glass. She leaned forward to take her own, but this time they were a bit slower to down them.

The music seemed to grow louder and the smoke got thicker. Her eyes watered, whether from the tequila or the smoke she wasn’t sure. Cole was right about one thing. This was a sucky place to spend her first evening back home.

“What do you say we finish up our five shots and head to my place?” she said before she could change her mind.

She couldn’t believe she’d taken the plunge after being so set on never allowing this sort of thing to happen. Chalk it up to the alcohol or her shitty evening. Either reason constituted one mistake, right? She just knew she suddenly didn’t want to be alone.

He frowned, and her heart sank. She hadn’t read him right at all, and now she was going to make a giant fool of herself. She was already preparing to excuse the invitation away with casual indifference when he spoke.

“If we’re going back to your place, one or both of us needs to stop drinking now. How about I get us a bottle and we’ll finish up there.”

She let out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even realized had welled up in her chest. She stood, pushing back from the table.

“You get the bottle. I’ll meet you in the parking lot. You can follow me back to my place.”

* * *

COLE went to the bar, motioned for the bartender and, a few moments later, left with a bottle and two shot glasses. Not that he intended on needing or wanting either, but he was going to make it look good.

He sauntered out to the parking lot, wondering if P.J. would even be there as she’d promised or whether she’d taken off.

She was a hard-ass. Hard to get close to. Hard to get any information from. He knew next to nothing about her personal life. She never slipped up and dropped hints. When they were on a mission, she had single-minded focus. And when the mission was over, she was always the first to bug out. No chitchat or social hour for her.

It had been surprising as hell to discover that she hung out in this joint. He would have guessed she hated people and that she’d never go out of her way to actually hang out in a place infested by them.

He didn’t feel one iota of guilt over slipping the GPS chip into her backpack before she’d left Tennessee. She carried that damn thing with her everywhere, and it had led him to the parking lot of the bar.

To his surprise she was standing by her jeep, leaned back with a cool expression on her face. Her eyes were unreadable as she stared up at him.

He held up the bottle and flashed a grin in her direction.

She gave a half smile in return then threw her thumb over her shoulder. “Follow me and try to keep up.”

Saucy little heifer. She had to make everything a challenge or a dare. It was okay, though. It wasn’t worth it if it was easy.

He climbed into his truck and quickly maneuvered onto the highway behind her, making sure she didn’t lose him. After a mile, she turned right into an apartment complex that looked like it dated back to the seventies. It was clean and seemed quiet, but Cole didn’t like how dark it was and that there were no security gates.

How the hell did a woman whose job was all about security and protection live in a place like this?

He pulled into the parking spot beside her and slid out. She was already on the sidewalk waiting for him, and before he could catch up to her, she turned and walked up the pathway to her front door.

He grimly surveyed the area, and when she opened the door, he frowned harder because the door wouldn’t withstand a simple kick. He walked through and then paused as she closed and secured the door. Not that it would do any good if someone really wanted in.

When she turned back to where he was standing, she frowned as she stared down at his hands.

“You forgot the tequila.”

“I didn’t forget anything.”

Before she could react, he backed her up against her door, his body pressing in close, and he did what he’d been dying to do ever since the day he’d first laid eyes on her.

He kissed her.

And this time it wasn’t some act he was putting on for the assholes giving P.J. a hard time, nor was he stopping anytime soon.

CHAPTER 2

FOR the second time that evening, P.J. found herself completely flustered and unable to think straight. Damn but the man could kiss like a dream.

She hated a man who was hesitant and unsure in his movements, and Cole was anything but. She loved strength. Confidence. But not an arrogant asshole.

Cole had the perfect combination. Confident. Convinced. He came across absolutely certain of himself.

She ran her hands up his chest between them and splayed her fingers out over the rippling muscles of his chest. Hard and so drool worthy. He’d starred in more than one of her erotic dreams, and now she had the real thing standing in her apartment, his mouth fused to hers like they were permanently attached.

His tongue swept sensuously over hers, stroking with velvety softness. She could taste the tequila they’d both consumed, but it was mixed with the strong, masculine taste of him as well.

She slid her hands back down and tugged impatiently at his shirt to free it from his pants. Then she placed her palms over his abdomen and he sucked in his breath, breaking raggedly away.

“Bed or couch?” she asked huskily.

He stared down at her, his eyes glittering hungrily. “Depends. How big is your bed?”

“King.”

“Perfect.”

He kissed her again, backing her away from the door as he did and farther into the living room. She was pulling at his shirt and he was yanking at hers.

“You got condoms?” she asked.

“Does it make me an asshole if I say yes?”

She laughed softly. So he had been planning to get into her pants. “Aren’t you military boys supposed to be prepared for anything? You never know when you’ll need to have end-of-the-world sex.”

“Hmm, now there’s an idea. Let’s have sex like the world’s going to end tomorrow.”

She pulled him down in a hot, mind-numbing kiss. “You talk too much.”

Her fingers were working the fly of his pants, and he was making quick work of her shirt. She pulled her hands away long enough for Cole to pull her shirt over her head, and then she unzipped him while he unzipped her.

“Bedroom,” he rasped out. “And be getting out of those jeans on the way.”

Clad in her bra and jeans that had the fly wide open, she led the way to the bedroom, working her pants down her hips as she went.

As soon as they entered the bedroom, she heard the clunk of one boot. She turned to see him hopping on one foot while he was taking the other boot off. They’d left a trail of clothing all the way from the living room, and now he was making fast work of his pants.

“Get the light,” he said.

“I like the dark.”

“Hell no, I’m not missing a single moment of this. Do you know how long I’ve fantasized about seeing you naked? That’s like denying a dying man his last wish.”

She smiled and reached for the light switch. When the room flooded with light, she saw that Cole was completely naked and she sucked in her breath, holding it until she was light-headed.

Holy crap. The man was gorgeous. Absolutely lickable. Broad shoulders, muscled biceps, a lean, very toned abdomen and my oh my was he stacked in all the right places.

“Jesus, P.J., quit staring. You’re going to give me a complex.”

She barely managed to drag her gaze upward to meet his. Unable to resist, she moved forward and pressed her hand to his bare chest, enjoying the feel of the light smattering of hair right over his heart. Then she let her fingers glide downward until they touched the tip of his cock.

Her fingertips danced along the length, teasing as he grew harder beneath her touch. Oh yes, there was no doubt this man was going to satisfy her.

“A man who looks as good as you do should never get a complex,” she murmured.

Satisfaction burned in his eyes, and then he surprised her by sweeping her into his arms. He carried her over to the bed and dropped her onto the mattress. She bounced once and then he yanked her jeans down her legs, tossing them over his shoulder.

“I would have never imagined you in this kind of lingerie,” he breathed.

She arched one eyebrow and sent him a quick frown. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s positively sinful. Black, lacy. Girly.”

He said the last almost accusingly.

“I wear it on all my missions. Not that I’m superstitious or anything, but if it works I’m leaving it alone. I consider them my good luck undies.”

She grinned because now he’d never be able to go on a mission with her without thinking of what she had on underneath.

He leaned down and she immediately went quiet, breath held in anticipation of what he’d do. When he’d touch her. How he’d touch her.

He slid his palms up her legs to rest possessively on her hips and then he bent lower to press his mouth over her navel.

The simple action sent a cascade of chill bumps dancing across her skin. The crisp hairs of his goatee brushed over sensitive flesh and heightened her awareness even further.

Such a simple gesture, but it was like opening the flood gates. Every nerve ending in her body was on high alert.

Then he hooked his thumbs in the band of her panties and pulled down, untangling them from her feet and tossing the wispy piece of lace in the direction her jeans had gone.

“No tan line,” he murmured. “Oh, the images that conjures for me. I’d love to know where the hell you sunbathe in the nude. I think I need a membership.”

He parted her legs then lowered his head. He nipped at the inside of her thigh, barely grazing the flesh with his teeth. It sent a delicious shiver all the way up her spine.

Using his thumb and index finger, he spread the lips of her vagina. His hot breath blew over the exposed skin, and she closed her eyes just as his tongue made contact with her clit.

It was like a sudden surge of electricity.

Her legs shook and her nerves tingled from head to toe. The man was an expert at going down on a woman. He wasn’t rough or in a hurry. He knew just how much pressure to apply and just where to touch.

He alternated pressing delicate kisses and stronger swipes of his tongue. The lighter touches were driving her insane. She was balanced on a razor-sharp edge ready to plummet at any second. Just a little more . . .