Dangerous Curves (Dangerous Curves 1)

Jax Hamill glanced around the bar, looking to spot any trouble before it got started. In his five years as the owner of Dangerous Curves, five years as a bouncer, and more than fifteen years as a regular bar patron, he’d seen how trouble actually had a vibe. Like steam rising off a cup of coffee, trouble could move the air around a person, a couple, a group. Jax had become damn good at seeing those vibrations – sometimes long before the people involved even knew that they were on the verge of losing it and starting something.

His dark-green eyes scanned the bar again, taking it all in. A few weird things going on – like what the hell is that uptown blonde in the white sweater even fucking doing here, and why is she all over Mac? – but no red flags. Just a regular Saturday night, as far as he could tell. That was when he spotted her sitting at the far end of the bar by herself.

In a room full of activity and buzz, she was totally motionless; in a bar that was heaving with dancing, laughing, drinking people, she looked all alone. Removed and distant. She was leaning back on the bar, intently watching the games at the pool tables. She looked lost in her own little world, so Jax allowed himself to just stare at her.

Jesus Christ, look at that hair… dark red curls tumbling all the way down her back, just begging for him to grab them in his fists and pull her mouth up to his. Her lips were full and so were her breasts, her skin was pale and delicate, and looked like it’d be soft under his rough fingers.

She was the strangest combination of fire and silk, of generous curves and rigid control, and he longed to feel her heat and her smoothness. He wanted to watch her lose all hold on herself, to just let go. With him. Tonight, in one of the bar back rooms.

With a confidence born of years of successful womanizing, he sauntered over to her now, and sat down on the empty stool next to her.

“Hey there, Red.”

She glanced over at him. Those cool blue eyes took him in for sure, in all his hard, muscular glory, and she raised her eyebrows.

“Let me save you some time here, Stud,” she said.

He grinned. “‘Stud’?”

“‘Red’?” she rejoined.

He held up his massive hands, and grinned again. “OK, OK. Fair enough.”

“I’m not your type, trust me. So just try your luck elsewhere.” She turned her drink around and around between her hands. “I’m a good girl, and I don’t go home with bikers.”

“Well, thank Christ for that,” Jax said. “‘Cause I’m not a biker.”

“No?” she said looking him up and down, taking in his boots, jeans, black t-shirt, and tattoos that ran the whole length of both his arms.

“Nope. I mean, I have a motorcycle, but I’m not in any kind of club or gang, or whatever the hell you may be thinking.” He moved a bit closer to her. “I’m a business owner.”

“Huh.” Red didn’t seem all that impressed.

“This business, actually,” he said.

“This is your bar?”

“Yep.” Jax caught Aidan’s eye, and nodded at him to bring him a beer. “So what are you doing here, doll?”

“I’m not really here.”

“You’re not? You sure as hell look here to me.”

“No. I’m with my friend, and she’s here.”

He leaned back. “Let me guess. The blonde in white.”

“You got it in one,” she said. “She’s here looking to cut loose a bit, and I’m just waiting for her to make her move, either way.”

Jax took a sip of his beer. “What move?”

Red shrugged. “It depends. She may come to her senses in the next few minutes, and say she wants to leave. Or she may decide to go home with that guy she’s dancing and drinking with – if he’ll have her, of course.”

“That’s Mac,” Jax said. “If your friend’s looking for a one-night stand, she chose well, believe me. He’d go home with a chair if it was hot enough for him.”

She glanced at him again. “Charming. It also makes me worry more.”

“Hey, no, hold on. Mac’s a good guy. Your friend would be OK with him, I swear it. He’d never hurt her or force her, if that thought had crossed your mind.”

“Hey, no, hold on. Mac’s a good guy. Your friend would be OK with him, I swear it. He’d never hurt her or force her, if that thought had crossed your mind.”

She looked over at Mac, and Jax knew exactly what she was seeing. The man was over six feet and more than two hundred pounds of solid muscle and tattoos, with long, blond hair and hard blue eyes. Nothing soft or safe about him at first glance, but Jax knew better.

The blonde could do way worse for a meaningless fuck, and Mac would oblige her if she extended an invitation to spend the night together, for damn sure. He was a gentleman in his own way – always made sure that the ladies came first, and he even made them coffee the morning after.

Red turned back to him. “Well, I don’t think it’s going to come to that.”

“How come?”

“Because Ellen’s boyfriend is sure to show up any minute.”

“Uh-oh.” Automatically, Jax looked at the door. “How do you know?”