Saving the Best for Last by Jayne Kingston Page B

directed at him. It was the one that said, “Hold on to your hat, buddy, it’s your lucky day.”
    He looked around at the empty bar, now quiet and dark except for the light coming from the under-counter fluorescents and the neon beer signs in the front windows.
    “In that case your timing is perfect.”
    She was walking the length of the bar slowly, taking off her knit hat and mittens, leaving them like a trail of bread crumbs along the surface of the bar.
    “Why haven’t you ever hit on me, George?” she asked.
    He shrugged casually but his pulse was already picking up the pace. He had a pretty good idea about what she was warming up for.
    “You seem to be doing all right on your own,” he said, drying his hands.
    The truth was, he’d never really been sure what all the other guys saw in her. Sure she had all that long red hair, always worn in a thick Lara Croft braid down her back, and those huge blue eyes. But she was small—to the point that it looked as though one overzealous, heat-of-the-moment thrust would break her in half—and boyishly built.
    As she rounded the end of the bar and started coming behind it, her long, heavy winter coat still buttoned and covering her to the knee, the appeal of her hit like a slap in the face. The girl didn’t mess around, and when she’d set her sights on a guy, she made sure he got the message loud and clear. His cock, hearing the call as well, stirred in response.
    “How do you know I haven’t been coming in here, hoping you would buy me a drink one of these nights?” she asked, her fingers starting to work the buttons of her coat.
    “Have you?” He set the towel aside and waited, torn between letting her do whatever it was she’d come to do and sending her on her way with a pat on the head. He knew more than anyone how many other men she’d left his bar with over the past months, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be added to the roster.
    At his question, her confidence faltered for a brief flicker of a moment.
    “No.” She stopped a few feet away, bold again. “But the more you didn’t pay much attention to me, the more curious I got.” Her fingers slid the last button out of its hole and stopped working. “You know what they say, don’t you?”
    “Who’s they?” he asked, one hand still resting on the bar.
    “They.” She gestured in the air vaguely with her arms, then peeled off her coat and laid it casually over the bar as if she wasn’t naked except for a pair of thigh-high boots underneath.
    His cock came more fully to attention.
    Maybe he’d been wrong about the boyish thing. She was little, to be sure, but she’d been hiding a secret under the bulky sweaters she wore. Her breasts were small but high, firm and perfectly shaped with the most mouthwatering candy-pink nipples he’d ever seen.
    “Yep.” He nodded. “That should definitely happen to every guy at least once in his life.” He let his eyes travel lower, to her narrow waist and hips, and that tidy thatch of red hair between her legs. “You know anyone on the street could look in and see you?”
    She shrugged and put her hands on her naked hips. “So turn off the light.”
    He had to lean toward her to reach the switch under the counter. Suddenly she was awash in only the red and blue lights coming from the window at his back.
    “You were saying?” he asked, sick fascination and the moral paralyzer of a naked woman within arm’s reach keeping him from ending it before it began.
    “They say,” she continued, reaching for the hem of his shirt and making a smooth pass over his stomach before dipping into his jeans, “the least obvious guy is always the one who’s hiding the biggest secret.” Her eyes went wide as she stroked his cock from tip to root and back.
    George’s teeth clenched tight. She gave the head a squeeze that made his knees go loose.
    “Son of a bitch,” she said. “I fucking knew it.”
    Everything jerked into fast-forward motion. She took a condom