Trouble in Tampa by Nicole Williams Page A

head so badly. “You had trouble with that whole sharing concept in preschool, didn’t you?”
    “No. The other kids had trouble with my concept of sharing perhaps, but I had no trouble with that.”
    Spoken like a true narcissist. “Because you took what you wanted whenever you wanted it. Here you are, forty years later, trying to do the same to a young woman you don’t know anything about other than her first name and that she likes fast, expensive cars.”
    Rob leaned across the table. “I know more about you than that. A whole bunch more.” He wasn’t quite slurring, which was a good sign. Well, a better sign.
    “Like?” Catching the bartender’s attention, I lifted my glass. I was definitely going to need a third one.
    “Like that you’re so hot for me, your panties would need changing if you wore any.” A lazy smile that made me want to gag moved onto his face.
    “And because you think you know that about me, you assume you know everything there is to know?”
    Rob drained the last drop from his glass before slamming it down. “Everything I want and need to know.”
    Why did every conversation I had with him feel like some great challenge not to dry heave? Never mind. Rhetorical question.
    “How did you find me?” I asked, thanking the bartender with a nod when she dropped my fresh cherry Coke in front of me.
    “I can find anyone I want, whenever I want. This is my city. I own it.” As the bartender passed him, Rob grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. The dude was all kinds of physical with all kinds of women. “Be a sweetheart and bring me two whiskey sours.”
    “Two?” The bartender glared at his hand wrapped around her arm. “Don’t you think you’ve already had two too many?”
    “No, I don’t think so.” Rob shook his head once. “And it’s not your job to think. A girl’s thoughts are never rational or worth verbalizing. So why don’t you smile pretty, nod, and serve me my drinks like your gender was created to do?”
    Wow. Okay, so there was a nastier monster hiding inside of Rob Tucker than I’d guessed. Nothing like a few too many drinks to bring out that monster.
    Whipping her arm out of his hold, the bartender gave me a look that said she thought I was crazy for being the woman sitting across from him. I answered with a shrug—I was crazy. That came with the job.
    “So you found me because you own this town. Got it. But explain to me why you wanted to find me so badly.” I took a sip of my fresh Coke, keeping my calm and collected act strong. I wouldn’t buckle under my emotions like I had yesterday.
    “Me and you.” He waved his finger between us. “We’ve got unfinished business.”
    I didn’t need to clarify what that unfinished business was—it was pretty damn clear what he was talking about.
    “And until we finish this business, you’re going to pop up in every lounge I visit?”
    Rob reached across the table for my hand, wrist, or arm. I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t wait to find out. I slid my hand off the table and folded my arm into my lap.
    He said, “I’ll be in every lounge, around every corner, down every sidewalk, and every shadow you feel behind you until you quit this whole hard-to-get act and give in to what we both want.”
    “You’re doing all of this for sex? Searching all of Tampa for me, trying to intimidate me in a bar, threatening to stalk me day in and day out . . . all because you want to get laid?” I shoved my chair back a bit, needing to put more distance between us.
    “That’s part of it.” He glanced back at the bar, raising his empty glass and waving it about. If the bartender could flip him off with her eyes, she just had.
    “And what’s the other part of it?” I asked.
    Rob smiled crookedly. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
    Someone call the clever police because we’ve got a bright one here.
    “Listen, Rob, let me return the favor and be frank.” I leveled my eyes with his and reminded myself