The woman flushed, but slid into the chair at his table. “You like this band?”
He glanced at her. Once. A curt dismissal. He stared at her until she got up and stomped away. His rude behavior would only add to his carefully cultivated reputation of being a complete bastard. What did it matter? His reputation had been blackened a long time ago. Maybe he really had become a complete bastard, but the truth was, he rarely found anything he wanted, and he wasn’t going to tolerate anyone’s interfering with his getting it. His gaze returned to the woman playing the drums.
Maia Armstrong intrigued him. It was as simple as that. He’d investigated her, of course. He investigated anyone and everyone who touched his life, or Jase’s. She was the new veterinarian and played in a band in the evenings. She never took a permanent position in any town, but traveled, often filling in for other vets. She had taken the place of the local elderly vet who, because of failing health, had been forced to give up his practice before he could find someone to buy him out. Already, she was popular and very well thought of by everyone who had worked with her.
There were rumors about her. Some said she possessed magic. The majority said mysterious things happened when she was around animals. She managed to save the hopeless and was fast earning a reputation with the ranchers for being able to handle the wildest stock. The rumor persisted that she was able to cast spells, on both animals and men, and Cole was beginning to think there might be some truth to it. He was obsessed with her.
He took a long, slow pull of his beer, never taking his gaze from her. The band was finishing their set. He knew their music now, knew Maia’s habits. He also knew she was very aware of his reputation, both as a lady’s man and as a dangerous felon. She didn’t like gossip, probably because so many people gossiped about her, and he was fairly certain she wouldn’t make a scene when he made his move on her. He calculated the odds, just like he calculated everything in his life.
The drum built to a crashing crescendo, and Maia set her sticks aside and swept back stray tendrils of hair that had escaped from her intricate braid. Her skin was damp, glowing, her smile satisfied. She’d liked the way the music sounded, and it showed in her expression. Maia was never closed off to the world the way he was, and Cole found even that intriguing. He had positioned himself perfectly, making it impossible for her to get to the bar without walking past his table.
Cole caught her wrist as she swept by him, pretending, as she did each night, not to notice him. He shifted in his chair so that she was suddenly wedged between his outstretched legs, imprisoning her. “Have a drink with me.”
Maia could hear her own heart thundering in her ears. Up close he was overpowering. He looked all male, his blue eyes dark with a desire he didn’t try to hide from her. In fact, he wore his sensuality easily, with complete confidence, a devil in blue jeans and sin in his heated gaze. She knew the rumors. She knew what the town suspected Cole of doing. Murder. He’d been in jail. There was a tattoo on his upper arm, which he’d obviously gotten in jail and didn’t bother to try to hide. His body was hard and fit; but sometimes, when he didn’t think anyone was watching, she saw something sad and tragic in his unguarded expression. And that was truly dangerous.
The last thing she wanted to do was to add to the rumors flying around him. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it was to be the favorite subject of the town’s most malicious gossips. He couldn’t possibly have done a third of the evil deeds attributed to him. Maia patted his dark head, a deliberate show of camaraderie for the patrons in the bar. At the same time, she wanted to let him know, very politely, that she wasn’t playing his game. She leaned close to him, put her lips against his ear. “The lady sitting on the barstool to your right is devouring you with her eyes. You have an easy score right there to take care of any urgent . . . er . . . needs you may have.”
Cole felt her warm breath against his ear, the whisper of her lips against his skin. When she leaned into him he inhaled the scent of her. Peaches and rain could be very intoxicating. His fingers around her wrist kept her connected to him. “I want you to have a drink with me.” His voice was huskier than he intended, and her close proximity had more of an effect on him than he’d anticipated. His heart pounded, and he could feel his blood surging hotly through his veins.
Maia sucked in her breath sharply. Cole Steele was used to giving orders, used to having them obeyed, and he certainly knew his effect on women. His voice was almost mesmerizing. She could feel the hard column of his thighs pressing against her legs, as his thumb stroked over her bare skin where he held her arm.
Maia tugged a little on her wrist, not making it obvious to the curious onlookers. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She smiled to take the sting out of her refusal.