Jade Savini meets Officer Iago deOro on the night he decides to "stake out" her bar. He's looking for the thief who has been stealing and selling guns from the police evidence room. Their intense attraction to one another is the excuse he needs to justify his being in the bar. Not-so-nice cop, Lt. Deke Oliver is Jade's number one suspect.
Will Iago and Jade find the evidence to stop Deke and the extra firepower on the street? Can their fledgling relationship survive the subterfuge and danger?
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“Hey baby, what’s your story?” A tired line, but this time delivered in a graveled voice full of sin-filled nuances guaranteed to make an angel weep. Luckily, Jade Savini wasn’t an angel. Her days of innocence were long behind and far away.
Warm green eyes, the same earthy tone as her name suggested, perused the rugged form of the middle-aged warrior hunched on a stool at her bar. He looked rough and ready for anything and her hormones quirked a brow of interest before she slammed the door on that line of indecent thought.
“Slim, I don’t got a story, I’m the bartender. You’re supposed to tell me yours over your glass of Guinness and that’s that.” She played her voice low and casual, modulating the normal sound to make it fit better with the dark atmosphere of the bar. She’d been cursed with a perky, cheery voice at odds with her personality and lifestyle. Something about her voice, however, caught the warrior’s attention, adding a glint to his eye.
“Slim, eh?” He drawled and her female parts woke up and shivered again, “haven’t been called that since I hit puberty.” This time his words were accompanied by a hot smile full of white even teeth.
Jade wasn’t buying. She polished the dark oak counter, set another draught in front of the thirsty stallion and whisked away the empty glass. From under dark, curling bangs she slanted the alpha male a hot glance of derision and a sneering half-grin before walking to the far side where a group of college boys packed in hooting and catcalling.
Better to ignore him, she advised her suddenly aching body, but she couldn’t entirely. It had been so long since a man took an interest beyond a leer and a quick pick-up line. Her body added an extra bit to her step turning a walk across the bar into a predatory invitation. Youthful jaws dropped and a pair of middle aged fists clenched. She knew because even over the wolf-whistles and music she heard the knuckles and joints pop in concert with his grunt. With practiced ease and a glimmer of seduction, she smiled, “what can I get you boys?”
Across the bar, Detective Iago de Oro watched the green-eyed beauty spin her magic on the under-experienced college set. When his regular snitch told him to watch the green passing through the doors of Fool’s Gold, he surely didn’t think the man was giving justice to the bartender’s eyes. He also hoped, for the snitch’s sake, that he wasn’t being fed a line. Being set up wasn’t too far out of his mind either, given the name of the bar and his own moniker.
Pondering the possibilities, his eyes continued to measure and appraise the woman before him. She had an innate grace, watching her serve drinks was like holding a front row seat at the ballet. She dipped then twirled; side-stepped, raised en pointe and flowed along the counter with the ease of a butterfly pirouetting in the breeze.
Wasn’t much to look at, if you started with the face, but what real man just looked at a face? Her pretty little nose had been broken leaving her looking as if she was caught mid-wrinkle, cute. He liked it - the imperfection gave her character. Dusky skin proudly staked her Italian heritage, but those eyes, luminous and earthy shards of emerald under the thickest sooty lashes, screamed fairy princess. She’s either out of your league, his gut argued, or so deep in shit that her pretty little eyes will never pay her way clean.
He hoped she was clean.