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in the place was staring at her. The weight of their gazes was tangible. Turning her back to the bartender, Evie scanned the crowd again and noted the pool tables in the far corner. Jackson was leaning over the table to take a shot, but his eyes were on her.
    Evie smiled and leaned back on her elbows. The pose thrust her breasts forward, and she could feel the denim of her skirt inching up her legs to expose even more of her thighs. The five inch heels of her impulse buy, black, Jessica Simpson stilettos made her feet ache, but even the brief glance in the mirror before she’d left the house had told her that they made her legs look amazing. As Jackson’s gaze traveled over her body, she knew that he thought so too. She could feel his appreciation. With a smile, she rose to her full height and crossed the bar to the pool tables.
    “Hello, stranger,” she said, stroking her hand along the scarred wood of the table’s rails.
    “Hello, yourself,” he replied, smoothly. “Slumming?”
    She smiled, turning her attention toward Jackson’s opponent. Reed Harrison was a prominent attorney in town, but from a working class background. He smiled at her and offered her a wink. She laughed and looked back at Jackson, “So who’s winning?”
    “I would say it’s definitely me,” he responded.
    Reed snorted from the other end of the table. “I’ve kicked your ass at this game.”
    Jackson’s eyes never left Evie’s as he said, “Who the hell is talking about the game?”
    Evie stepped closer to Jackson and closed her hand around the cue he held. Idly she stroked her fingers up and down the polished wood, “It looks pretty complicated. Maybe you could give me a lesson?”
    Jackson chuckled, “Think you can bend over in that skirt?”
    Evie looked over her shoulder at Reed, “I can trust you to be a gentleman and not take a peek, can’t I, Reed?”
    He cleared his throat nervously, “Well, of course. Absolutely.”
    “Rack ‘em, Reed,” Jackson said.
    While Reed saw to that task, Jackson led Evie to the head of the table. He placed the cue in her hands, positioning her fingers around the stick. “Hold it firmly but not tightly, let it glide between your fingers.”
    Evie knew he was not talking about the game. “Soft hands and a gentle touch?”
    Reed swallowed convulsively at the other end of the table. “I need a beer. An ice cold beer.... Maybe I ought to get you all some too.”
    Evie smiled, “It’s definitely hot in here, but I don’t think a beer is what I need to cool me down.”
    “Beer. A whole bucket of it. Maybe on ice,” Reed muttered, as he walked away.
    Jackson chuckled, his breath ruffling her hair and skittering over the delicate shell of her ear. “You’re a natural at this bad girl business,” he said. “You’ve got poor Reed so hot and bothered he’s all but twitching.”
    “That’s nice. How hot and bothered are you?”
    Jackson pressed his hips against the lush curve of her ass. His cock was rock hard and pulsing behind the straining fly of his jeans. “Burning up, darlin’. But that only makes it sweeter.”
    Turning “So what does a girl have to do exactly to pick up the much sought after Jackson Cope?”
    Jackson helped her line up the shot, “You’re doing a damn good job of it without any inside info.”
    Evie arched her spine, thrusting her bottom against Jackson’s crotch, as she let the cue slide forward between her fingers, sending the other balls scattering across the tables felted surface. “Is that so? You know, Jackson, I’m a pretty good pool player, already. I don’t need any lessons there.”
    Jackson surveyed the table top, “I’d say that’s true. All you have to do to get us out of here, Evie, is show everyone in this bar how much you want me.”
    Evie laid the cue on the table and turned so that she stood in the circle of Jackson’s arms. In her stilettos, they stood eye to eye and their bodies were perfectly aligned. “How do I do