Tall, broad and bald, with a friendly smile, he reminded her of the bartender at her favorite biker bar in Chicago. Perhaps New Mexico wasn’t as far from civilization as Jonas could possibly send her after all.
“Whiskey.”
“Shot or glass?” he asked.
“Glass, no ice.”
“You got it, honey.” He nodded.
Picking up the drink, she turned her back to the bar and once again surveyed the room.
What the hell had convinced her that she could return to the States? No matter how important the job.
Children were her weakness. The plea had come from a former client, to help a friend locate his kidnapped daughter. A little girl no more than five, with big brown eyes and a mischievous smile. Harmony had been insane to agree. She had known Jonas was stalking her for nearly six months now. She should have never returned. Because she knew what he wanted in the end, just as she knew he more than ex-pected her to fail at this chance he had given her to escape Breed Law.
She shook her head at the thought. Her brother had aged more than he should have in the last ten years. The bitterness and cold, hard purpose in his eyes had only grown.
Like her, his French accent had totally evaporated since his escape from the labs, and his English was fluid and flawless. They had been trained to blend in, no matter where they were sent.
As she lifted her drink to her lips and ignored the frankly sexual glances she was receiving, she caught movement at the doorway from the corner of her eye. Turning her head, Harmony watched in appreciation as the thoroughly male form strode into the bar.
Now, she very much doubted this was her tail, though she wouldn’t have minded in the least being his. At least six feet, three inches of broad, muscular male moved with lazy, casual grace.
He was dressed in jeans and a dark blue denim shirt that emphasized the heavily tanned contours of his face. His features were rugged, with high cheekbones, a sensually full lower lip and eyes a deep, navy blue that gleamed with suppressed amusement as he met her gaze. He was taking stock of her as carefully as she was taking stock of him. And it was evident that, as she did, he liked what he saw.
Had she ever so fully noticed a man before? Sexuality fairly screamed off this male, from the bulge in those snug jeans to the wide, muscular width of his shoulders. Shoulder-length, thick, straight black hair flowed around the arrogant features of his face and softened them just enough to make him seem approachable.
Harmony had admitted long ago she wasn’t necessarily a sexual being, despite some of her more animal-like genetics. But this man, he made the feline inside her stand up and roar.
She could feel a strange receptivity flowing through her veins, peaking in her nipples and the suddenly sensitive folds of her pussy.
“Hey, Lance, buddy. ‘Bout time you made it around to see us.” Behind her, the bartender called out a greeting as the cowboy moved to the bar stool beside her. “Beer?”
“Beer works good, Stan,” Lance answered with a slow drawl that had a shiver working up Harmony’s spine.
She loved that voice. It was as smooth and dark as her whiskey.
Turning on the bar stool, Harmony met the bartender’s gaze as she slid her glass forward for a refill.
“I’ll get the lady’s too, Stan.”
Harmony nearly missed the offer, her senses suddenly infused with the scent of midnight storms and dark desert nights. The scent of the male at her side. Strong. Pure. No, this wasn’t her tail, but for just a moment she could imagine him behind her, his hands shaping her rear before sliding against her, nudging her thighs apart.
“Thank you.” She breathed in deeply as she turned her head, keeping her smile light, hiding the sharp canines at the side of her mouth.
Hers were smaller than most Breeds’, and rarely noticed for what they were, but flashing them wasn’t something she did often.
“You’re welcome.” The slightly crooked smile he gave her did something to the pit of her stomach. It fluttered. Hell, she had never had anything either on or in her body flutter in her entire life.
“My name’s Harmony.” She stuck her hand out, tilting her head to get a better look at his face.
“Lance.” He nodded, extending his hand, his large, calloused palm engulfing her fingers.
The feel of his flesh against hers startled her. She could feel her hand sensitizing, her fingers tingling. Heat, unlike anything she knew, flowed from a simple handshake, from his body to hers.
Harmony’s eyes widened as his narrowed, a small frown creasing his brow as he glanced at their joined hands. Did he feel it? That exchange of heat, of awareness?
“Well, that was odd enough.” His smile was still lazy, but his gaze had sharpened with sensual awareness.
“Wasn’t it?” Harmony cleared her throat as she brushed the long strands of her newly colored hair back from her face. She liked the soft dark russet tone of the color. It gave an added emphasis to her pale green eyes and dark brows.
The camouflage was a nice addition. Her naturally streaked hair was a dead giveaway to her Breed genetics. The mix of black, browns and golden ambers would have been instantly noticed.
“I haven’t seen you around. Are you visiting relatives?” he asked.
“Not really.” She shook her head as she turned back to him. “I’m just passing through.”
She wished. Yet somehow she had a feeling it would not serve her purposes to allow this man to know she would be here for long.
“That’s too bad.” The regret shimmered in the air between them.
“Yes, it is.” Harmony inhaled deeply, certain she could become addicted to his scent if she weren’t extremely careful.
“So you’re just here for the night?” He picked up the chilled bottle of beer as he voiced the question, his gaze darkening, his intent to seduce clear.
“Just for the night.” Harmony nodded slowly.
“Alone?”
She hesitated as she met his gaze.
“I was.”
She watched as he set the beer back on the bar, his eyes never leaving hers, holding her captive with a deep blue fire.
“I could be dangerous,” he murmured then, his voice lowering to a near whisper as his eyes flirted with her shamelessly. “A stalker. An axe murderer. Once you left here with me, you would be in my clutches.”
“Or you could be in mine,” she whispered back, just as playfully.
“I would count myself lucky.”
Harmony stilled the laughter rising in her throat at the outrageous comment. Laughter wasn’t something she was used to, yet this man seemed to inspire it within moments of meeting him.
Ducking her head, Harmony fought to hide the smile trembling on her lips as she lifted her glass once again and took a fortifying sip of her drink.
“Second thoughts?” he asked.
Harmony lifted her head, swallowing tightly as she considered fighting the attraction. Perhaps for a second.
“I never have second thoughts,” she finally assured him. “You?”
“Never.” Male confidence surged through his expression. “Would you like to dance?”
“I would love to.” She finished her drink before gathering her courage and laying her hand in his.
Lance took the young woman’s hand, once again feeling the surge of sensation that traveled from his palm to hers. He’d had no intention of coming into the bar tonight. Tomorrow’s meeting with Jonas Wyatt, the head of the Bureau of Breed Affairs, would require all the patience he could muster. Which meant all the rest he could steal tonight.
Instead, the closer he had come to Stan’s Last Rest, the bar at the edge of town, the more imperative the whispered warnings in the air around him had become. They hadn’t screamed or moaned, and in them he hadn’t heard secrets, as his grandfather often did. But he heard the demand. Just as he heard the feminine call resounding through his soul.