Page 6 of Hustle

On one level, all those things were what drew me like a moth to her flame. Even a decade later, even when I’ve sworn that I’ll never let myself get hurt by a woman like her again, it takes every bit of strength I have to honor that promise.

But she’s the kind of X-factor I can’t afford at any level to disrupt my carefully organized life.

The awkward moment is punctuated when Rico slides a pizza and garlic knots in front of us, with a pitcher of diet soda.

“Eat up, kids!”

He doesn’t notice the tension and leaves, whistling to himself.

“You know how much I care about your dad,” Evi says. “He’s really important to me. I’m really sorry, Seamus. I’m just frustrated I’ve been fighting the Stacys for a long time. You know I built that place from the ground up when I had nothing.”

Doesn’t she see that I’m fighting too?

Nodding, I blow out a frustrated breath. That explosive temper always takes me by surprise. Not to mention the reactions it elicits from me.

My world, my demeanor, everything I’m responsible for is predicated on one thing: my ability to stay calm and control my reactions at all times.

A man with as much responsibility as I carry can’t just let loose when he wants to.

“I know, Evelyn. So why didn’t you ask me for help? You know you can count on me.” Her soft hands slide toward mine, as if to reach out, but then she freezes before drawing back.

“I have to do this myself, Seamus.”

Of course she’d say that. She’d look across the table in some shitty diner over cheap pizza, and look at Boston’s most in-demand, Harvard-trained lawyer offering to help solve her problems. And dismiss him out of hand.

That’s Evelyn.Badass, party of one,my brothers used to say. I try not to let my mind wander to the times when I’d thought that maybe, just maybe, we could have been a party of two.

She picks up a piece of pizza. I can’t pry my eyes from her full cherry lips as she takes a full bite. “Goddamn, this is good.”

Pizza’s not on my diet. The Doyles are big men, tall, and I take keeping fit very seriously. My eyes head up to the menu board to the look at the salads, and then back down to the pizza. Evi watches me carefully, like she knows what I’m thinking.

Fine then. Pizza it is.

I take off my suit jacket and roll up the sleeves of my white dress shirt. The dry cleaners will wonder what happened if they see pizza stains—it’s not my usual fare.

But Evi’s right. It’s delicious. The crust is thick enough to support the toppings, but still crispy. The cheese is gooey with just the right amount of salt, and I close my eyes for a minute, enjoying the sauce with its gentle spice. When I open them, Evelyn is staring at me.

She tilts her head, giving me a wicked little smile. There’s something in that look that has me contemplating undoing a button or two, as I’m suddenly hot under the collar.

She reaches a hand up and softly wipes some sauce from the corner of my mouth.

Holding my gaze steadily with those wide gray eyes, she slips her finger into her mouth. The sight, imagining how wet and warm her mouth would be on other things, goes right to my cock.

Jesus Christ.

That’s another reason I can’t trust myself with this one. She radiates a lethal, unself-conscious sex appeal that threatens to unravel my self-control. My wrought-iron, carefully shaped, ever present self-control.

Her finger leaves her mouth, and she slowly traces the shamrock tattoo on my forearm. At her touch, a shiver of anticipation dances across my skin. “You need to eat more pizza, Seamus.”

I won’t let her know the effect she’s having on my body.

“It’s not very healthy,” I say tightly.

Are we even talking about pizza?

Her eyes snap up to mine. “No, I suppose not, but it’s fun. You used to be a lot more fun.”

Her gaze is dangerous. I could lean forward, capture her lips with mine, and show her what fun looks like. But I can’t let her make me lose control. Not again. She needs me cool and collected, even if she likes to see me break.

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