Page 12 of Bombshell (Whiskey Dolls 1)

“Okay, well... enjoy the rest of your evening then. I should get back to my date.” I moved to take a step back only to have his grip grow even tighter, making it possible for me to escape.

“Um...” I looked down at his hands, expecting him to release me now that I’d drawn attention to his hold, but he didn’t. When I lifted my head, my forehead creased in confusion. “You can let me go now,” I said quietly, feeling my cheeks heat as I grew more flustered with each passing second.

It was almost as if he was in a daze. “Pierce?” I called out, trying again to get his attention.

He blinked, giving his head an infinitesimal shake. “Sorry, what?”

“Can you let me go, please?” I’d expected him to release me quickly, but instead, he dragged his palms down my arms, his touch featherlight before disappearing completely once he reached my wrists.

“Of course,” he murmured once his hands were down by his sides. “My apologies. Enjoy your... date.”

“Thanks, I will,” I lied. There was no way in hell I was going to let him in on the fact that it was already a failure, especially not with how he’d all but sneered while saying the worddate.

Without a backward glance, I sidestepped him and started back toward my table.

“Everything okay?” Clark asked once I returned to my seat. “You were in there a while.”

My smile was brittle and forced as I placed my napkin back in my lap. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just ran into someone I knew. Sorry for the hold up.”

“No problem at all. You know, I got to thinking about something else while you were back there.”

“Oh?” I feigned interest as I cut into my salmon and took a bite. “And what was that?”

“Your life insurance policy.” For the second time in one meal, I started to choke and, of course, Clark carried on like it was nothing. “Being a single woman and all, if something were to happen to you, your family would have to cover the costs of a funeral and any unforeseen medical expenses if it happened to be a car accident or something like that. If you haven’t already, you really should look into getting something. Just in case.”

I suddenly had the eerie feeling that I was sitting in the middle of aDatelineepisode. There was a woman in my apartment building, Ms. Weatherby, who was obsessed with that show. She was always warning me about the risks of being a single woman this day and age. The woman was constantly worrying that I’d one day be abducted and stashed away in some maniac’s basement. Thanks to her, I now knew how to break free of my restraints if my potential kidnapper bound my wrists with duct tape. She was going to have a field day when I told her about Clark.

“That’s kind of deep for first date talk, don’t you think?”

He lifted his napkin, dabbing at his mouth before speaking again. “Not particularly. We’re both of an age where we need to be serious about settling down, don’t you think? If I’m going to consider something long term with a woman, I’d like to know what I’m getting into.”

My brows shot up toward my hairline. “And what you need to know is how much I’m worth if I die?”

He cleared his throat and tugged at his collar, chuckling nervously. “Well, when you put it like that it sounds kind of harsh.”

And mildly psychotic, I thought to myself.

“Do you have a basement, Clark?” I blurted, all of Ms. Weatherby’s warnings now floating around, front and center, in my head.

He gave me a quizzical look. “That’s an odd question.”

I slurped back half of my drink. “Yeah, well, you’re already batting a thousand with that so I figured I’d join in. So? Do you?”

“Well... yeah.”

“Sorry, Clark, but this isn’t going to work out.”

6

Pierce

The conversation at my table flowed all around me while I sat there in silence, tuned out as I stared across the expanse of the restaurant. How I hadn’t seen her when she’d walked in was beyond me, but now that I knew she was here I couldn’t make myself pull my eyes off of her.

She had the power to steal my breath on any given day, but seeing her now, all that sunshine hair of hers hanging down her back, her bee stung lips slicked with a tantalizing rosy color, and that goddamndress, my brain had short-circuited.

Even from this distance I could see the pink hew on the apples of her cheeks and couldn’t help but wonder if it was her makeup or a flush from something the jackass sitting across from her had said.

There was a part of me that wanted to be the one to make her blush like that, but more specifically, to be the one to inspect just how far down that kiss of pink went.

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