Chapter 1

Chapter

One

H er jeans fit her like a warm hug. The perky redhead with the curvaceous figure was stretched out across the pool table, lining up an important shot.

John Hampton bumped his long-time friend and partner, Ethan McDaniel.

“I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on that,” he said, smiling.

Mac followed his gaze. “My guess is it isn’t just your hands.”

John chuckled. “True enough. I wonder what she’d do if I just sauntered over there and casually caressed her backside.”

“Knowing Mandy, she’d break that pool cue over your head and shove the wrong end up your ass,” Isabella Baez, the owner of the steakhouse, said. “I run a respectable place, Marshal Hampton. You behave yourself.”

Like Isabella’s brother, both John and Mac were in the United States Marshal’s service. They were just returning from an arduous assignment, bringing back a federal fugitive from Canada. What should have been a simple fly up to Canada, spend the night, pick up the fugitive, and return him to federal custody had become much more complex.

Izzy waved the two exhausted lawmen to a table with a bird's-eye view of the bar, where Mandy was making mincemeat out of her opponent and having the time of her life doing it.

“I don’t know that I like the look of that guy,” John said, indicating her adversary.

“Agreed.” Mac nodded. “He doesn’t like getting beat, especially by a pretty girl.”

“She’s not giving him much of a way to save face. If she doesn’t know all the people in here, she might want to rethink her behavior.”

“Or maybe not, and you could go rescue her, then point out the error of her ways when she’s face down over your knee.”

John chuckled, quickly appreciative of the idea.

“You’ve had worse ideas. You have to admit, that’s a glorious ass. I wouldn’t mind painting it red before taking it in my hands to mount her.”

Mac laughed. “Jesus, who put your quarter in and wound you up?”

“What can I say… it’s been a while.”

Mamacita’s Steakhouse and Tavern was a popular spot for families and those on a casual date. The Tavern side had pool tables and dartboards, and there was usually a live country band. Because of Isabella’s casual connection with law enforcement, it was frequented by cops—both local and federal—and the military.

“You boys look exhausted,” Izzy said. “The usual?” Both men grinned. “Right. Why do I even bother to ask? Medium rare rib-eye for Mac with a Guinness draught and sirloin rare for John and a Killian’s Irish Red.”

“Sounds great,” said Mac.

“Thanks, Izzy,” added John.

Their table was angled, so both men had their backs to the wall. There was something about the guy playing pool with the woman Izzy had called Mandy that didn’t sit right. Not that it was a hardship to keep his eye on the girl who laughed unselfconsciously. John could hear the sound of her laughter over the low din in the building.

Their drinks arrived, and John nodded toward the redhead. “She’s playing way beneath her skill level.”

Mac looked up, “What makes you say that.”

Both men had honed their powers of observation throughout their years of service.

“She’s missing obvious shots, then making ones that are more difficult.”

Stretching to make a shot, her jeans framed, from his vantage, an ass to die for. Even at this distance and not knowing anything about her, John could feel his cock coming to life as he imagined getting to know her on a far more intimate level than he had any right to assume.

John had long ago accepted he was a dominant male and expected when it came time to settle down, he would find a woman who would consent to his authority and answer to him. He wasn’t looking for a true submissive. Any woman married to a US Marshall had to be strong enough to deal with life on her own sometimes and understand all plans were subject to the needs of the service and the inherent danger of the work he did.

“Think she needs rescuing?” Mac asked casually.

“Might,” said John.

“Well, don’t let me keep you. She’s more your type than mine.”

Knowing Mac liked his women taller, leaner, and preferably blonde, the voluptuous auburn beauty was most definitely not his type.

“She’s safe enough. Besides, I’m too tired.”

Mac laughed. “When have you ever been too tired to go charging in to save the damsel in distress?”

Izzy brought them their steaks.

“So, Iz,” said Mac, “what do you know about the redhead who has John’s attention?”

“That’s Mandy Adams.” She smiled. “She works for Willa Reynolds. You know, the gal who does the gourmet packing trips. I’m surprised Willa isn’t with her. The two of them usually take great enjoyment out of pool sharking any unsuspecting assholes, like Chaz there. I think he earned Mandy’s ire, treating the wait staff so poorly. Willa’s good with a stick, but Mandy’s better. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her miss a shot unless she intended to.”

“What’s she drinking?” asked John.

“Killian’s is her usual drink of choice.”

“If she likes her steak rare, I could be in love,” he said with a grin.

“Then you’re out of luck,” said Izzy. “She likes her steaks medium with no red.” Izzy left them to take Mandy the proffered drink.

“Not to sound like a completely inappropriate jerk,” John said, lowering his voice, “but for an ass like that, I could live with overcooked meat.”

John grinned at Mac as his buddy tried desperately not to spit his beer across the table. It wasn’t the kind of comment John normally made about a woman, but he was beginning to think that Mandy might be something special.

M andy was leaning against her custom pool cue, watching Chaz—who thought the world owed him a living because he’d graduated law school—try to figure out his next move. Hiding her smile, she wondered if he had yet to figure out, he’d been suckered. Mandy had been baiting him since happy hour started. Before working with Willa, Mandy had worked for a law firm, where she had grown to detest attorneys fresh out of school. They were arrogant beyond belief and generally didn’t know their ass from a hole in the ground,

She’d been playing him slowly, reeling him in, winning just enough not to be obvious but losing enough, so his confidence was high. There was now twenty-five hundred dollars sitting on the table. When Chaz stepped up to break, the result hadn’t been pretty. She planned to run the table and take his money.

“Mandy?” said Izzy, offering her a Killian’s.

“I’m trying to focus,” griped Chaz.

Mandy smiled at Izzy, taking the drink.

“From a regular at the table in the back corner,” Izzy said, nodding toward John and Mac.

“How very gallant of him. I think my buddy Chaz could stand to take a few lessons in manners from him.”

Mandy took the long-neck bottle and tipped it toward her benefactor, who returned the gesture. The clunk of the cue ball hitting its mark let Mandy know Chaz had just missed the shot he was trying to make.

Handing the bottle to Izzy, she said, “Hold this for me, will you? I won’t be but a minute.”

Chalking her cue, Mandy stepped up to the table and cleared it, her movements clean, efficient, and her aim deadly.

“Hey! You suckered me!” cried Chaz.

Mandy retrieved her bottle and quipped, “Yep.”

“You can’t do that,” he snarled.

Mandy stepped into his personal space.

“Oh, but I can. Fact is, I just did. They really should teach you in law school, not to play against people with a custom-made cue.” She laughed derisively. “I wish all my marks were as pathetic as you.” She picked up the cash on the lip of the table and counted out fifteen hundred dollars, tossing the remainder on the table before turning to Izzy. “Do me a favor and split that with everyone who had to deal with this asshole, will you?”

Chaz was fuming and made a grab for the remaining money sitting on the table. Before he could wrap his fingers around it, Mandy brought her pool cue down hard to rap his knuckles with a resounding crack. Chaz jerked his hand back.

“That’s my money,” he seethed.

“Not anymore,” she said blithely, but with steel in her tone. “It was your money, then you thought you’d hustle one of the local country girls. Hot news flash for you, junior, that’s a sucker play when I’m the girl in question. I hope you lawyer better than you play pool because you suck. You lost, and I decided to compensate the wait staff, who’ve had to put up with you and your grubby hands and piss poor attitude. Let me give you a little piece of advice, in case you ever have the misfortune to cross my path again… you play grab-ass with me, and I’ll shove this pool cue so far up your ass, you’ll think twice before ever doing it again… with any woman. Now, fuck off.”

She turned her back and went to the case made for her custom stick. She broke down the cue, wiped it off, and put it away, closing the lid before she picked up her ale.

“Listen, you,” Chaz started but was cut short.

Mandy turned to see a tall drink of water holding Chaz up, so his toes barely touched the ground. Mandy recognized him as the man who’d paid for her drink.

Chaz struggled but couldn’t get away from the heavily muscled man’s grip. Mandy was about to tell him Chaz was making a fist.

“You don’t want to do that, son,” he drawled. “I heard the lady say you were a lawyer. If that’s true, I won’t need to explain to you the ramifications of assaulting a federal officer.”

All the fight when out of Chaz.

“Now,” continued the hunky guy, who still dangled Chaz from his strong grip, “you apologize to the lady for being an asshole and go sleep it off. If I hear of anything untoward happening to her or that you made any kind of threat, you’ll answer to me.”

“That wouldn’t be a federal crime,” Chaz whined.

“You’re right, and I’m not inclined to respond to your poor sportsman-like behavior in my official capacity as a US Marshall. In fact, if you’d like to step outside, I’d be happy to hand the bartender my gun and credentials, and we can settle this here and now, without getting blood all over Izzy’s floor.”

Chaz’s buddies intervened and assured the lawman, still holding their friend by the collar of his shirt, Chaz had just had too much to drink, and they’d make sure he got home and didn’t cause any more trouble. Chaz mumbled his apology to Mandy while keeping his eye on the federal officer.

“I don’t think he’ll give you any more trouble, but if he does,”—the man handed her his card—“you give me a call. My cell number is on the back.”

Mandy looked down at the card. “Thanks, Marshal Hampton.”

“John, please.”

“Thanks for the ale.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Mandy. I’d ask you to join me while I finish it, but I’d like to go get this cash in my ATM before it gets too much darker.”

He smiled, and she liked the way it changed the contours of his face.

“I tell you what,” he offered, “why don’t we have that drink, and after, I’ll escort you to the ATM myself.”

“Sounds good.”

“Want to stay in here or go sit in the restaurant? My friend and I just finished dinner, and he’s headed home. I’d be glad to buy you something to go with the ale.”

“No thanks, I ate earlier.”

“Hey, John,” Izzy called. “She’s a sucker for my tres leches cake. Why don’t you buy her dessert?”

“How about a piece of Izzy’s specialty?” John grinned at Mandy. “Best in the whole southwest.”

“Or we could just apply it directly to my hips and ass, which is where it would end up, Iz,” Mandy called to the owner before turning back to John. She was surprised to see him openly appraising her figure. It made her a bit self-conscious as she’d gained a few pounds in the past year and wasn’t feeling as confident about her curves as she normally did.

“I think your figure looks just fine, but once we get to know each other, I’d be happy to slather anything you like all over it.”

“And are we going to get to know each other, John?”

“I sure hope so. Now, are you going to let me buy you that tres leches cake?”

“Only if you’ll split it with me.” Mandy grinned, feeling inordinately comfortable with the marshal.

Over the next couple of hours, John and Mandy split the first one, then a second piece of Izzy’s famous specialty. It really was divine. Finally, both needed to call it an evening. John escorted her outside, and Mandy went to head for her car.

“Mandy,” he said, grasping her upper arm gently, “I thought you wanted to get that cash deposited in your bank account.”

She laughed. “I don’t want you to be bothered. I’ll take it through the drive-through in the morning.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. More than a few people know you have a lot of cash with you. If you don’t feel like walking, we can take my truck, then I’ll drive you back.”

“I’m fine, John. Thanks,” she said, extricating her arm from his.

“It’s not safe, Mandy. Let’s just go to the ATM, and you can deposit it. That way, if anyone’s watching, they’ll see you do it.”

Mandy liked that he was concerned for her safety and kind of liked that he was mildly insistent about it. “And they’ll also see I’m in the company of a US Marshal.”

“I hope you don’t think that’s the worst thing they could think.”

“Not at all, John,” she said, looping her arm through his. “Not at all.”