HELLKAT.

by Robyn Roze.

Keeper.

Keep Her.

Find Her Free Her.

Chain of Title.

Current Project:.

Chain of Title sequel in the works.

My husband is always at the top of the list with his patience, support, and great sense of humor. And he's convinced the heroes in my stories are all modeled after him. See what I mean about his sense of humor? But the man has put up with me for thirty-six years, been married to me for the last twenty-seven of them, and that alone qualifies him as a hero in my book.

My mom and her quirky man, who both literally tell everyone they know about my books every chance they get. Thank you both for believing in me.

A BIG thank you to my beta readers: Arika Collins, Chasity Hindman, Dawn Duhamel-Stanton, Sandy Brandt, and Sara Jean Breaux. Your feedback, support, and patience with all my questions, not to mention re-reads, helped polish the final draft.

And to my CHAIN GANG Street Team, thank you for spreading the word about my books. I appreciate every single one of you more than you know.

To strong women the world over.

And to the men who love them just as they are.

"Life is not a matter of holding good cards, but of playing a poor hand well."

~Robert Louis Stevenson.

"What can I get you?"

The simple, deep-toned question teased like warm velvet along Kat's skin, sent a fiery charge racing up her spine and burned up the chill in her bones from having slogged to the Midtown hotel in a chilly October downpour. Her body flushed with heat; one eyeful of him had her libido in overdrive. His self-assured expression said he knew it, expected it.

She focused on his name tag. You can get me ... naked, Roberto.

"What do you recommend for a business meeting I don't want to attend and hope will end as quickly as possible?"

Was it awful to hope she'd be stood up today?

He flipped the white bar towel over his broad shoulder, braced his sizable hands on the counter, and leaned closer to Kat. He had the confidence of a man well aware of the power and rewards of his panty-dropping good looks.

"I recommend ... Screaming Sex with the Bartender."

Kat's eyes flared. Holy shit! On the inside, she already had him in a Kama Sutra leg lock. On the outside, she remained cool, unaffected.

"Well, as good as Screaming Sex sounds, Roberto, I'm concerned the name oversells it. Promises one thing, delivers something else, leads to customer dissatisfaction," she said, her words laced with sass and seduction.

A sexy-as-hell smile stretched his clean-shaven jaw, and he shook his head. "Can't say I've had any complaints." He shifted closer, his pure male determination palpable, predatory. "I know what I'm doing, lots of practice."

Only two thoughts competed for space in her head: the vacant hotel rooms upstairs; and when did this man clock out? She ignored the heavy humidity squeezing around her as her finger drew slow circles near his hand, almost touching it.

"Why don't you tell me how you do it, Roberto?" A frisky grin curved her lips. "Then I'll tell you if I want it."

She repositioned her hand, dropped a finger down to the corner of her mouth, and brushed the tip in a taunt against her lips.

He tracked the subtle movement, then settled his eyes back on hers and listed the ingredients. "Rum. Vodka. Strawberry schnapps. Cranberry juice and orange juice." His jaw ticked, head cocked. "But I can do it any way you want." His words, his invitation, were smooth like sex on silk sheets.

"Rum and vodka. Big boys." She shook her head, sighed deeply. "I'm not sure I can take a pounding like that right before a business meeting."

The barkeep loosened his tie, yanked at his collar, and rested his forearms on the bar top, encroaching deeper into her personal space, his expression intense.

"After your meeting." He flashed his pearly whites.

He sounded hopeful, wanted to seal the deal. And in another place, another time, she would've tried him on for size in a heartbeat. But those days belonged in the past ...

"I'll think about it." She paused, inched closer. "I may come back later for a stiff one." His eyes dilated and his nostrils flared. She slid back. "How about a cranberry spritzer for now, Roberto?"

He gauged her, rooted to his spot, and then reluctantly nodded as he backed away to prepare her drink.

Oh, his window dressing screamed her type. Took her back to the days at Columbia when she'd torn through men-well, boys really, like they were haute couture on clearance, figuring out what she liked and what she wanted. In the end, she hadn't kept any of them-well, except Dan, sort of ... But she'd matured, a grown woman now, riding the line between thirty-five and forty. Those carefree and sometimes careless days were over.

When the sexy bartender pivoted to move down the bar, Kat admired the sight of his ass hugged in black pants. Too bad reality made a poor substitute for fantasy, at least in her experience. Oh well, she'd had fun flirting while she waited.

Kat shook off the fog of sexual attraction and refocused on the important task at hand.

A list of talking points had landed on her desk earlier in the day before her best friend and business partner, Cassie Porter, had trudged home to starve a cold and feed a fever. The two women wanted to expand their business and had searched for an investor to provide the necessary infusion of capital. A business contact had recommended today's potential financier to Cassie as a real possibility.

Ordinarily, Cassie-the dazzler, the schmoozer extraordinaire-would pitch this portion of the dog-and-pony show. Then Kat, the filter-free, brash half of the duo, would've stepped on stage to talk the language of money, percentages, and profits. No nonsense, all business. Just the way Kat liked it. Cassie had reassured her this meeting amounted to only an initial face-to-face to determine the level of interest, nothing to worry about. Kat's prime directive today: be on her best behavior.

She grumbled to herself, blew a lock of hair away from her face.

Not everyone had Cassie's finesse with people. Oh, Kat could act the part when necessary; she'd received years of expensive training in etiquette and social graces as a reluctant member of the James family. She simply didn't like to act any part. She preferred to stay behind the scenes, use her MBA and IT expertise to run their company. Her forte: computers, numbers, forecasts, and investments-not people. And for those reasons, she and Cassie made ideal business partners. Their professional and interpersonal skills fit seamlessly, like two sides of a coin.

But today, everything flipped upside down.

Kat's agitation grew as she plowed through the contents of her new tote. She hadn't gotten used to the open layout. She liked organization, more compartments. Damn it! Where was that piece of paper? She'd skimmed it at the office; the sheet had the name of the Diamond Industries contact due to arrive any minute. Her lids dropped in aggravation. Cassie would never forget a face, let alone a name!

As her frustration grew, she glanced at the reception area. No one loitered in the posh space. Good. The Diamond Industries rep must've gotten delayed. Time might be on her side today.

As she readied to dump her tote on the bar top, she noticed a man observing her. He tipped his bottle of beer at her, and then took a swig while pushing a napkin around in a tight circle. He set the bottle back on the small white square and tucked a toothpick at one corner of his mouth. He nodded, with a sly expression. Oh, great. He'd probably heard the banter with the bartender and figured her for an easy target now. Whatever. She had bigger problems to fix.

The frantic search in her bag halted as she retraced her steps, watched herself in the past: She'd had the paper in her hand. Dropped it on her desk when a crack of thunder and strike of lightning had startled her. Then she'd grabbed an umbrella ... and had left the talking points on her desk. Her shoulders sank in defeat. Kat shook her head in annoyance. Well, time to call Cassie. Kat dug around in her bag and finally retrieved her phone. Displeasure crinkled her forehead and tightened the line of her mouth. She loved her smartphone, cursed its short battery life.

"I get the feelin' you're havin' a bad day. Can I buy you a drink?"

The man she'd noticed watching her now greeted her with stunning pale blue eyes and a killer smile, his jaw shaded with stubble, his blond hair knotted tight at his neck.

The opposite of her type: tall, dark, and well groomed.

She gave him an unapologetic once-over. He had the height, but he'd dressed for a redneck barbecue. His black T-shirt hung untucked over faded jeans and the worn denim sat bunched on top of haggard, scuffed boots. He didn't even look like he belonged in this bar, mostly frequented by business types and executives.

"No, thanks. I'm waiting for someone," she said, with a curt nod.

"Oh? Boyfriend? Husband?"

Was he messing with her?

He inched closer, towered above her. Broad shoulders, strong arms ...

"Look, I've already ordered a drink and I'm here for a business meeting." She gave him her best get lost look.

"Seems like you might need more than a cranberry spritzer." Unmistakable humor danced in his husky voice.

Yep, just as she'd suspected. He'd overheard the slutty conversation with the bartender. Great. Just great.

He smiled and laughed. The wink of his dimples distracted her.

"Listen, I'm just lookin' for some friendly conversation, that's all. I promise I won't bite," his expression turned devilish, "unless you ask me to."

Something about him plucked a dormant cord deep inside her, teased at some old fuzzy memory ... Unexpected warmth pooled low in her belly.

It ticked her off.

"I'll leave when your mystery person gets here. Scout's honor." The gesture looked ridiculous on a man his size. "And who knows, if we hit it off, I can always stick around until this meeting you're not interested in gets over with," he leaned in, "quickly as possible, for both our sakes." He had the audacity to wink.

Kat shook her head, with an indelicate snort. "Do you make it a habit to eavesdrop? It's kind of rude, you know." Her fingers tapped an impatient beat on the bar top.

He shrugged. "I only eavesdrop on beautiful women." Kat's bullshit detector kicked up a gear. "It's the only damned way a man can really learn anything about a woman."

"Then go back to your seat; you still have a lot to learn." Her head tilted in defiance.

The man erupted in laughter, one wide hand pressed against his clearly fit midsection.

He wagged a finger at her. "Oh, you are somethin' else, darlin'." His voice held a hint of admiration as he sat in the seat next to her, undaunted.

"Really? Darlin'? What cave did you just crawl out of?"

"Love to know your name. Then I wouldn't have to piss you off with a filler."

Kat smirked. "Something tells me you'd still piss me off."

A fizzy drink appeared in front of her. Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick, Roberto, glanced between her and the blond oaf planted beside her. The men fixed their glares on one another. Kat sipped her spritzer and settled in for the National Geographic episode about to play out between the two.

"Listen," he squinted at the name tag, "Robbie, you're gonna get a whole lot more tips if you start spendin' more time with your other customers. I know I for one will be inclined to leave you more green if you just move on outta here." He motioned with a sweeping gesture.

Kat's elbow rested on the bar top, chin perched in her hand, as she stared in utter disbelief at the Neanderthal beside her.

When the bartender turned his attention to another patron asking for a refill, the overly confident man next to her held out his large, calloused hand and introduced himself. "Tucker Williams."

She eyed him for a few seconds. "You've got a lot of nerve," Kat said, without moving to take his hand.

A cocky smile widened his square, scruffy jaw. "So I've been told."

"Apparently, you've mistaken it for a compliment."

Out the corner of her eye, Kat noticed the hostess headed her way. Relief washed over her body. She picked up her bag and beverage in anticipation of starting this damned meeting, and getting away from Tucker Williams.

"I'm sorry, Ms. James, but no one from Diamond Industries has arrived yet. Would you like me to seat you in the restaurant while you wait?"

Kat glanced at her watch. Thirty minutes late.

Tucker turned to the svelte hostess. "Tell you what, why don't you seat Ms. James and I'll keep her company till her appointment gets here."

"That is so not necessary-darlin'."

His grin broadened. "Oh, c'mon. You'll have a lot more fun with me than you will sittin' all by yourself." His eyes glimmered. "You know you will."

Kat gaped at Tucker, and then noticed the gorgeous hostess eyeing him with open appreciation. Really? Kat sighed in frustration. What the hell. If Tucker Williams liked being insulted, she had time to kill. She'd give the Diamond rep another thirty minutes before pulling the plug.

"Apparently, you're a glutton for punishment. If you want more, I can dish it out all day, Mr. Williams."

His quiet scrutiny made her tingle in places she didn't want to right now.

"Oh, I want more, darlin'."

His arrogance and slow-talk grated her nerves, but she couldn't look away, much like seeing a bad accident strewn along the road.

"Whatever," Kat said, with a dismissive wave.

Men put up with some unbelievable shit in the quest to get laid. Poor things. Although, she now questioned why Tucker Williams needed to deal with any of it. Even though he didn't fit her list of demands, she understood how other women might find him appealing. His powerful build, deep voice, and roguish smile undoubtedly pulled women into his orbit; even Kat, begrudgingly, felt the tug. A man like him must have easier targets. Hell, even the leggy hostess appeared enamored as she chatted him up on the way to the table, making Kat follow behind like a third wheel.

However, bringing up the rear had its advantages, like discreetly scanning the mountain of a man in front of her. He had to be over six feet tall; his swagger advertised easy confidence and hinted at sexual prowess. A nice ass peeked out from under the T-shirt too. Oh yeah, she could grab onto that ... Kat huffed and shook off the errant thoughts, reminded herself he was irritating as hell-and not her type.

At the table, Tucker turned chivalrous, motioned for her to slide into the booth first. She eyed him with suspicion, and then seated herself on the opposite side.

"Darren will be serving you today. He'll be right with you."

Kat didn't exist; she'd become the invisible woman. The hostess only had eyes for Tucker, and they lingered on him a bit too long.

Kat made a point of clearing her throat loud and proud. "Think you could run up front and see if the person I'm waiting for has arrived?"