"That doesn't really answer my question, now does it?" Why didn't he want to narrow it down? "What do you do for a living, Tucker?"

His mouth twitched, lids narrowed. He appeared uncomfortable for the first time, and his attention drifted away from her for a few seconds. He seemed to be making a decision.

"Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that," he said with a shrug, swinging his eyes back to hers.

Her tight expression indicated displeasure with his answer.

"I see. You're homeless and unemployed."

He burst out laughing.

"Oh no, I wouldn't say that. No, no, no. Far from it."

"But that's as close as I'm going to get to an answer, right?"

He swallowed and wet his lips. "Somethin' like that ... for now."

Their stare down continued, as each tried to read the unspoken dialogue abundant in the fiery sparks ricocheting between them.

Darren interrupted the contest.

"Can I bring you anything else? Dinner menus, perhaps?"

One corner of Tucker's mouth lifted in a knowing grin. "Yeah, Darren, why don't you go grab us some menus. And I think my date's changed her mind about that drink too." He tilted his head at the full tumbler. "Doesn't suit her much." His eyes locked onto hers. "Too fruity. Why don't you bring her somethin' else to go with the dinner we're gonna have." Darren nodded and left. Tucker raised his chin in an open challenge, lobbed the ball in her court.

Should she call his bluff? Walk away?

Would he let her?

It pissed her off knowing she'd be disappointed if he did. Damn him! And damn those parts of her that wanted to try him on for size. He definitely brought out the worst in her.

She angled closer to Tucker and answered with a sultry dare of her own. "I certainly hope I can find something that will fill me up. I'd hate to leave here disappointed."

Tucker's body rippled in silent laughter. Then he eased his hulking form across the table, an attempt to unsettle her. She didn't budge, and his smile grew even wider.

"Oh, you won't leave here disappointed, darlin'." He edged closer, lowered his voice. "You'll be filled up. You can count on it."

Tucker had excused himself to take yet another call. Every time he'd left the table, Kat had watched his fine ass swagger away, as had other ogling females. Now, like the interruptions before, he'd managed to find a location in the restaurant where he could keep a watchful eye on her. She wondered if he wanted to block her path, prevent her escape. She sighed in frustration. Why the hell couldn't his calls go to voicemail? And why did he have to leave to answer them?

She closed her eyes, pinched at the bridge of her nose, and rewound the evening. They'd talked and bickered and laughed over dinner. He'd claimed to be single-no surprise. What woman could put up with his cocky, overly confident ass on a daily basis?

He'd revealed his former status as an army brat, which had shed some light on his comment from earlier. But she still couldn't get a satisfactory answer as to how he made a living. She'd managed to pin him down on owning a horse ranch in Montana he'd be leaving New York soon to get back to. Nothing substantive. His vagueness had left her exasperated, and even more curious.

Why?

How much information did she need beyond his marital status and the impatient throb between her legs? She only wanted to go off the rails with him for one night anyway. And the fact that he lived so far away seemed like a lucky bonus. She'd never see him again after tonight, if she followed through with the lust fueling her body.

Even if her body didn't make the trip, her brain would.

Sharp images of them naked, sweaty, and satisfied competed for space in her head. She groaned to herself, shifted in the booth, and squeezed her thighs together to ease the ache. Going without a man for so long had left her at a distinct disadvantage now. Thanks a lot, Dan. She silently cursed him and his feelings, his list of demands, and, now cursed herself for cutting him off cold turkey months ago.

The bedside drawer full of toys at home paled in comparison to the hint of sin she'd seen in Tucker's eyes, had heard in the tease and caress of his deep, rumbling voice. Desire tickled her flesh, but irritation percolated in her belly. How had she let someone like him get under her skin? Kat James did not go for this kind of man-never had, with his tied-back hair, ratty jeans, and old cowboy boots.

Cowboy boots, for crying out loud! She huffed at the absurdity.

She'd graduated summa cum laude from Columbia University and had become a successful businesswoman. She ran in a completely different circle than Tucker Williams.

With fingertips pressed against her temples, Kat grumbled under her breath. The man clearly got a kick out of pissing her off. And his laid-back style and idiomatic penchant for dropping the G off the end of random words bugged her. And his arrogance! Oh my God-limitless!

So why the hell did she feel so turned on?

His dimpled smile?

His rugged face?

The idea of something different?

Her back straightened. Maybe that's what this was about. Maybe she just wanted a change ...?

She exhaled a long, head-clearing breath and then ticked through the list of why-nots in her head: redneck, cowboy boots, uneducated, long hair, unshaven, cocky, and annoying as hell. Not to mention his irritating use of darlin'.

"Sorry about that, darlin', won't happen again. Turned the damn thing off this time," he said as he climbed back into the booth.

Kat stared at him, fingers drumming the table.

"What's with the toothpick?"

He'd had one in his mouth off and on the entire time. Now he rolled it across his lips, corner to corner, and back again. She couldn't take her eyes off the fluid, subtle movement, couldn't stop the reel in her head of his lips and tongue rolling across her, working their magic ...

His unnatural silence yanked her from the provocative reverie. The gleam in his eyes and tilt of his head announced he'd be happy to oblige her fantasy.

A bloom of heat colored her cheeks. Oh great, he had her blushing again too.

"Well, Williams?" Those two words escaped with a breathy lilt she hadn't intended.

He pulled the toothpick out, snapped it in half, and tossed it on his empty plate. She hadn't missed the trace of his grin.

"I had a nasty habit when I was a kid. Someone back home helped me stop, told me toothpicks wouldn't send me to an early grave."

Kat's face scrunched in disapproval. "You were a smoker?"

"A long time ago. When I was a teenager and some into my twenties. But that's been at least fifteen years."

"And you still need those?" She pointed at the broken sliver of wood.

"Yeah, I do." He scooted his plate out of the way, planted his arms on the table, and leaned toward Kat like he had a dark secret to impart. "I have a very serious oral fixation."

The air in Kat's lungs emptied in one puff.

That was it.

Decision made.

"Can I interest either of you in a dessert menu or coffee this evening?"

Kat beat Tucker to the punch, held him in her decisive stare. "No. What I want isn't on the menu."

Tucker's face darkened with hunger, warned of the debauchery ahead.

"Um, okay, then. I'll just bring the check."

Zeroed in on Kat, Tucker gave his final order. "Make it fast, Darren. Double-time."

The waiter nodded and rushed away.

"You really have a room in this five-star hotel, Tucker?"

"Sure do, darlin'," he said, with a sly smile.

She leaned closer. "If you don't stop calling me darlin', you're going to that room without me. Got it?"

He appeared to stifle a chuckle, then he nodded in compromise.

As soon as Darren returned with the bill, Tucker stood and pushed a wad of cash into the waiter's hand without looking at the total, telling him to keep the extra, with a hearty slap on the back. He moved to Kat's side of the table, towered above her, hand held out. This time she took it. His strong grip and skin-to-skin contact sent a charge of energy zipping through her, landing with precision between her thighs. She stumbled up against his hard wall of a body. When she looked up, he had a victory smile.

Damn him!

With her hand engulfed in his, he placed his other at her lower back, the heat from his palm like a brand through the fabric of her dress, causing her skin to sizzle in need as he guided her through the restaurant. Their determined march parted the bustle of bodies in the lobby and hotel reception area along the path headed toward the golden bank of elevators. Tucker pushed a button, then faced Kat, his thumb caressing her hand. He angled back against the marble tiled wall, rested a boot up against the glossy surface, and pulled her between his long legs. He drew her closer for a kiss, but she resisted, backed away as an elevator pinged its availability. She shot him a coy smile, released his hand, and entered the now-empty car with her bad boy in tow as if tethered to her.

After making the floor selection, he moved with clear purpose toward her. She shook her head in warning, determination written on her face. Tucker chuckled, stepped back, and rested against his side of the elevator, his hands sliding into his front pockets.

"You seriously gonna fight me on everything?"

"Pretty much." The twinkle in her eyes answered the spark in his.

He pressed his lips together and smiled.

"You are a hellcat. No doubt about it." He wet his lips and shook his head in contemplation as his eyes raked over her body.

Kat folded her arms in front of herself. "And I suppose you think you're just the man to tame me."

He seemed to consider it as he scrutinized her.

"Wouldn't want you tame, sweetheart. Where's the fun in that? Now, trying to tame you ... well, that's a whole different story. That's where the real fun is." His eyes darkened with hunger. "And it's gonna be worth every scratch down my back."

Kat's eyes widened with excitement, body throbbed with need, from the images his brazen talk elicited. She took a slow, deep breath to center herself. The bell chimed, and Tucker gestured for her to step out ahead of him. He grasped her hand, brushed his thumb over her knuckles, and led her down the hall. Her heart sped up in apprehension, second thoughts. He seemed to sense her uncertainty and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, smiled in reassurance, as they rounded a corner. He pulled the key card from his back pocket, dropped it in the slot, and then pushed open the heavy door.

Once inside, Kat tossed her bag on a nearby sofa. Doubts extinguished, she grabbed Tucker's shirt and yanked him down hard, kissed him even harder. His lips curved into a smile against hers. His fingers roamed up her back, pulled down the zipper on her dress, and then his rough hands slid inside, lit her skin on fire with their firm touch. They stepped, circled, teetered, and ended up against a wall in a mad rush of hormones and heat.

She undid the knot of hair at his neck, pushed away from their hungry kiss, and watched the blond strands fall into place, frame his rugged features. She admired the man in front of her, in all his wild glory. And he seemed to be feeding off her obvious approval.

Holy hell! Why had she ever thought this wouldn't be sexy?

She brushed away the stray strands hiding the sharp angles of his face. Then her hands tunneled through his hair and she pulled his mouth down to hers. His strong arms molded around her, hands trailed down to her backside, gripping it with command, before sinking further to grasp the hem of her dress to glide it up and over the swell of her hips. He stroked between her legs, pressed the black lace against her sensitive flesh, enflamed her, drenched her in heavy desire and wanton need. He groaned into her mouth when his fingers slid into her wet heat, and then circled and curled inside her, finding and teasing the sweet spot that drove her crazy.

As she spun closer to the edge of bliss, Kat pulled back. She wasn't about to let him off this easy. He needed to work harder for it. She'd gone without a man long enough that a ten-minute game of slap and tickle wasn't going to cut it. Hell, she needed this night to hold her over for a while. So she filled her head with any unsexy thing to divert the runaway train from barreling off the cliff.

Without warning, Tucker's skilled fingers released her and he sighed against her lips. He breathed hotly next to her ear. "Really gonna fight me on this too, sweetheart?" His tongue outlined the shell of her ear, then he bit at the lobe, dragged his teeth across the tender fold before his lips settled on and sucked hard at the sensitive spot just below her ear. She struggled against him and the damned hickey she knew would be evident in the morning. However, the wild moan that ripped from her throat contradicted the fight in her body.

"I get the feelin' we're gonna fight all night about who's gonna be on top." His throaty tone felt like the tease of sandpaper brushed across her flesh. A needy whimper escaped her trembling lips. Tucker cocked his head, the moonlight shading his expression of supreme confidence. "Looks like I'm gonna need to break you, sweetheart-just temporarily, of course." He dropped down, kissed her hard, then stepped back and pulled off his T-shirt, tossing it across the room.

Kat gasped. Holy hell! What did he do to get a body like that? Hers hummed with longing from the sight of him and his feral expression, the promise of a long night ahead. He surprised her, caught her midgawk, and ripped off her skimpy panties. Before she could protest, he dropped to his knees, hooked her legs over his shoulders, and gave her no time to think about anything other than the proximity of his lips to hers.

Kat stretched across the cool surface of the wall, her hands splayed against it for balance as Tucker positioned her, held her, on his broad shoulders. She gasped at the feel of his mouth on her, then filled the room with her needy pleas, howls, curses, and prayers as she rocked against him. Sweet salvation drew nearer, then she shouted her overdue release like a call to prayer, ending in a deep, shuddering breath.

When Kat's feet eventually touched the floor, her wobbly knees supported her boneless frame against the wall. She attempted to regain some authority over her body and allowed Tucker to peel her dress off over her head. He wasted no time unclasping her bra and pulling it off her fevered flesh. He groaned when he stepped back to look at her in nothing but her lacy-banded thigh-highs and heels.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he said, his whisper rough and soaked with need. Then he came at her hard and fast, gripped her face, and pulled her up for a blazing kiss tasting of her own sweet arousal.

Kat mapped his strong back and snaked around to his front, fingers reading his body like a Braille tablet. She moaned. Oh God, he was so hard-everywhere. Making quick work of his belt buckle, she dropped his jeans and grasped his perfect ass in her greedy hands, pulled him closer, rubbed his erection even tighter against her. Sliding her hand into his trunks, she stroked his hard length, eliciting his grateful moans of encouragement. Her heart thundered with anticipation.

"You better damn well have a glove, Tucker." Her desperate whisper sounded more like a warning.

His chuckle rippled against her skin. Out of thin air, he ripped the top off a foil packet with his teeth and spit the strip out over his shoulder. He gave her a challenging look. "Who's gonna be on top, sweetheart?"

She considered the open-ended question. The slew of graphic, indecent possibilities streamed in full color as she memorized every detail of his raw masculinity: the sharp angles, the corded muscles, the sprinkling of hair across his chest leading down to that part of him to which no battery-operated boyfriend could ever compare. She made her decision, her expression resolute.

"We're doing it right here," she said, her command punctuated with a slap of her palms against the wall. "No fighting that way."

Tucker licked the smile on his lips, sheathed himself, then easily lifted Kat, sliding her further up the wall, level with him. "Oh, there's gonna be fightin', all right. You can count on it. You're not gettin' away that fast, sweetheart."

In one fluid movement, he dropped her down and drove home, filled her as they both tensed, groaned, and adjusted to the powerful sensations. Tucker fisted a hand in her hair, held her tight, forced her to look at him. "I don't need much lead time, so we'll be takin' turns on top after this."

"Oh, just shut the hell up, Tucker," she said, with a moan, before silencing him with a kiss.

Tucker flipped on the bathroom light, leaving the door open a crack; he wanted to see her sprawled across the bed in all her soft, curvy, bed-hog glory. Sound asleep on her back and snoring softly, a tangle of hair, shadows, sheets, and pillows lay tumbled around his now-docile hellcat. His gut warmed, spreading the heavy heat in every direction as the day's events recapped in his head. Addicted already and needing a fix, he reached out to touch her, but changed his mind, afraid she might wake, and leave.

He already knew their accidental meeting fell under life's heading of "the right place at the right time," and he did not want to squander his good fortune. Tucker Williams had never felt luckier in his entire life than he did at this moment, this crossroad. He'd always prided himself on reading people and, above all, knowing himself. Those two things alone had gotten him this far, and successfully. He hoped like hell it would be enough this time.

This woman was different. Smart as hell, independent-complete, a force to be reckoned with, and she would not take a back seat to anyone. Some men might not like that, but he did. As a matter of fact, he couldn't seem to get enough, had baited and provoked her right to the edge from the second he'd walked up to her. Whereas some might find her smart-ass comments and cool demeanor off-putting, he saw it all as a challenge. One he wanted to rise to, wanted to take and not let go.

One he wanted to be worthy of.

One certainty stuck in his mind when it came to the woman now stretching languidly under his watchful eyes: to get past her barriers, he'd have to meet her head on, as an equal. After the last twelve hours with her, he suspected most men in her past had tried to change her in some way, tried to control her. Fools, all of them. Muted moonlight skipped across his grin. Thank God for fools.

Dragging a hand over his whiskered face, he relived the feel of her tender curves squirming and naked underneath him. They'd taken plenty of turns on top, and she'd loved topping him. No doubt about it; she was a wild woman, a true hellcat. The memory of her riding him like a bucking bronco, free of all inhibitions, spread an indulgent smile across his face. He grew hard again just thinking about it. He couldn't wake her, though; the clock glared an ungodly hour, a workday. He dropped his head into his hands as he sat hunched on the edge of the bed.