Page 4 of Elite Metal: Warriors

He could fuck her six ways to Sunday. Reporter or not. The only hard part would be walking away.

He gave her the once-over, pretending surprise. “Really? You don’t look the type.”

“Haven’t you learned not to judge a waitress by her cover?”

Interesting choice of words, but Sterling didn’t comment on it. At this point, his best tactic was to play dumb. If she was what he suspected, and she thought he was one of the men she was hunting, she might try to draw him in.

And he would let her.

He flashed his trademark grin. One that had women falling into bed. “So are you a bad girl? Underneath those pigtails?”

Her expression hardened, but she covered it with a flutter of her lashes. “Maybe.”

“I’d love to find out…how naughty you are.”

“I’ll bet you would,” she murmured.

“What time do you get off?”

The smile she sent him was wicked indeed. “I dunno. That would be up to you, I guess.”

Her meaning was undeniable. His cock understood it immediately; it perked up like a meerkat on the Serengeti. And damn, he wished this weren’t what it was. He wished, for just one night, he could be Steve and she could be Candy. And they could fuck like bunnies.

“But my shift ends at two.”

Sterling checked his watch and she chuckled. And then her focus locked on his wrist. She stroked the face of his G-Shock. “Nice watch,” she said. He could see the wheels turning in her head. She flicked a look at him. “Are you ex-military?”

Because a waitress would know what kinds of watches special ops guys preferred.

He took a draw on his beer and glanced away, feigning a disinclination to talk about it. He could tell, somehow he just knew, tipping too early would set off her alarms. They were alike, the two of them, predators in their own way. He had to appreciate that about her. “Yeah.”

“What branch?”

“I was a Marine.” He shrugged. “But that was a long time ago.”

She leaned against the bar and smiled up at him. He nearly came out of his skin when she raked her fingers through his hair. It was long now, down to his shoulders, hardly the buzz cut he’d had way back when. Her touch was like an electric shock. “You don’t look like a marine.”

“Like I said. A long time ago.”

“What do you do now?”

He shrugged. “I ride.”

“Is that all?”

“What else is there?” He glanced at her name tag, though he didn’t need to, and added in a sultry tone, “Candy.”

She shivered and touched the metal plate with her fake name inscribed on it. Her lips tweaked. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

“Do I?”

“What’s your name?” A whisper.

Sterling stared down at her. Damn, if she wasn’t good. If he hadn’t been tipped off to her identity, he might have believed she was really interested. He might have taken her out back just now and fucked her silly against the wall of the bar. The bathroom would have worked too. A man with less insight would have been completely fooled. He wasn’t fooled. And he wasn’t giving her his name.

He held out his hand. “I’m Steve.”

Her palm scraped against his; he closed his fingers around her and stroked her with his thumb. She shivered. Nice touch. “St-Steve?” Her tongue came out to dab her lips again. There was seduction on every line of her face. “You don’t look like a Steve.”