by Helen Lacey
She flipped a long blond curl over one shoulder and then looked directly at him, her eyes now dry. “As a matter of fact, I don’t, but thanks for asking.”
Boy, he was doing worse than the Rockies, who were getting beat up by the Atlanta Braves to the tune of a dozen unanswered runs. “How about we dance instead?”
Jazzy placed her drink back on the table. “No, thanks. I just want to sit here, okay?”
Dean nodded. “Okay, but if you need someone to talk to—”
“You’re a good friend, Dean.” Jazzy leaned in close and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. “But please shut up.”
Doing as he was told, Dean leaned back in his chair, his gaze automatically going to the pretty bartender.
His brother’s words about Shelby played again in his head. There was no way those rumors could be true. Not with the way she’d dismissed him. And why did he even care that she looked at him as if he wasn’t much more than something she needed to scrape off the bottom of her boots?
ISBN: 9781460316832
Copyright © 2013 by Helen Lacey
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