I picked up my beer and managed to catch Coco’s attention long enough to incline my head toward the pool tables. She winked to let me know she understood.

I followed behind my new acquaintance and noticed that his fancy shoes looked brand new as if he’d just pulled them from a box. He was definitely a spiffy and polished man.

There was an open pool table at the rear of the room. Benches and side tables had been set up along the stained plaster walls to accommodate spectators and people waiting for the next open table. One obscurely placed table sat in the darkest corner. Someone with an impressive shoulder span was sitting at the table with a pitcher of beer. Not wanting to stare, I didn’t look long enough to see the person clearly. Two other men, early twenties at the most and dressed in off-the-rack business suits with ties removed and collars unbuttoned, sat on the closest bench watching us with interest.

“I think those people were waiting for this table,” I commented as Derek pulled a cue stick off the wall rack and handed it to me.

He tossed only a cursory glance at the two men sitting on the bench.

“They were, but when I saw you walk in, I decided I wanted to invite you to play.” He looked boldly down at my snug fitting jeans. “Something told me, watching you bend low over a pool table would make this whole Saturday night just that much better. So, I passed them a twenty to let me have the table.”

I bristled at the inane attempt at flirting or dirty talk or whatever the heck the jerk was attempting. And his arrogance at passing around money to get what he wanted made me think, again, of David. Another unlikable trait.

“What are we playing for?” I asked coldly.

Derek rolled his jaw back and forth in thought. “I was hoping we could get creative. If you win, I’ll buy you dinner. And if I win, I’ll still buy you dinner, but then you’ll come to my place for a drink and whatever.”

My hand shot out with the cue stick. “Nope, don’t like those stakes at all. Find someone else to play with.”

He forced a laugh. “Just kidding. Really. Let’s play. No bet. We’ll just get to know each other over a friendly game of pool. I can even give you some pointers. I’m really good at making sure your body and aim are just right.”

I stared at him for a second. “Rack ‘em. I’ll break.” I headed to the cue rack for a piece of chalk and rubbed it on the tip like a pro.

My sudden confidence seemed to throw him off guard a bit. He stood frozen to the spot for a second before circling around to the end of the table to rack the balls.

“This should be interesting,” a deep and somewhat familiar voice rolled out from the shadowy corner table.

I turned that direction.

The man at the table leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. It was him. It was the biker. He’d removed his padded leather motorcycle jacket. My question about where the shoulders ended and the jacket began was answered. It had been all man under the leather. His black shirt was stretched to capacity over a massive chest. The less than wholesome neck tattoos that I’d glimpsed above the collar of his coat were only the start of a myriad of ink art that covered both his arms. The dim glow of light from the pool area illuminated his face just enough for me to see it clearly. He was extraordinarily handsome in that dangerous, antihero sort of way.

“What are you referring to?” I asked, trying to quickly regain the composure I’d lost at seeing him.

“Referring to?” he laughed. “I like the way you talk, library lady. Bet it sounds especially hot over a pillow.”

The tiny cube of chalk I’d been grinding ridiculously hard on the tip of my cue stick rolled from my fingers and bounced across the floor, landing, naturally, right in front of his big black motorcycle boots.

“Emmie, let’s get started,” Derek said with a scowl shot in the direction of our shadow lurking spectator.

“Be right there.” I looked toward the corner table and the rogue piece of chalk. “Would you mind pushing that back this direction? And try not to pulverize it with those monstrous looking boots.”

He stared down at the chalk.

“Emmie, they’re ready to break,” Derek huffed.

The biker lifted his face. Something about the artificial lighting in the room made some of his tattoos look as if they were vibrating with life. “If I kick it that direction, then I won’t have the pleasure of watching you walk over here in those skin tight jeans. A big improvement from the dress, by the way. Knew you were hiding something incredible under all that fabric.”

I stared down at the chalk and considered leaving it right where it lay. Unfortunately, I was one of those pathetic nerds who, if I sharpened a pencil and some errant shavings fell next to the trash can instead of inside of it, I’d drop to my knees to pick up each piece, no matter how small.

Derek was getting hot under his designer shirt collar while he waited for me, but my attention wasn’t on my pool partner. It was on the giant filling up the dark corner of the pool hall with his cocky grin tilting up the side of his moustache and brown eyes that, I hated to admit, had me slightly mesmerized.

I lifted my chin. If he wanted a show, then I was going to damn well give it to him. I swayed my hips and strode toward him. As expected, he stared at me, not missing one swing of my hips. I looked down at him for a long moment, bent down to the floor to pick up the chalk and then turned around directly in front of him. The magic jeans were giving me all kinds of confidence and I had no idea why, except that I felt pretty darn good in them.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. His gaze was riveted to my bottom. I cleared my throat. He lifted his dark brown eyes to my face.

“Was it all you anticipated?” I asked.

“More than you know, sweetheart.” His expression softened some and something about the way he was looking at me made my throat tighten. For the briefest second, I felt as if I was looking at the man who could steal my heart and keep it forever.

I dragged my gaze from his and faced the pool table. Derek looked about ready to walk.

“Are we playing or are you going to waste time with ‘easy rider’ over there?”

“Well, Emmie,” the biker spoke from behind. The way he said my name, with his whiskey toned voice, made my body flush with rosy warmth. “Are you gonna play?”

I sashayed to the table and added a little more sway to my hips just to give him another look. I stood behind the table end. I shot a quick, sharp glance at Derek, then leaned confidently over the table and shattered the neatly arranged triangle of balls.