“Hey.”

Honey nearly jumped out of her skin. Heart beating like a jackhammer, she turned around and spied Nash watching her from the other end of the bar. It was two thirty in the morning, and after a long, busy shift, all she wanted was a shot of Jack Daniels chased by a tall, cold draft and some peace and quiet.

“I thought you’d left.” It had been crazy busy, and her boss had pretty much worked the entire night. She grabbed up the bottle of JD and held it in the air. He nodded, and she scooped up two glasses, pouring them each a generous shot as he moved closer.

“I did. Took Hudsy and the boys home.”

Frowning, she looked at him. “Why’d you come back?”

He shrugged. “Thought I’d catch up on some paperwork.”

“At this time of night?”

He ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. “Seemed like a good idea, but not feeling it at the moment.”

She watched him for a few seconds. “That’s ’cause you’re tired,” she said, pushing the tumbler over to him.

“Tired?”

“Hell yeah. All that flirting.”

“Flirting?”

Honey held up the glass and downed the contents in one gulp. She poured another one. “Jesus, Nash. Are you hard of hearing?”

He moved closer, and the shadows played across his face, giving him an edge he so didn’t need. The man was way too handsome for his own good. His hair glistened beneath the dim lights, and a slow grin touched his mouth as he raised his glass. He knew it too. His dark eyes regarded her in silence, and for a weird moment, Honey couldn’t breathe. She looked away, mouth dry.

What. The. Hell.

“I didn’t know you were paying such close attention.”

Okay. She breathed out. She was fine. “It’s kind of hard to miss when ninety percent of the women in here fall all over themselves trying to get you to notice them.” Honey turned back to Nash as he bent over and grabbed a couple of cold beers from the fridge. She couldn’t help it—she was only human after all—her eyes touched every single inch of his gorgeous jean-clad butt. He could seriously model the damn things, which, for some reason irritated the hell out of her.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he said with a wink. “I’d say it was closer to eighty percent.”

“Whatever the number, those women are pathetic.” She made a face, wishing her tongue would stay put and shut the hell up.

“They’re just looking for a connection. You can’t fault them for that.”

She shook her head. “They’re looking for sex.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

She accepted the offered bottle and leaned against the bar, letting the quiet wash over her. Her neck was tight, she was tired and cranky and hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days. She didn’t want to think about Nash doing the horizontal dance. And maybe she should think about that. Why did she care? God. She needed to get laid. Maybe that would pull her out of the funk that had settled over her like a shroud.

She grimaced at the thought, and her mind wandered to Hudson Blackwell. They’d chatted several times tonight. He’d been friendly and seemed like a good guy. Which sucked. It was so much easier to dislike a douchebag. She wanted Hudson to be a douchebag. She wanted all the Blackwells to be douchebags. And none of that seemed to be true.

“You want to tell me what’s bothering you?” Nash’s quiet words turned her head again, and she regarded him carefully. He didn’t miss a thing.

“You want to tell me why you didn’t go home with Jade Daniels?”

“I will, if you tell me what’s up with you.” He grinned and tipped the bottle back, taking a long drink before setting it down on the bar. She did the same.

A strange sort of electricity charged the air, and suddenly, the hair on the back of Honey’s neck stood on end. Something was up. Something had changed. She didn’t know what that something was, but it sure as hell had her attention now. Nash Booker was the kind of man most sane women should avoid at all costs. “Should” being the key word.

“You go first.” She leaned against the bar and unclipped her hair. The relief was immediate, and she barely stopped the groan that sat at the back of her throat. His eyes darkened, and he made no effort to look away as she ran her hands along her scalp, shaking out the thick, loose waves. He shoved his hands into his front pockets, shrugged, and then surprised her by answering her question.

“Jade expected me to go home with her tonight. I don’t do well with that kind of thing.”

She studied him for a few seconds. “Is this a control thing? Or don’t you like sleepovers.”

Nash seemed to consider his answer. “We had a casual thing going. I was upfront about that. Casual implies a lack of expectation. Once that changes, things get complicated, and I don’t do complicated.”

“You don’t do relationships.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

“No, I don’t do complicated. Trust me, anything other than casual with Jade Daniels is going to be complicated.”

“So,” she said watching him closely. “When’s the last time you were in a relationship?”

He laughed. “You really want to get into that?”

She found herself smiling in return. “I do.” She wouldn’t admit it to anyone other than herself, but she was curious. Nash wasn’t exactly an open book, and she had a feeling the face he showed the world was the face he wanted them to see. Not the face that existed beneath the flesh.

Nash rolled his shoulders, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. But he surprised her. He cleared his throat and looked her straight in the eye.

“Ten years ago.” His words were quiet. Carefully spoken. And Honey knew enough about reading people to know there was a story there. But maybe it wasn’t one she wanted to hear. “What about you?” he asked.

Shit. She picked at an invisible piece of lint on her wrist and shrugged. “Never.”

His surprise was obvious. “That’s not what I expected to hear.”

She didn’t want to talk about her lack of intimacy and commitment because it scared the holy crap out of her. She was damaged. She knew that. But she’d always hoped that things would change. That maybe one day, she would find love in a world that had taught her love was a four-letter word for hurt.

Yeah. That dream still lingered at the back of her mind.

“I should go,” she said, taking a step back.

“We’re not done.” Nash moved closer, cutting her off. “What’s up with you? You’ve been weird since Thanksgiving. Even Hudson thought you were intense.”

“He said that?” She cleared her throat, thoughts swirling. “What else did he say about me?”

Nash’s eyes flattened, and he frowned. “What do you care?”

“I don’t.” But she answered too quickly, and his expression changed.

“He’s married to my friend, and he has a kid, which means he’s off-limits.” The warning that carried those words was hard to miss, and instantly, Honey’s hackles rose. She took a step forward.

“If you’re implying that I’m interested in a married man, you can go to hell, Booker. That is a line I would never cross.” Her voice surged, and the adrenaline that pumped through her body left her shaking.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Nash closed the distance between them. He looked down at her. “Sorry I read it wrong. But Hudson and Becca are like family to me, so if I think someone is gunning for them, I get in their face.”

Silence filled the room, and the energy that permeated the air made it hard for Honey to think straight. She’d been on an emotional roller coaster for days. She wanted to push Nash away. Tell him to get the hell out of her space. But she didn’t. She stood there like an idiot, inhaling a seductive scent that was all him. A scent that infiltrated her pores and slid over her skin like a caress.

Something happened—a something that hadn’t happened in a long while. Desire, thick and hot, shot through her—a sharp jolt of it that settled in her belly and spread lower. Her nipples suddenly stood at attention, and she was very much aware of the painful yet delicious reaction.

Nash’s voice slid over her, a hint of seduction coloring his words, making her toes curl. “You never answered my question. What’s up?”

After a few moments, she shrugged and decided to fend off any more questions with something that would deflect the reality of her situation. She said the first thing that came to mind, which wasn’t a good thing.

“It’s been a while.”

His eyebrow shot up at that. “Since?”

He was going to make this hard. Of course he was. “Since I washed my hair. What do you think?”

Okay. This entire conversation had taken a complete one-eighty. She needed to nip this in the bud. And fast.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you want.”

His smiled deepened. “Just out of curiosity. What kind of man are you looking for?” His grin reached an epic level of wickedness. “You know, for the hair-washing thing.”

You.

Where the hell had that come from? Honey slowly exhaled, her nostrils flaring as a fresh wave of Nash infiltrated her body. Holy mother of God. Wrong thing to do.

“Who says I’m looking?” she replied haltingly. “There are other ways to get a…a good scalp massage.”

“What if you’ve run out of batteries?” Was that a wink? He was having as much fun with this as Honey. “For the scalp massage thingy.”

She hid a smile. “Then I might have to go looking for the real deal.”

“What qualifications does this real deal need?”

She took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed with sensation and thought and feeling a whole bunch of things she wasn’t ready to deal with. For a lot of reasons. One, the man standing in front of her—the one who had her lady parts singing Halle-freaking-lujah—was her boss. Any kind of interaction between the two of them had to remain strictly professional. Anything else would lead to trouble, and she didn’t have time for trouble. Especially the kind of trouble that could lose her, her job.

She needed to be in Crystal Lake for as long as it took to do what it was she’d come here for.

And secondly? She squeezed her eyes shut. Christ, who was she kidding? She couldn’t think straight enough to come up with another reason other than the one screaming in her left ear. The one saying, this man is danger, and you’d best get out of his way.

“Short,” she managed to say clearly.

“What was that?” His voice was lower, and the alarm bells ringing inside her head picked up steam.

“Short.” She gave herself a mental shake. “I like short men.”

“Really.” He inched closer.

She nodded. “Balding and a bit of a gut.”

A half smile touched his face, and he patted his flat stomach. “Damn.”

“Maybe a bit of an overbite.”

His smile widened, revealing even white teeth that would make any dentist proud.

Exhilarated, she squared her shoulders, suddenly enjoying the game. “And glasses.”

His eyebrows shot up at that. “Big thick ones?”

Again, she nodded. “Goggles.”

“Big hands, though?”

“What?” Her mind was buzzing, and she didn’t follow.

“Well, for the hair washing and all. You’d want someone with big hands.”

“Of course.” Jeez. Could she sound any more like a fifteen-year-old on her first date?

“Sounds nothing like me.” He paused and flashed that grin again. “Except for the big hands.”

Was it the Jack Daniels that loosened her tongue? The beer she’d downed right after? Or the lack of sleep that had been plaguing her for days? Whatever it was, she didn’t dwell on it. She looked up into Nash Booker’s eyes and licked her lips, practically tasting him on her skin.

“No. Nothing at all like you.”

He pouted like a kid, and she struggled not to cross her legs and alleviate some of the pressure there.

“That makes me sad.”

“Somehow I doubt it.” She licked her lips, a reaction to just how close he was now. Hell, she could count his lashes. See the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Smell that intoxicating maleness.

“It does,” Nash continued, bending forward.

Honey inhaled sharply and wanted to look away, but, mouth dry, she couldn’t do anything other than stare up at him helplessly.

“Why’s that?” she managed to ask, glad she could get the words out.

That wicked grin touched his lips once more, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away if her life depended on it. She closed her eyes when his warmth caressed the skin beneath her ear, and little shivers of need rolled over her. She felt his mouth, a whisper away from her skin, and an image flashed behind her eyes. Naked limbs. Straining muscles. That delicious butt thrusting slow and steady.

Her eyes flew open, and she stared at the ceiling as he whispered, “I was thinking I might kiss you.”

Could he hear her heart? Sense her need?

“That would be a bad idea,” she managed to reply, slowly pulling back so she could see his face. Which was the wrong thing to do, because Nash Booker made no effort to hide the naked desire that sat there.

He reached up and grabbed a long tendril of hair, twisting it between his fingers, though his gaze never left her. “Because I’m not a short, balding man with a beer gut?”

“Yes,” she replied, mind racing and surprised at her thoughts. She wanted this.

He slid his fingers along each side of her cheek. “But I do have the hands.” His long fingers buried themselves in the hair at her nape as he gently pulled her forward. “That has to count for something.”

His mouth was near hers, and the heat from his body slid over her like a warm caress. Her fingers splayed across his chest, and she felt his heart beating as rapidly as hers.

“No strings,” she whispered. “Just sex.”

“Now you’re talking my language.” She felt his erection against her stomach, and suddenly, her knees were weak. She’d not been intimate since before she’d come to Crystal Lake, and that had been months ago. The need to connect to another human pushed her forward, though her mind still had doubts. She could have sex with any of the men who came into the bar. Why was she focused on Nash?

“It’s still a bad idea.” She was finding it hard to concentrate.

His mouth slid to the corner of hers. “True. But I think we can handle it. Though I’ll leave that to you to decide.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” she murmured, the ache between her legs intensifying.

“Not really,” he replied, moving his mouth slightly and nipping her skin. “I know this is going to happen.”

She slid her hands up to his shoulders and pressed her body against him. She didn’t say a word, because there was no point. She wasn’t in control. For a woman used to driving the train, so to speak, the feeling wasn’t something she was used to. Honey would regret this, there was no doubt about that. But for whatever reason, she didn’t care.

Nash was right. This was going to happen.