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  “Eh,” another one said. “My Tricia’s the same way. No cops. No firemen. Probably wouldn’t want her dating one of these young guys, anyway.”

  So Natalie’s father was a police officer, as were the men she was drinking with. Retired, he was guessing. He smiled. She was smart. Old cops kept their noses in their old precincts. If she wanted sources for stories, these men would know who to ask. Plus, it was evident she had a genuine affection for them. Then he frowned. They were also, evidently, worried about her.

  He heard her leaving the restroom, her step already familiar to his ears. He subtly moved into her path, letting her brush up against him and spill his drink.

  “Oh my gosh!” she said, looking up with an embarrassed smile. “How clumsy am I? I’m so sorry. Let me get you another one.”

  He looked down at her, more intrigued by the minute. Her scent was distracting, a mix of salt, honey, and the jasmine that grew around her house. “It’s fine. Sorry I didn’t see you.”

  “No, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” She looked down at his black suit. “It got all over you, too.” She pulled him toward the bar. “Hold on, I have some napkins here…” She dug into her familiar purse and brought out a stack of brown napkins he recognized from a local coffee chain. “I always take too many when I get coffee, but I keep them ’cause you never know, right?”

  He tried not to laugh as the man named Marty spotted them.

  “Nat, you mess up the guy’s suit? You gotta stop trying to run men over. A simple hello works.”

  “Hey, shut it.” She slapped the old man’s arm as she dabbed at the spot of vodka and tonic water on his chest. “Poor guy was just trying to watch the game and I ran into him. I’m so sorry,” she said again.

  He cocked his head, amused at her fussing. “It’s fine, really.”

  “This was probably just dry-cleaned, right?” She did the nose-wrinkling thing she’d done in the car the other night. “You look very… well-pressed.”

  “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not.”

  She laughed, a pleasant sound that he decided he wanted to hear more often. “It is! Just ’cause I hang out with these jokers doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a man in a nice suit,” she said with a wink.

  “Hey,” another one of the old men spoke. “You wear a suit when you’re dead.”

  “Or you work in a cubicle,” Marty said.

  “Same thing,” Baojia added, and all the men laughed.

  “Natalie, I like this guy.” One of the old cops slapped his shoulder. “Sit down and let our girlwaslet our here buy you a drink.”

  “Oh thanks for offering.” Natalie turned to Baojia and said, “Sorry for the peanut gallery. Join me for a drink? It’s the le

  ast I can do since I messed up your suit.”

  He smiled. This was far easier than he’d expected.

  “I’d love to.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  You look well-pressed? Are you kidding, Natalie?

  She mentally kicked herself. First, she ran into the incredibly attractive man who’d been sitting at the end of the bar, then she spilled his drink, then she started dabbing what was probably a thousand-dollar suit with cheap coffeehouse napkins and calling him “well-pressed.”

  She really needed to get out more.

  Natalie was beginning to think Kristy’s assertions that hanging with “the old guys” did not, in fact, constitute a social life might be right. Still, Incredibly Attractive Suit was smiling at her, so that was something. He hadn’t run screaming from Marty and Howard, either. And he was gorgeous. Black, black hair and brown eyes you could fall into and never find your way out. You wouldn’t want to. He was taller than her, but not by much. She’d put him at five ten or eleven, maybe. And his body… Well, if the suit made the man, then this suit—nice as it was—didn’t have much work to do, in her opinion. The man was all there.

  He said, “I’d love to.”

  “Love to what?” She blinked, coming out of a daze. Was her hand still on the front of his chest? Yes. Yes, it was. She pulled back and mentally cursed when she realized her hand had been resting on his muscles like she was grabbing a new toy. She could already feel the blush staining her cheeks. Damn her pale skin. Now Attractive Suit was looking at her like she was crazy.

  “You asked me to join you for a drink.”

  “Yes.” She shook her head a little and smiled, motioning to an empty stool at the bar. “I did. What were you drinking?”

  “A vodka tonic.”

  She held a hand up to grab Connie’s attention. “So, I make it a point to know the names of everyone I drink with. What’s yours?”

  Natalie noticed the slight hesitation before he said, “George.”

  Liar.

  “George, huh?” She only smiled and sat down next to him. “I totally pegged you for a ‘George.’ Come on, is that really your name?”

  He shrugged and leaned an arm on the bar, angling his body toward hers. “My given name is Chinese and really hard to pronounce. So I go by George.”

  “Chinese, huh? Are you from China originally? What part?” She finally caught Connie’s attention. “Hey, can I get a Grey Goose and tonic?”

  “Sure thing, honey.” The middle-aged woman turned to mix the drink. Connie didn’t put up with crap, and she treated her regulars right. George-who-wasn’t-George would get a good drink.

  She turned to see him giving her a look. Natalie shrugged. “Was that right? You look like you have premium tastes. I guessed.”

  “You guessed correctly.”

  “I’m smart like that.” She sipped the beer Marty handed down to her. Luckily, the guys were keeping their opinions to themselves, for once. Their attention had turned to the game. She glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry. You were watching the game. You don’t actually have to talk to me.”

  “I thought you were smart,” he said. She narrowed her eyes, but he looked like he was about to laugh. “You seem far more interesting than a baseball game.”

  Smooth. That was almost too smooth. Almost.

  “Thanks, George. Same to you.” She took another sip of beer.

  “And what is your name?”

  “Natalie.”

  “Natalie, it’s nice to meet you. Do you come here much?”

  She couldn’t stop the snort. Okay, maybe not so smooth. “Um… yeah.”

  “Sorry.” He had the grace to look embarrassed and shook his head. “That sounded like a bad line, didn’t it? I’m genuinely curious, though. It’s my first time here. Is it always so…” He looked around. “Diverse?”

  She nodded. “Mostly. More younger kids on the weekends, but during the week, it’s a pretty regular crowd. Connie and her sister have owned this place forever. They’ve pretty much kept it the same. I know the decor’s a little dated, but the glasses are clean and the company’s good.”

  “Something tells me you don’t much care about the decor.”

  “No.” Then she tried her best for a flirtatious look. “Not that you don’t class up the place in that suit, George.”

  It must have worked, because he leaned a little closer. “Class can be overrated. And I don’t have any complaints about the decor, not with you sitting there.”

  “Is that so?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was actually flirting back. Maybe her luck with guys was changing.

  Connie brought his drink and he took a sip, raising his eyebrows a little when he tasted it. “She certainly doesn’t pour light. Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  Natalie laughed. “Maybe? I haven’t decided yet.”

  “I’m on to you now, Natalie.”

  “Damn. There goes my dastardly plan to take advantage of you.” She wanted to bite her lip as soon as she said it. Too soon!

  George’s smile dropped and a distinct, hungry look came to his eyes. “Where would be the fun in that?”

  She blinked in surprise.

  His smile returned, but this time, it ha
d a slightly wicked edge. “I’d much prefer to be sober when you take advantage of me.”

  Okay, maybe not too soon.

  Natalie could feel herself blushing again, but she ignored it. “Well, you’re certainly not shy.”

  “Neither are you, despite that rather attractive blush.” His voice was a little lower, a little rougher. Natalie squirmed in her seat. Was she actually getting turned on by a complete stranger in a bar with the Padres playing in the background?

  A shout rose from all corners, providing a much-needed distraction.

  “Damn that ump!”

  “Frickin’ blind is what he is.”

  “If that was a strike, then call me Bunny.”

  “Get me a beer, Bunny.”

  The shout and the annoyed muttering broke the tension that had been building and Natalie sat up in her seat a little, taking another drink of her beer. “You a Padres fan?”

  He smiled like he knew exactly what she was doing. “I’d be a fool to admit otherwise in this crowd.”

  “Tell you a secret?”

  George leaned closer. “Please Cer.ise in .”

  “Oakland A’s.”

  He pulled away. “Blasphemy.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t tell anyone or my life is forfeit.”

  He sipped his drink again, tracing his finger around the rim of the glass. Her eyes were playing tricks on her, because it almost looked like the ice in his glass followed the path of his finger. She shook her head. No more beer, Nat.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, staring at his drink.

  “Of course. I’m very trustworthy.” As long as you’re not a dirty politician or a bad cop.

  His dark eyes focused on hers. It was ludicrous to say a spark jumped between them. No, it was more like… a pull. She wanted to lean closer, so she did.

  “Giants.”

  Natalie gasped. “That’s worse than me!”

  “You hold my life in your hands.”

  “I do.” She took another drink. “Great blackmail material.”

  “I should have known. It’s always the pretty ones who are the most vicious.”

  She laughed. “So, what do you do, George-who-isn’t-George?”

  “Other than run into pretty girls at bars?”

  “You’re being nice. I ran into you.”

  “Maybe I bumped into you on purpose.” His dark eyes danced and his smile took her breath away for a moment. “And I’m in private security work.”

  “Really? Mysterious.”

  “Not nearly as much as it sounds.” He shrugged. “Mostly for clubs and other businesses. Casinos. Things like that.”

  “So, your own business?”

  “No, my boss is in LA.”

  “Ah.”

  “But I live here. Well, have lived here for the past three years or so. I’ll probably be moving back to LA eventually.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “What do you do?”

  Natalie smiled to herself. “I’m a reporter. A crime reporter for the Tribune.”

  “So you make those lurid headlines they blast over the front page?”

  “Ha!” She shook her head, pleased he hadn’t recoiled like many men did. Reporters didn’t exactly have the best reputation, especially among those in any kind of law enforcement or security work. If her dad hadn’t been a cop, the guys at the end of the bar would never have even given her the time of day. “No, it’s someone else’s job to do headlines. I just write the stories.”

  “A writer, huh?” He looked thoughtful. “Hard job. Dangerous?”

  “It has its moments.” She shrugged. “But it’s very rewarding. I’m working on a story right now about some girls out in the desert who were murdered. It’s kind of like the Juarez case. Are you familiar with it?”

  He turned serious and the mood shifted. “Sure I am.”

  She took another long drink of her beer. “It’s not as bad as Juarez. Not yet, anyway. I’m hoping to coordinate with some colleagues on the other side of the border. Find out what’s going on before it gets worse.”

  “Is that a good idea?” His smile had fled. “To go looking into that? What about the police?”

  “Clueless.” She shook her head. “Not clueless, exactly. It’s just that it’s happening in multiple jurisdictions. Multiple countries, even. There’s so much protocol and paperwork Cnd ueless, they have to do. Journalists have more freedom than police in some cases.”

  He put his hand on her arm and she felt a tingling sensation where his fingers touched. “Natalie, do you really think you should—”

  “You know…” She pulled her arm away immediately. “I get this funny feeling you’re going to be really presumptuous and say my work is too dangerous. Maybe that I should leave it to law enforcement and find something else to occupy my pretty head?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You weren’t going to do that, were you, George?”

  “Nat—”

  “Because you seem like a smart guy, but you don’t know me well enough to have an opinion about what I can and can’t do.”

  “I wasn’t—” He stopped himself and there was a long pause. “I was. You’re right. I don’t know you well enough to make assumptions.”

  “Thank you for not being an ass.”

  “You’re welcome.” He didn’t sound happy about it, though. That was fine. Far more important people in her life had problems with her chosen career and she ignored them, too.

  “Need help?” He raised an eyebrow. “Security work, remember? You need a bodyguard?”

  Her heart sped as she imagined all the ways she’d be happy to have him guard her body. And there went the blush again. “It’s not really—I mean, I don’t need a bodyguard. Thanks.”

  “No harm in offering.”

  “You—” Natalie cleared her throat but couldn’t hide the smile. “How did you get started in security? Are you from LA?”

  He let out some sound that was amused and irritated all at the same time. Interesting.

  “No.” He did the thing with his finger on the glass again. And again, it looked like the ice followed it. It had to be a trick of the light. “No, I’m from San Francisco. Well, I was born in China, but lived most of my life in the US. My boss hired me in San Francisco. Trained me. Put me to work in his business. He does international work too, so having someone who speaks as many languages as I do is useful.”

  “You don’t have an accent.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t consider myself Chinese. I became a citizen long ago.”

  Natalie laughed. “Well, not that long ago.” He couldn’t have been any older than her. In fact, if it wasn’t for the serious expression and knowing gaze, she’d say he was younger.

  “I’m older than I look.” He slid closer. “I just have one of those faces. And how did you become a reporter? Did you always want to be?”

  She pulled back a little and took a sip of beer. “Yeah. Ever since I was a teenager. I grew up in Oakland. Went to journalism school at UCLA.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Yeah. Moved down to San Diego for work. But I like it. You?”

  He gave a rueful laugh. “Some nights I miss LA. Other times…” He looked at her. “I don’t.”

  “I miss Northern California.” She frowned. Why had she told him that?

  George blinked, obviously surprised. “I do, too.”

  “Do you have family?”

  He looked confused. “What?”

  “In San Francisco?” She cleared her throat. “My dad still lives in Oakland, but we’re not close.”

  “I… I do have family there, but I’m the same way. We’re not close.”

  “Just a couple of strangers in a str Cgertheange land, then.” She squinted out the windows of the bar. “It’s so bright here. I miss fog sometimes. Miss the smell of the ocean. It smells like the ocean here, but not the right way. That probably doesn’t make much sense.”

  He was looking at her, his mouth hanging open a
little. “That makes complete sense.”

  Natalie shrugged, feeling strangely exposed.

  “May I call on you?”

  “Uh…” She almost spit out the beer she’d been drinking. “Call on me?”

  “Call. Call you. I’d like to see you again, if you would like.”

  And there was the blush again. Damn automatic reaction. Curse her Scottish ancestors and their milky-pale skin. “I’d… Sure. You can call me.” She tried not to be flustered as she reached for her mobile in her purse. George leaned away as soon as he saw it. “Why don’t we just exchange phones? I’d… like your number, too.”

  “I can give you my phone number, but I don’t have a mobile.”

  She frowned. “Don’t have a mobile what?”

  “Phone.” He looked amused. “A mobile phone.”

  Natalie blinked, confused. “Y…you don’t have a mobile phone?”

  George smiled. “Nope.”

  “Are you… a time traveler? Alien?” She shot him a crooked smile. “Unexpectedly hitching a ride in a blue police call box?”

  He burst into laughter. Thank God he was a Doctor Who fan. “No. I just don’t have one. Landline only, I’m afraid.”

  “But your work… How do you get by without one for work?” She clutched her iPhone like it might run away into the attractive, phone-less man’s hands. “Mine is practically glued to me.”

  “I can see that.” He was still laughing. “It’s probably because of work. Mobile phones are unsecured lines. Anyone can listen to your phone calls if they know what they’re doing. People store too much sensitive information on them. Especially smart phones.”

  “Paranoid much?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not paranoia if they’re actually after you, Natalie.”

  She tried not to smile. “You know… you’re kinda weird.”

  For some reason, that was really amusing to him. “I’ve been told that before.” He laughed, and something about his smile, the angle of his head, jostled her memory.

  You’re kinda weird.

  You have no idea.

  “Natalie!” Kristy called her name from the door. She’d almost forgotten she was supposed to meet her friend for the movie later. “What are you—Oh, hi there.” Kristy’s eyes bugged out when she saw George. “Hi. You’re not Marty.”