7 #3
at him. Long straight light brown hair hung over her shoulders. Not styled the way Glory preferred, but he supposed there
was a certain appeal to the unkempt look. Her dark eyes took his measure.
Fine. He checked her out, too.
“Mind if I join you?”
Rude, to slide into the booth without an invitation. “And if I do?”
“Guess I’d have to convince you.”
Reviled by the prospect, Mike indicated the seat she’d already taken. “By all means, make yourself comfortable.”
“Already did.” Laughing, she noted, “You sure are uptight. Whiskey not helping?”
“I don’t look to alcohol to solve my problems.” He had a brain for that. “Is that what you’re hoping to do?” He glanced at
her drink—thankfully not a beer—and lifted his brows. “Are you hoping to unwind . . . ?”
“Shara,” she said, supplying her name, and even reaching over the table to offer a small hand, her long nails painted a glaring
red.
Never would he give this woman his actual name. “Leon,” he said, bringing back the alias he’d used once before, when it was
necessary to hide his real name.
With this woman, he’d be Leon again.
Her hand felt rough, making him wonder at her occupation. Glory’s skin was always soft, pampered, and never would she paint
her nails such a garish color.
“Actually,” Shara said, “I found out a guy I liked has hooked up with someone else. Pisses me off, you know?”
The crude language annoyed him. “I’m sure it’s his loss.”
Her glossy lips curled. “I thought maybe I’d retaliate. Have my own fling and then tell him about it.”
Whore. Mike barely kept his revulsion hidden. “I’m dealing with a similar situation, but I won’t sully myself with anyone else.
I love her and that’s what matters.” It had to matter. Eventually, Glory would realize it.
Once before, he’d met a woman he thought would do . . . but she’d let him down. Getting rid of her hadn’t been easy, but he’d
done it. The same way he’d gotten rid of his mother. In this world, he’d discovered that there weren’t many women like his
Glory, a beautiful beacon of gentleness, the perfect counterpoint to his turbulence. Around her, he could find calm moderation.
Away from her, the tempest raged.
Shara’s laugh broke into his thoughts. “Sully yourself? Are you for real?”
Tight with anger, he stared at her until she ended her giggles. “Love is a serious emotion. I assume you don’t actually love
this man or you wouldn’t be offering yourself elsewhere.”
“Love Kam?” she asked. “I certainly loved things about him. I would have married him. Still would, I guess, but—why are you
staring at me like that?” She snapped her fingers in his face. “C’mon, man. You okay?”
Belatedly, Mike remembered to inhale. This foul woman knew Kam? It had to be the same man. Surely, this tiny backward town
didn’t boast two men with that exact uncommon name.
“Excuse me,” he said, taking a moment to sip his drink and quiet his rioting instincts. Patting his mouth with his napkin,
he finally met her gaze. “So Kam is the one you want?”
“Yes,” she purred. “He’s delicious.”
“He sounds like a small man.” Gently leading her, he said, “Probably pale.”
“Ha! You couldn’t be more wrong. He’s over six feet tall, ripped from his work on a tree farm and machine shop. Not at all
pale—not with his brown hair, dark brows and lashes.”
Dreamily, as if she’d slipped into a mental fantasy, Shara smiled. In his head, Mike locked down the details she’s provided:
tree farm, machine shop. If either of those establishments were in the actual town, they’d be easy for him to find. “Whatever
lurid things you’re envisioning are likely best kept to yourself.” Doing his utmost to hide his disgust, he folded his hands
on the booth tabletop. “So who is your Kam seeing now?”
“Some snooty bitch.”
The vicious squeeze of his hands caused his knuckles to pop. How dare this miserable slut insult his Glory? Through his teeth,
he asked, “Have you met her?”
“No, but I’ve seen her. She polishes herself up like a piece of fine china. Never a hair out of place, never a wrinkle in her designer duds. I doubt a woman like her has ever cut loose.”
“Of course, she hasn’t.”
Brows lifted in surprise, Shara stared at him.
He quickly recovered. “That is, I assume by the way you’ve described her that she wouldn’t . . .” How to say it without insulting her? “. . . ah, let down her hair and . . .” At a loss, he gestured to Shara, to her body displayed in an extremely low-cut tank
top. “Do that.”
Knowingly, Shara smiled, then shimmied in her seat.
It caused her fleshy breasts to jiggle. Despite his love of Glory, Mike looked. That was the way of men, and why each needed
his perfect woman.
For him, that was Glory.
Mike assured himself that attraction had nothing to do with it. He was a man. Breasts, by way of nature, appealed to his carnal
nature.
“I think you’re going about this all wrong.” Sitting forward, Mike was ready to put a plan into action. “If this other woman
is as demure as you claim—”
Barking another obnoxious laugh, Shara repeated, “Demure? Damn, dude, where did you come from?”
“Not,” he stated through clenched teeth, “from around here.”
“No kidding. I could tell that right off.”
Again, to hide his identity, he said, “I recently moved here from Canada.”
“Don’t Canadians have an accent?”
“Have you met many?”
“Well . . . no.”
He had doubts that she’d ever stepped outside of this absurd town. “So would you like some excellent advice or not?”
She held out slender arms. “Lay it on me.”
Getting right to the point—his point, that was—Mike said, “Go after him. Make yourself accessible as often as possible. Men are not good at resisting temptation.”
Some men. Men who weren’t truly in love. “He’ll crack, and when he does, this other woman will realize he’s not honorable.
If nothing else, she’ll be out of the picture and that will give you an opening.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It’ll make me look desperate.”
“More likely it’ll flatter him.” Didn’t matter that Kam had acted all cocksure of himself, so full of confidence. All men
suffered weakness of the flesh.
Once Mike had Glory, he’d do better. He had to have her—and he would. Very soon.
Now to manipulate Kam’s weakness. “Look at it this way: You could do it for payback. He spurned you, so egg him on, get him
enticed, and when the other woman catches the two of you, you can spurn him.”
“Spurn him, huh? You do have a funny way of talking, but I get your meaning. I would enjoy a little sweet revenge.”
Yes, Mike thought, revenge would be very sweet. Once Kam showed his true colors, Glory would naturally turn to him for solace.
Once he had her again, he wouldn’t make the same mistake he’d made with Jenn.
He’d never let Glory go.
Until then, he decided that loud and uncouth Shara could be a fount of information. If nothing else, she could tell him where
to find Kam.
Breaking Glory’s window hadn’t frightened her enough to bring her back, but more trouble would come her way. He’d see to it.
When it added up, when she got jumpy and possibly clingy, as all women did, Kam would tire of the drama.
Smiling, Mike lifted his hand to get the attention of the waitress. He’d get a few more drinks for his unexpected and largely unwanted guest. Since she was here, he may as well ensure she was useful.
No reason for her to spend her entire life as a waste of humanity.
In fact, given that most of the town looked to be of very moderate means, there were likely others in her circle that he could
engage. Why should he do the dirty work himself?
As the drink was set before Shara, Mike decided to get her contact info, and to learn more about some of her friends. If,
like her, they were foolish and desperate, he’d have a reliable network set up in no time.