Meg snickered. “Hon, he’s not here looking at me.”

Judy glanced up and noticed Rick’s intense stare. She finished her beer and signaled the waitress. “The bet is a hundred bucks and a round of drinks.”

“Whatever the lady wants.”

“Another round, Cindy . . . and whatever he’s having.”

Rick waved his beer in the air, leaned back, and crossed his arms over his chest. Too bad this dive didn’t have Dom Pérignon or she’d see if Rick’s wallet could handle her. Not that she’d had a lot of experience with expensive wines . . . well, when she visited her brother there always seemed to be pricy bubbly.

“Anytime you’re ready, babe.”

Around her, there were side bets taking place. Not that she had any earthly clue of Rick’s ability, but she had to guess some of the guys thought his very stature was enough to bet on. She had to admit, his confidence shook her . . . a little.

Judy placed the white ball on the table and leaned over. Directly in front of her, Rick stood, just on the other side of the colorful balls all racked up and ready to fly. Pool was nothing but angles and lines. Things she worked with every day in school. Once she pictured the table as a big grid with a multitude of possibilities, she started sinking balls and raking in some spending money for her and Meg to blow. She didn’t have to hustle pool. Her friends at the bar did it for her. Newbies were warned, and the bets were never high . . . just drinks and pocket change.

It was fun, and in the end, everyone had a good time.

She pulled back on the cue a few times, lining up the balls. “How many times do I have to tell you . . .” She slammed the balls together and both a solid and a stripe managed to disappear in opposite pockets. One glance at the table and she set up three more shots . . . solids. She walked around to Rick’s side of the table, leaned over, and finished her sentence. “I’m not your babe.” She sank the four and stood with a grin. With her index finger, she pushed Rick out of her personal space, and offered him her ass as she banked the one ball into a corner pocket.

She couldn’t remember flirting this shamelessly, especially when she had no real intentions of making good on her sexual vibes. Flirting with Rick was fun, but the man screamed danger and she just didn’t do danger. Not even for one night.

The next shot wasn’t a given, it would take a bank and it would probably hit the striped ten ball on its way in . . . but if she hit the ten at ninety degrees, it might just work. Judy lined up her angles while everyone around the table grew silent.

She felt the weight of Rick’s stare as she tapped the ball and watched as it slowly hit her target and nearly stopped before sinking. She sighed and grinned.

“Damn, Utah . . . you are good.” Yet Rick’s smile didn’t waver.

“Warned ya, dude.” Jerry was the resident killjoy, making sure every opponent knew the risk of betting against her.

There wasn’t a decent shot on the table, so Judy made sure the white ball wasn’t in an optimal position for Rick to make an easy target.

Rick walked around the table, studied the balls. “Wanna up the bet, babe?”

Judy’s back teeth ground together. The term babe just wasn’t one she’d ever liked.

“What do you have in mind?”

“If you win, I’ll stop calling you babe.”

“And if you win?”

“A date . . . anytime, anywhere I choose.” He wasn’t even looking at her when he suggested it.

“A date?”

He chalked his cue. “Anytime, anywhere.”

“I have finals and graduation.”

“Those dates are exempt.”

Judy glanced at the table . . .

“Seems like a win-win to me,” Meg chimed in from the stool she sat on while sucking on her vodka tonic.

Judy rolled her eyes.

“OK, bad boy . . . you have yourself a bet.”

Noise from the bar caught her attention. A couple of guys were arguing about a game on the massive TV.

She turned around and focused on Rick.

“So.” He leaned over and without any real focus, sank the eleven, a shot she hadn’t seen. “You really don’t like being called babe.”

“I prefer Utah over babe.”

The fourteen was an easy hit, but he managed to bank it and shove the nine in an opposite pocket on the other side of the table.

Those around the table started exchanging dollars.

Rick’s next shot missed.

Judy pulled off her jacket and handed it to Meg. So he wanted to play hardball?

The seven practically took a protractor to line up, but down it went and up went Rick’s eyebrow. Her next shot missed, but so did Rick’s.

She managed the two ball and was feeling confident when Rick sank two in one shot . . . again.

The hell!

“So, they play a lot of pool in the service?” she asked.

He laughed. “Not really.” He lined up his last ball on the table. It went in with ease and Judy’s heart rate shot up. She didn’t really have a hundred bucks on her. They’d only been in the bar for a couple of games before Rick managed to make an appearance. And then there was the date on which she just knew he’d call her babe the entire time.

“So where did you learn to play?”

He paused . . . made eye contact. “Hustled pool when I was seventeen. Made a ton of money, too.”

Ahh damn.

Noise from behind them caught both their attention. Seemed the resident drunk didn’t like the ref’s call and was getting in someone else’s face about it.

Judy focused on the table, noted the position of the eight ball. In all its black glory, it hugged the side of the table. Rick would have to be a moron to miss the shot. She might as well have the name babe monogrammed on her towels now.

“What’s the matter, babe? You look upset.”

“You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m upset.”

Rick chuckled, leaned over, and pulled the cue back.

From the bar, glass crashed to the floor. Judy swiveled in time to see a chair sailing in the air. She was about to duck when strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her out of the line of fire.

Her lungs exploded and all the air inside pushed out and had her head spinning.

Rick tucked her head into his strong, thick shoulder at the same time she felt his body jerk. Around him, wood splintered and she heard Meg yell.

Judy dared to look and noticed the bar erupt in a full-blown fight. This had happened once before, right after she’d turned twenty-one, but that had been a couple of years ago.