Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 Read Free Page B

shouted over their loud-as-hell bikes. “Your tour is finito.”
    The crazy-cool glint in her eye dared him for more. “Where will you be tomorrow night?” he asked.
    “Paulie’s,” she said simply.
    Then she was off, tearing down the road toward the base’s main gate.

Chapter Three
    By Friday night, Leah wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the weekend. She’d had jack shit to do all day. After cleaning her apartment in the morning, she’d read the newest Vince Flynn and still had hours left to fill.
    She’d called Jon and Ryan to see if they wanted to go out, but they had prior commitments. Jon and Heather were going to some French foreign movie—and Leah really didn’t want to know why he’d started laughing when he’d mentioned it. Ryan had been headed out the door to visit Cassandra’s dad in Henderson, even though Cass was working late at the gallery. Family time? That one was beyond strange, but whatever. Leah could find something to do on her own.
    So Paulie’s it was, just like she’d told Mike. Not that it had been an invitation. Mostly her default answer for Friday nights.
    Only a couple blocks away from the Nellis main gate, Paulie’s was a tidy little hole-in-the-wall joint. When Leah cruised in around twenty-one hundred hours, only about half the tables and booths were filled. No one was up on the karaoke stage. Templeton was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d be too wiped out from unpacking boxes to make an appearance.
    Unfortunately, the idea of him spending the day moving in led to ideas about him hot. And sweaty. And standing under a steaming shower, washing off the dirt. What would all that new weight through his torso look like when stripped bare? She pictured a rivulet of water dribbling down between his pecs and soap bubbles outlining his abs.
    Even when they’d been together, he’d been cut. Not buff, but lean enough that every muscle had stood out in stark definition. Now…
    Now, she had to get her brain up out of her panties. That was a crash waiting to happen.
    Besides, the fact that his body was bigger meant nothing about the methods he used in the sack. He’d still be all sweetness and light, wasting that wickedly naughty grin.
    Slipping into an empty booth, Leah pointedly didn’t look at the table they staked when the whole crew showed up. Sitting there by herself would be silly. She waved down the waitress who wove through the tables with an empty drink tray balanced on one hand.
    “Hi, Princess,” Theresa chirped. “Your boys abandon you?”
    She couldn’t even get away from her call sign with civilians. But then, Theresa hardly counted since the majority of the clientele at Paulie’s were airmen—none of whom hesitated to whip out the cinnamon-bun-hair jokes. She smiled at the blonde. “They’re turning into respectable members of society.”
    Theresa shook her head with mock disappointment. “It’s a crying shame. Two flyboys like that getting tied down.”
    “Women all over the city are in deep mourning.”
    “Don’t think I’m not one of them.” The waitress winked. “Now what can I get you?”
    Leah wound the end of her long ponytail through her fingers then drew it over her shoulder. She wanted a margarita, heavy on the tequila. But she’d ridden her bike, and it’d be rude as hell to call Jon or Ryan for a ride when she knew they were occupied. “A Dr. Pepper,” she said on a sigh.
    “Coming right up, sweetheart.” Theresa disappeared on a swish of hips.
    With no one onstage to laugh at, Leah pulled her phone out of her pocket to amuse herself with a flying game. Even she knew that she was a little obsessed.
    When Theresa came back, she set the plastic cup on the table in front of Leah. “Here you go.”
    “Cherries, even?” She grinned up at the waitress. “Don’t tell me you’re so desperate for a pilot that you’ll pick up a chick?”
    Theresa laughed. “All joking aside, you pilots are too scary psycho for me. The cherries are from