Lana made clucking noises.
“I am not chicken!”
“Kate, he’s a gorgeous, high-profile ADA,” Lana said.
“Right and I’m a forensic pathologist in a white coat that provides him with DNA evidence so he can go to trial.”
“You’re changing the subject. Who cares what you do for a living? Sex with Jericho is on the table, take it or be Sister Kate for the rest of your life.”
“I’ll take it.”
“We need to toast to that.” They clinked their glasses.
“So,” Kate said, “I’ll go after Jericho, Lana is going after Sean, and you’re going after hunky what’s his name?”
“A.J. Camacho.”
“A.J. Camacho. So, the chase is on, ladies.”
“I think we need to prove that we slept with the guy,” Lana said, taking another sip of her drink.
“The burden of proof is on each of us. Concrete evidence will be required,” Kate agreed.
Sienna asked, “Evidence? What do you mean? Like a pair of undies or something?” This seemed to be getting out of control.
“Sure. An article that shows you slept with the guy,” Kate confirmed.
Lana laughed out loud and clapped her hands. “This from a forensic pathologist. It doesn’t surprise me. This is great. We are women who dare!”
“And we have until we all collect our souvenirs?” Sienna asked.
“That’s right,” Kate agreed.
Sienna looked over at A.J. Could she really do this? He didn’t fit into her orderly world.
A SEAL would be the kind of man who would challenge her to step out of her safe existence. So, A.J. was not long-term, but with his hard body and devastating looks, she knew the short-term would mean hot, earth-shattering sex.
From where he was sitting at the L-shaped bar, she could see he was talking to the bartender and smiling. Damn, what a smile. On the swoon meter, Sienna would give him an eleven, maybe even a twelve. While she watched him, he pushed his hair back with a graceful gesture that caused his right arm to ripple. Sienna’s knees went weak. Okay, he was off the meter. As if he could feel her watching him, he looked directly into her eyes.
* * *
A.J. felt the full impact of those enticing green eyes. The pull from across the bar was magnetic. She smiled and got up. Could he hope she was coming over here to talk to him? No, he told his traitorous body. He shouldn’t be hoping at all.
She stopped at his bar stool. “Would you like to dance, sailor?”
A.J. smiled and slid off the barstool. “The pleasure would be all mine, Sergeant.”
The dance floor was awash in soft golden light and so crowded that Sienna was pressed to A.J. as soon as he took her in his arms.
She knew he was asking her a question, but she couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. The urge to kiss him washed over her in waves, and she wondered who was seducing whom.
“What?”
“Do you like this song?” he repeated—this time into her ear and she shivered from the close contact.
“Yes,” she said above the strains of music, her eyes focusing on his mouth again.
“You have amazing eyes,” he murmured, his mouth still close to the delicate shell of her ear.