Coulter hadn’t hustled any pool, cheated anyone at cards, or challenged anyone to a rigged feat of strength.
His purpose in coming to the city—bigger cons, bigger stakes—had disappeared in the face of a pretty waitress named Rachel.
Now if only she would quit asking him what he was thinking about.
They were in her bedroom, where they’d spent the better part of the day.
Naked and nestled against his back, Rachel stretched and sighed. “What are you thinking about?” she murmured.
Coulter clenched his jaw in annoyance. “Nothing.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s true. I rarely have a thought in my head. I’m not complicated, sweetheart.”
Rachel pulled teasingly at one of his locks. “How come a guy gets to naturally have hair this color?”
Enough with the questions, he thought. Then decided to ask one of his own. “Why do you sleep on the floor?”
Rachel laughed. “Japanese minimalism, just a few tatami mats, some shoji screens, and the futon we’re using. Leaves me clear and uncluttered and able to focus on other things.” Her hand slid across his stomach and then dipped lower. “Like you for instance.”
Coulter sucked in his breath. Catching her hand, he moved it away to a less sensitive area. “Give me some time to build up my strength, Lady Viagra.”
Rachel was quiet after that, and Coulter relaxed. He closed his eyes.
“Do you want to see the new Brad Pitt movie?” Rachel asked.
“No,” he said shortly.
“He’s my favorite actor.”
Coulter stubbornly kept his eyes shut.
Rachel tapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t you like Brad Pitt?”
He had a feeling she was going to keep bugging him until he answered. “He’s got stringy hair.”
“George Clooney. Now there’s—”
“What’s up with that squint? Hello Popeye.”
Rachel giggled. “You bitch! Russell Crowe?”
“Thick legs and a stocky frame.”
“Umm, what about—”
She squealed as Coulter rolled over and pulled her on top of him.
It was obvious he wasn’t going to get any sleep, and hell if he wanted to answer any more questions.
He slid his hand into her hair, curving his palm against the back of her neck as he guided her head down and took her lips with his.
A door slammed in the distance, and Rachel froze.
Coulter looked up at her. “Your roommate?”
She moved off him and pulled the covers to her chin. “She’s in Tahoe.”
Coulter sat up. He could practically feel the tension radiating off her body. He was about to get up and investigate when the bedroom door crashed open. A petite brunette stood there and glared at them.
He let out a deep breath and lounged back on his elbows.
The stranger looked like an elf and seemed about as harmless.
Next to him, Rachel grasped the bedsheet so tightly, her knuckles were white. “You’re not supposed to be here, Liz. We’re through.”
Oh, so it was like that now, was it? Coulter was intrigued.
He settled in for the show. He relished the idea of a catfight. Hair pulling, scratching, and Rachel was naked. Maybe the elf would end up that way too.
Instead, she pulled out a small gun and aimed it between his legs.
Jesus Christ Almighty! The gun was killing the mood.
“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded, sitting up.
Liz’s eyes glittered. “How could you, Rachel?”
Coulter decided she no longer looked cute. She looked like a deranged pixie.
And then she pulled the trigger.
Rachel screamed. Futon filling went flying. He looked down at the hole in the sheet. The bitch nearly had him singing soprano.
“Liz, stop!” Rachel cried.
Anger welled inside him. He looked wildly around for something to use, something he could move. Nothing but those goddamn mats, some paper-thin screens, and a futon.
Frustration and fear melded with the rage inside him as Liz took aim again. Coulter was unprepared for what happened next.
Without any conscious effort, he felt the familiar pull in his gut.
Liz flew back against the wall. Her gun clattered to the floor.
Coulter stared in shock. What the hell had happened? He couldn’t move people. He couldn’t move animals. He’d tried. Something to do with energy fields.
Too late, he realized he could have just moved the gun from her hand.
Rachel stared at him, trembling. “What just happened?”
He leaped up and grabbed his clothes. He wasn’t about to hang around for the aftermath.
And not for the first time in his life, Coulter Marshall found himself running out of a woman’s house buck naked.