Love, Tussles, and Takedowns (Cactus Creek #3)(3)

Lord knew she was already getting past his.

Unable to stop himself now, he steadied his gaze on her in a way that went against both his training and his better judgment…neither of which seemed to be present at the moment. Then expecting it for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, even at twenty paces away, Hudson knew the exact moment his continued, deliberate stare permeated her senses.

It was barely noticeable.

Had he not been watching for it, he wouldn’t have seen her entire body skid to a brief, wary standstill, mid-smile. In actuality, she recovered so quickly there was barely any hiccup in her movements at all.

Impressive.

Having spent nearly half his life as a soldier, and the better part of the last decade encountering adept female combatants—scrappy refuse-to-be-victims and ruthless enemies alike—you’d think his coming across one so stunning wouldn’t knock him on his ass quite so hard. But this one did. The subtle changes in her stance, her limbs, and her gaze were all the telltale signs of someone well-versed in martial arts. Not a soldier, but a fighter nonetheless. A good one. The kind self-trained to know when they were being watched, skilled enough to be ready, and patient enough to wait for the fight to come to them.

Yep, this woman was undeniably a fighter.

And right now, she was just waiting to see if the set of eyes tracking her every move belonged to a person bringing a tussle her way.

Hot damn.

Just like that, every male atom in him rushed to the forefront on alert.

Now stuck at all-systems-go, Hudson restlessly glanced down at the exhibit brochure he’d picked up outside the ballroom. Another mystery. No female presenters were listed. A quick match-up of the other presenters in attendance with the ones pictured on the brochure and he was hit with another fascinating blow. The woman wasn’t just using Spencer’s transportation and security services. She was there in place of the owner, Jack Spencer himself.

Curiouser, and curiouser.

She wasn’t just an insider to the antique arms community, she was a rockstar. In fact, a few of her fellow collectors who’d finished their own presentations had come over specifically to chat with her before her scheduled timeslot, each showing her a familiar, easygoing respect.

With only one looking at her like he wanted her naked for his next meal.

The instant landmines of possessiveness detonating in Hudson’s gut over the asshat’s smarmy perusal of her made him do a double-take. Sure, every guy had their inner alpha dom in some shape or form but Hudson hadn’t ever exchanged growling grunts with his until now.

…Now that Mr. Slick Suit and Matching Smile was leaning over to speak into the woman’s ear. Far closer than he needed to be.

When he caught the touch of tired discomfort in her eyes, politely shielded behind an awkward laugh and a firm-but-genial headshake, Hudson barely, just barely, managed to remain where he was. His back molars grinding down to dust.

But then the * put his hand on the small of her back.

And the all-metal pen Hudson was holding broke clean in half.

Shit. Even without looking, he knew her eyes had snapped over in his direction; he could feel her silently daring him to meet her gaze.

All but baited, he took that dare. And saw two things clear as day.

One, she recognized him.

And two…that was definitely muffled desire plain and simple searing across her features.



*



IT WAS HIM.

Lia took a second to let out a tightly-trapped breath to get her breathing back to the normal first-in-then-out pattern her lungs had grown fond of for daily function.

Momentarily overlooking the disturbing fact that a single glance at a man could so thoroughly rob her of her basic senses, she mulishly kept her eyes trained on him in an epic staring contest that her wholly uneven fight or flight instincts demanded she keep up and win.

Meanwhile, some other instinct, a very female one she’d long forgotten she possessed, was demanding she take another approach to the situation altogether.

Forget fighting, and start fantasizing.

What the—

But before her brain could even begin to process the implications of that bizarre reaction, the exhibit coordinator stepped in front of her to call the crowd’s attention her way.

“And last but not least, Liana Lin, standing in for Jack Spencer, with an extensive collection of war rifles throughout history.”

When the audience clapped their appreciative second welcome of the morning, Lia finally yanked her eyes away from the man to smile and greet the attendees...at the last possible second. It was a grudging declaration of defeat in their staring contest to say the least, but it managed to inspire sexy little laugh lines around the man’s eyes for just the briefest of moments.

Lia gritted her teeth and somehow defied the urge to glue her eyes back on the enigmatic stranger in response.

Her only consolation being that the man seemed equally bewildered, and powerless, against whatever was tethering their attention together.

Well played, universe.

While she was thankful to now know whose eyes had been on her for the last fifteen minutes, she was overwhelmingly discombobulated by the ruggedly intense man belonging to those eyes. As Lia was well aware, fate had a twisted sense of humor, with the added kick of bizarre timing to boot. It did sound just like the universe’s M.O. to bring forth the man she’d been unable to stop thinking about since first spotting him at her friend Dani’s wedding weeks ago, into a forum where he could hear her geek out about rifles.