On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

didn't want them at her bar, it was good that they'd come in; they would see her doing what she always did. She wouldn't raise any suspicion.
    "I didn't say that," the man in front of her said.
    "What?"
    "You said there was no one here I was interested in, but that’s not true."
    Her heart skipped a beat at his direct gaze, and her pulse started beating way too fast. She'd made a point of not getting involved with tourists, or anyone for that matter, but this man was more than a little tempting. She'd been lonely on the island, living a life of pretense. But that pretense was crucial to staying alive. She couldn't let desire get in the way.
    "Nice line," she said casually. "I've heard it before—about three dozen times."
    He smiled. "I'll bet you have. But I'm the only one who meant it."
    "Sure you are."
    "What's your name?"
    Her body tensed. "You first."
    "Drew Callaway."
    "Do you want to add a title before your name? Maybe Lieutenant or Captain," she suggested. He had the air of leadership about him.
    He tipped his head, a gleam in his eyes. "Lieutenant."
    "With the…"
    "I'm in between services at the moment. Former Navy pilot, soon to be flying helicopters for the Coast Guard."
    Navy pilot certainly explained why he exuded both discipline and recklessness at the same time. It also probably explained where the shadows in his eyes came from.
    "What tipped you off?" he asked curiously.
    She shrugged. "I'm good at reading people. It comes with the job. Why did you leave the Navy?"
    He didn't answer right away, a contemplative expression in his eyes, then said, "My time was up. I needed a change of pace."
    "Where were you deployed?"
    "All over."
    "So you saw action?"
    "Too much."
    She gave him a thoughtful look. "It doesn't sound like you're making a huge change, moving from one kind of service to another."
    "I still get to fly, which is all I ever wanted to do, but hopefully not with as many people shooting at me."
    "I can't imagine that."
    "No, you can't." He sipped his drink, then set the glass down. "Your turn."
    She cleared her throat. She'd been living on the island for six months, and in that time no one had balked at the name that was on her fake passport, a version of her real name. "Ria," she said.
    "Pretty. Last name?"
    "Not important."
    "A woman of mystery."
    "A woman who likes her privacy."
    "How long have you lived here on the island, Ria?"
    "Long enough to know better than to get involved with tourists," she said with a brief smile.
    "No exceptions?"
    "Not so far. People come, they go. I'm still here." She paused. "What brought you to the island of dreams?"
    A smile curved his lips, giving him an entirely different look, one that was even more attractive. She felt a knot grow in her throat.
    "I dreamt about a beautiful blonde with big brown eyes," he said. "A full mouth, with soft kissable lips and a killer body." His gaze drifted down to her breasts. "I think I found her."
    Her nerves tingled under his scrutiny and she had to fight the urge to cover her breasts, not that much was showing in her bar uniform, a coral-colored red tank top over white shorts. Most of the women in the bar were showing more skin than she was.
    "You're quite the flirt," she said lightly.
    "Actually, I'm a little out of practice."
    "Just getting out of a relationship?" she queried, unable to believe this man would have any trouble getting a date.
    "I've been focused on other things. Staying alive for one."
    "I can see how that might be a priority."
    "What about you?" he asked. "Are you involved with anyone?"
    "No."
    "Good."
    "Why is that good?" she challenged.
    He smiled. "Because I like you, Ria. What time do you get off?"
    Her heart jumped at the hungry look in his eyes. "You're very direct."
    "I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't have a lot of time."
    "Where are you going?"
    "San Francisco."
    A wistful yearning filled her body. San Francisco was one of her favorite cities. And she'd been away for too long.
    "I love San Francisco," she said. "I lived there when I was a child. My grandfather was a fisherman. He'd take me out on the bay every chance he got." She drew in a quick breath, realizing she was talking way too much. "What part of the city do you live in?"
    "I grew up in St. Francis Wood, but I'll be living South of Market starting next week. It's the hot area to live in now, right near the new ballpark." He paused. "You didn't answer my question, Ria. What time do you get off?"
    She gave him a long look, feeling incredibly