Fast & Loose Read Online Free PDF

just crazy talk.” He dug into his inside jacket pocket and withdrew a credit card–shaped piece of cardboard. “Here,” he said, thrusting it at her. “A clubhouse pass to the Downs. You can thank me later.”
    Somehow she refrained from rolling her eyes. Big Daddy Race Fan was just so nice to the li’l ol’ local girl. She crossed her arms over her midsection. “Thanks, anyway, Big Daddy, but I have plans that day.” Mostly, she planned to steer clear of people like Big Daddy Race Fan.
    “Oh, come on,” he said in that indulgent tone of voice people used with underlings they were trying to humor. And just like that, Lulu’s back went up again. “Be the first local to watch the Derby from the clubhouse,” he said. “Make your city proud. Don’t worry about putting me out. They sent me a dozen of these things.”
    “I’m not worried about putting you out,” she told him. “The pass won’t be good for Derby Day. They never are.”
    His smile fell. “They’re not?”
    “Read the fine print,” she told him. “That’s why they sent you a dozen of them.”
    He flipped the card over and did just that. “Oh.”
    She almost felt sorry for him. He’d probably been thinking he’d have clubhouse privileges and all kinds of special treatment for Derby—for himself and eleven of his closest friends. Friends he doubtless planned to make while he was buying pitchers at Hooters. Poor guy. It was hard for someone like him to face the fact that he was just an Average Joe, not the big-time player he envisioned himself to be.
    “Have fun in the infield, Big Daddy,” she told him as she finally found the wherewithal to push past him and make her way to the door. “Don’t forget your sunscreen and Mardi Gras beads.”

Three
    COLE WATCHED THE YOUNG WOMAN WITH THE WILD red hair and disheveled clothes—and really nice ass—push through the door to the Realtor’s office. Then he continued to watch her—and her ass—as she strode down the front steps without a backward glance. Then he watched her—and her ass—some more as she waited on the sidewalk by the street, again without turning around once, until another young woman in a very disreputable-looking car pulled to a stop to let her in. The redhead did look back at him then, lifting a hand in farewell and smiling in a way that said, “I got the last word, sucker. Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah. ” Usually, Cole hated it when people looked at him that way. With her, though…
    He still hated it.
    Man, what an unpleasant, unhappy, unaccommodating harpy. So much for southern hospitality and southern belles. With that riot of unruly red hair, those icy blue eyes, and the battered clothes, she’d looked more like Raggedy Ann’s evil twin. Craggedy Ann. And she’d been about as personable, too.
    Though she smelled kind of nice, he thought further, something spicy and exotic that reminded him of horse liniment—which was actually a compliment, because horses smelled damned nice when they were cleaned up and shiny. Patchouli, he realized, recalling the scent from the brand name of a soap they used at one of the stables where he’d trained horses. Except it smelled way nicer on Craggedy than it had on the horses. And that was really a compliment.
    Not that Cole cared. About her smell or her eyes or her personality or any of it. The joke was on Craggedy. He didn’t need a pass to get into the clubhouse at Churchill Downs. Hell, he could watch the race from Millionaire’s Row if he wanted. And he would, too, dammit, just to show Craggedy Ann.
    He shoved a hand through his dark hair and expelled a cragged…uh, he meant ragged…sigh. His flight from LA had been brutal, and he hadn’t had a decent bite to eat since yesterday. His stomach was churning on black coffee and a couple of breath mints, and he wanted nothing more in the world than a thick steak and pile of steaming potatoes, bookended by a good single-malt Scotch and a snifter of premium brandy. The