Her fingers wiggled in return as she drew her legs up, used her other arm for leverage, and positioned herself on her knees. The table was wide so she needed to allow for a little more bend in her arm. Technique was critical in arm-wrestling.

“You comfortable?” He didn’t shift an inch.

“Give me—”

“Because I wouldn’t want you blaming your loss on wrong positioning.”

“—a second,” she bit out while settling into the prime spot for a win. “And for your information, I’m not going to lose.”

“What is it they say?” he teased, taking her hand and wrapping his fingers between hers. “Oh yeah. ‘May the best man win.’”

She heard his words, but couldn’t register any meaning. The hand-holding sent a hot rush of warmth through her, as if she’d dipped her body in luxuriating bath oil. Comfort tinged with need settled over her thoughts, leading her to believe she’d met her match. A match she’d had no intention of encountering. How did the simple act of touching his hand do that? She didn’t want to let go.

A flicker of heat in his eyes made her quiver and she hoped he didn’t feel any doubt in her grip. It seemed hopeless to exert any strength right now.

And that was precisely why he looked at her that way, Tess rationalized. He wanted her off balance, hoping to gain the upper hand. Well, he’d failed. She willed the electricity she felt between them away, and got down to business. She’d learned to compartmentalize while working for P.I.E., and there was no reason why she couldn’t apply it to her date.

“You’ll be sorry you said that in a minute.”

“On your count then.”

“One…two…three.”

Tess was much stronger than she looked. Left or right hand didn’t matter. She wrote right handed, swung a baseball bat right-handed, but what she’d failed to mention was she did pretty much everything else left-handed, including one-arm push-ups. She watched him realize his miscalculation the second she finished counting.

“You’re not”—he growled—“right handed, are you?”

“Oh, I’m right handed. But I’m left handed too.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“I’m ambidextrous,” she bragged.

With eyes glued on him, she took him down, their hands hitting the table with a thump. When he immediately released her, she wished it had taken more time to win. Victory didn’t feel as good as his hand did.

“How about dinner?” he asked as if nothing had happened.

“That’s it? No congratulations?” She resituated herself on the seat, her legs grateful for the change in position.

“I’d be happy to congratulate you,” he drawled, “except I believe I’m the winner here.”

“Do I need to explain win and lose to you?” she teased, adjusting the neckline of her dress.

His eyes dipped to her chest for a split second. “I’m sure there’s lots of things you’d like to enlighten me on, but I’m good on that point.”

“You owe me breakfast.”

“I do. And I’ll let you know when.”

Hugh always thought before he acted. But somewhere between Tess’s clearing her throat and issuing an arm-wrestle challenge, he’d lost track of his mission: find out if she knew anything that would help him find Trey.

He’d assumed his apprentice’s identity to discover if Trey’s blind date might turn up some useful information. In Hugh’s mind, there was no such thing as a chance encounter.

And that notion had hit him in the gut with the force of a hurricane. Because the second he’d laid eyes on Tess, he knew his life was about to change. With pale yellow hair that fell in waves past her shoulders, smart, challenging eyes and sun-kissed skin, she was the most captivating creature he’d ever seen.

“It’s only fair that I get to pick the place then. I mean I did win. I should have some say in my prize.” Her eyes sparkled bluer than tropical waters, matching the color of her sexy dress.

“I’ll give you that,” he conceded. “And go so far as to add anywhere your heart desires.” He wanted to whisk her away right now. Start his vacation this instant with her along for the ride. Her floral scent seeped into his skin, and he could still feel her warmth at his fingertips. The wisps of blonde hair around her face made him itch to touch her.

Bloody hell. Had he really just offered to fly her anywhere? This was not a real date. He didn’t do women. Well, he did them. But only meaningless one-night stands. Something told him Tess was anything but meaningless. She put on a tough exterior, but he’d tasted her fear when he’d acted like an asshole. He suspected beyond her guard lay a woman that could unravel him.

Her eyes grew wider. “Anywhere, huh? Within what mile radius, may I ask?”

“That depends on the rest of the date,” he teased. Fuck.He didn’t tease. He cleared his throat. “I’m a pilot. We can fly to San Francisco. Seattle. Chicago. Cabo.” Reaching for his beer, he took a long drag while she pondered his generosity. He told himself he’d made the offer only to get her to trust him, to let down her defenses and go beyond small talk. He certainly had no intention of following through.

“Wow.” She joined him in a drink. “I’m glad I agreed to this blind date.”

Blind date. Right. She had no idea who he was and for a split second he thought about coming clean. Because he knew how to read women—human women in particular—and Tess’s scent told him he’d aroused her, her combative eyes told him he’d intrigued her. But this wasn’t about the two of them, and with a shake of his head, he reminded himself he had no interest in seeing to her wants.

The churning in his stomach had nothing to do with wanting her to like him.

It had to do with keeping his distance. As alpha for the Night Runners, he was expected to mate and have children. But after his older brother, Max, had died from a broken heart, Hugh vowed to avoid attachment. That decision hadn’t sat well with the pack and so he’d decided to groom Trey to take over. The younger wolfen was anxious to mate and was honored to step into the role.

“You okay?”

Tess’s question shook him from his thoughts, and he let out a low grumble. No woman had stirred even the tiniest emotion from him. Why this one?

“I’m fine,” he said. And then to erase the desire he saw in her eyes, he added, “Maybe I should take your demon roommates to breakfast too?”

The frown she gave him said he’d offended her by including her friends. Good. “You…”

He waited, trying not to show signs she had him on the edge of his seat. Her voice sounded flustered, and he imagined she was sorting out how much temperament to give away in her answer.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle the three of us. Trust me.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do.”

“Anything you don’t know?” he asked, because despite knowing he shouldn’t keep baiting her, he couldn’t stop himself. She worried her lips in a most fascinating way when flustered. And when she used them to talk? He wanted to shut her up—the good old-fashioned way—with a kiss.

She eyed him for a few seconds. “I’m on the fence about who’s going to win Survivor.”

He laughed. Out loud. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten him to do that. And then his eyes betrayed him by roaming down to the low-cut neckline of her dress. A dress she didn’t appear comfortable wearing—which only made her more attractive. He took in her tanned, toned arms, watched her drink her ale like it was water and knew without a doubt he’d find her outside doing something physical rather than indoors painting her nails. Which, he noticed, were void of color.

He was about to offer his Survivor prediction when his sense of smell drew him to the entrance of the bar. Dane strolled in, looking tenser than he had earlier in the day. His mouth was drawn tight, his thick eyebrows furrowed. Did he have news about Trey?