“Neither are you, despite that rather attractive blush.” His voice was a little lower, a little rougher. Natalie squirmed in her seat. Was she actually getting turned on by a complete stranger in a bar with the Padres playing in the background?

A shout rose from all corners, providing a much-needed distraction.

“Damn that ump!”

“Frickin’ blind is what he is.”

“If that was a strike, then call me Bunny.”

“Get me a beer, Bunny.”

The shout and the annoyed muttering broke the tension that had been building and Natalie sat up in her seat a little, taking another drink of her beer. “You a Padres fan?”

He smiled like he knew exactly what she was doing. “I’d be a fool to admit otherwise in this crowd.”

“Tell you a secret?”

George leaned closer. “Please Cer.ise in .”

“Oakland A’s.”

He pulled away. “Blasphemy.”

She shrugged. “Don’t tell anyone or my life is forfeit.”

He sipped his drink again, tracing his finger around the rim of the glass. Her eyes were playing tricks on her, because it almost looked like the ice in his glass followed the path of his finger. She shook her head. No more beer, Nat.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, staring at his drink.

“Of course. I’m very trustworthy.” As long as you’re not a dirty politician or a bad cop.

His dark eyes focused on hers. It was ludicrous to say a spark jumped between them. No, it was more like… a pull. She wanted to lean closer, so she did.

“Giants.”

Natalie gasped. “That’s worse than me!”

“You hold my life in your hands.”

“I do.” She took another drink. “Great blackmail material.”

“I should have known. It’s always the pretty ones who are the most vicious.”

She laughed. “So, what do you do, George-who-isn’t-George?”

“Other than run into pretty girls at bars?”

“You’re being nice. I ran into you.”

“Maybe I bumped into you on purpose.” His dark eyes danced and his smile took her breath away for a moment. “And I’m in private security work.”

“Really? Mysterious.”

“Not nearly as much as it sounds.” He shrugged. “Mostly for clubs and other businesses. Casinos. Things like that.”

“So, your own business?”

“No, my boss is in LA.”

“Ah.”

“But I live here. Well, have lived here for the past three years or so. I’ll probably be moving back to LA eventually.”

“That’s interesting.”

“What do you do?”

Natalie smiled to herself. “I’m a reporter. A crime reporter for the Tribune.”

“So you make those lurid headlines they blast over the front page?”

“Ha!” She shook her head, pleased he hadn’t recoiled like many men did. Reporters didn’t exactly have the best reputation, especially among those in any kind of law enforcement or security work. If her dad hadn’t been a cop, the guys at the end of the bar would never have even given her the time of day. “No, it’s someone else’s job to do headlines. I just write the stories.”

“A writer, huh?” He looked thoughtful. “Hard job. Dangerous?”

“It has its moments.” She shrugged. “But it’s very rewarding. I’m working on a story right now about some girls out in the desert who were murdered. It’s kind of like the Juarez case. Are you familiar with it?”

He turned serious and the mood shifted. “Sure I am.”

She took another long drink of her beer. “It’s not as bad as Juarez. Not yet, anyway. I’m hoping to coordinate with some colleagues on the other side of the border. Find out what’s going on before it gets worse.”

“Is that a good idea?” His smile had fled. “To go looking into that? What about the police?”

“Clueless.” She shook her head. “Not clueless, exactly. It’s just that it’s happening in multiple jurisdictions. Multiple countries, even. There’s so much protocol and paperwork Cnd ueless, they have to do. Journalists have more freedom than police in some cases.”

He put his hand on her arm and she felt a tingling sensation where his fingers touched. “Natalie, do you really think you should—”

“You know…” She pulled her arm away immediately. “I get this funny feeling you’re going to be really presumptuous and say my work is too dangerous. Maybe that I should leave it to law enforcement and find something else to occupy my pretty head?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You weren’t going to do that, were you, George?”

“Nat—”

“Because you seem like a smart guy, but you don’t know me well enough to have an opinion about what I can and can’t do.”

“I wasn’t—” He stopped himself and there was a long pause. “I was. You’re right. I don’t know you well enough to make assumptions.”

“Thank you for not being an ass.”

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t sound happy about it, though. That was fine. Far more important people in her life had problems with her chosen career and she ignored them, too.

“Need help?” He raised an eyebrow. “Security work, remember? You need a bodyguard?”