He lifted his head, his half-empty beer bottle forgotten. Glancing over his shoulder, he scanned the crowded, run-down bar for the cause. His gaze landed on a pretty, red haired woman standing inside the door. Her strapless dress hugged slender curves and displayed a pair of shapely legs. She scanned the room with purpose, apparently looking for someone in particular. Whoever the lucky bastard was would have a fight on his hands if he didn’t claim her quick. Since no pretty redheads were looking for him, Brody returned his attention to his beer. His eyes strayed to the mirror behind the bar where he could see her weaving her way through tables toward the counter with determination. What the hell was a woman like her doing in a place like this anyhow? He — and every other red-blooded male in the joint — noticed her. All five-foot-five inches of soft, decadent female wearing clothes completely inappropriate for this environment. And he wasn’t talking about the jungle outside the doors.
