by J. S. Scott
Without another word, she carried the plates to the customers. When she got back, she told Ned quietly, “Just keep your voice down, okay? It’s annoying for the diners.” And me!
She heard him curse none-too-quietly before she turned her back to him and started to carefully mix up some cocktails. She could muddle through bartending, but she was slow with cocktails she wasn’t familiar with making. Most of the locals came here for the beer or simple alcoholic drinks. In the summer, a very large percentage of tourists came in to try the microbrews.
“Mai tai,” she muttered to herself, her brows crinkling as she reached for the cheat sheet she used for fancier drinks.
“I got it, missy,” a friendly male voice told her confidently as he set out a glass on the counter.
She looked up and saw the kindest face she’d seen in quite some time, a man about her dad’s age who winked at her and gently pushed her aside.
Strangely, he looked like he belonged behind the bar more than she did, and that fact kept her silent for a minute, trying to figure out why he was here.
He talked while he worked. “A great mai tai is deceptively hard to make. Anybody can throw the ingredients together, but they don’t always do it right.” The unknown man started tossing glasses and bottles of alcohol in a fancy juggling act as he alternated pouring ingredients into a shaker. “They shouldn’t be yellow or red. A good mai tai is smooth and tan.”
Kristin knew she should step in and ask what in the world the stranger was doing behind her father’s bar, but she was caught up in his showy style of bartending. It was clear the guy knew how to make a drink. In fact, he knew his way around a bar better than anyone she’d ever seen before.
She finally opened her mouth as he garnished the drink. “Who are you? And why are you behind my bar?”
He put a hand on his chest. “My bar now. From the looks of things, you could use the help.”
Kristin looked around in panic, wondering whether the man was crazy. There were a lot of strangers in town for the festival, and he was obviously an out-of-towner. He was wearing a pair of knee-length shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops—an insane kind of outfit considering it was almost winter in the Northeast.
Her gaze found and locked with a pair of gorgeous blue eyes that had haunted her wet dreams for months, a guy so stunningly gorgeous that her heart skipped a few beats.
It didn’t matter that she knew him, or that they were unfriendly acquaintances. Involuntarily, her body reacted every single time she saw him again.
Julian Sinclair!
He was leaning against the bar, grinning at her as his too-azure eyes continued to stare at her mischievously. “He’s your replacement for a while. We have a wedding to attend.”
Kristin felt a pang of sadness over the fact that she wasn’t attending Micah and Tessa’s wedding. She’d grown close to Tessa, a hometown Olympian who had tragically lost her hearing years ago. Since her best friend, Mara, was now married to one of the wealthy Sinclair men, Kristin had slowly come to know and like most of the family . . . well, maybe except for Julian. For the most part, he was an annoying pain in her ass.
Tessa was marrying Julian’s older brother, Micah Sinclair. Kristin was one of the few non-family-members invited to the Vegas wedding, and even though Micah was paying all expenses, Kristin couldn’t leave her parents or the bar.
She’d been feeling melancholy since the afternoon, when Sarah had left the office early to fly out to Vegas with her husband.
“I’m not going,” she told Julian with a confused expression. “I already told Tessa I couldn’t make it.”
“You’re going,” Julian answered confidently. “I’m here to pick you up. Tessa would be disappointed if you didn’t go.”
Kristin was more than a little disappointed herself. She’d never been to Vegas, and she had desperately wanted to see Tessa’s happy ending after so many years of heartache.
“I can’t make it,” she told him a little more forcefully, sending Julian a warning glance not to argue with her.
Looking directly at him was a mistake. The man was hot enough to melt glaciers in Greenland. It was no wonder he was in high demand as an actor. Not only was he gorgeous, with his artfully messy blond hair and sky-blue eyes framed with lashes any woman would kill for, but he also had a body so toned and fit that Kristin was fairly certain she could bounce a quarter pretty damn far off almost any muscle mass in his entire body.
No man should look quite as sinfully perfect as Julian Sinclair. The really unfair part was that he was as talented as he was handsome. With one Academy Award under his belt, and a second movie already a blockbuster hit, Julian was probably one of the most recognized A-listers in Hollywood. In addition, he was also filthy rich, a member of the elite Sinclair family.
Unfortunately, he was also a major prick. Cocky. Bossy. Arrogant. Way too used to getting his own way.
Maybe she had seen a little more insightful side of Julian occasionally during their last few encounters, but overall, he was still an antagonistic jerk.
“Your bag is in the car, and my jet is waiting. Mara went and packed a bag for you with your mother’s help. Apparently, your parents are more than willing to have somebody fill in for you. They want you to go. They’re happy you’re getting away for a weekend.”
My parents know I passed up the opportunity to go to Vegas? Bastard! There’s no way Mara would have told Mom and Dad without encouragement from Julian.
Kristin’s parents were her weakness, and she knew they’d be disappointed if she turned down a trip to Vegas because she was needed to tend the bar. If she’d told her dad that she wanted to go, he would have closed the bar for a few days if necessary. But she hadn’t wanted to do that. Her parents couldn’t afford to lose the weekend revenues.
She wasn’t sure why she was arguing with him. This all had to be some kind of elaborate joke. Julian liked to screw with her for some reason. He seemed to get his kicks from doing it.
He’s not serious.
“I can’t,” she told him, turning her head to watch as patrons started moving toward the bar, ordering drinks just to admire the skillful new bartender. “Even if the bar is covered, I need to do lunch and dinner this weekend.”
Julian put his arm around a petite blonde next to him and swaggered over to Kristin’s side. “This is Sandie Retzlaff.” He nodded to the bartender. “That’s her husband, Carl. Sandie can cook, and Carl, as you can see, can handle the bar just fine. He’s used to working a busy place. And he loves to show off his skills.”
“I’ll just go check into the kitchen,” Sandie told Julian as she smiled at him and wandered through the door to the food-prep area.
Kristin grabbed the sleeve of Julian’s light-blue sweater. “You’re joking, right? Sandie and Carl Retzlaff own Retzlaff’s Restaurant in California. That’s not . . . them, right?” She nodded her head toward the bartender.
“Yep. That’s the same dynamic duo. Now that Carl has taught all of his skills to his bartenders, he was getting bored. He wanted a challenge.”
“Sandie Retzlaff is a master chef and one hell of a businesswoman.” Kristin had heard of Retzlaff’s. Most people in the bar or restaurant business knew them at least by reputation. The elegant restaurant was famous throughout the nation for their amazing food and showman bartenders who could toss out some elaborate cocktails.
“Carl’s actually damn talented, too. He’s won mixology competitions all over the country,” Julian added amiably. “Now let’s get going. Vegas awaits, and I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink and some food.”
“My bartender is wearing flip-flops,” she answered drily. “Julian, I can’t leave Shamrock’s and just take off for Vegas.”
Leaving on a whim wasn’t possible for her. Maybe Julian could do it, but she wasn’t a Sinclair, and her life just didn’t function that way.
Her waking hours were filled with work.
And she always had responsibilities.
�
�Tessa’s getting married. You aren’t just leaving, and it isn’t exactly going to affect your parents’ business. I persuaded the best two professionals in the country to run Shamrock’s while you’re gone. I told you once that I owed you for doing me a favor. You weren’t willing to collect. So take advantage of me now.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kristin could see more and more people swarming around the bar to watch Carl. Since when had bartending become a spectator sport? She could hear Carl talking about his years in the Marine Corps while he was doing some pretty precarious tosses with liquor bottles before he garnished several drinks with a flourish.
“I. Can’t. Leave.” Her voice was tight and irritated. Julian’s ruse had gone on long enough.
She didn’t know why he’d gone to this much trouble to make her feel guilty, but she didn’t really care. There was no need to defend herself or her situation. She just wanted him to leave.
“Of course you can,” Julian said with an annoyingly calm tone.
“My cook is a problem,” she informed him.
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Ned came flying out of the kitchen and landed on his ass behind the bar.
Sandie leaned into the service window as she warned, “And stay out of the kitchen. If you can’t even make a decent hamburger without copping an attitude, you’re fired.”
Kristin bit her lip to keep from smiling as she watched Ned rise to his feet and limp out the door of the bar.
Obviously, the petite master chef had kicked Ned’s ass in under a minute. Seeing somebody put Ned in his place was almost worth this whole farce.
“He’s not a problem anymore,” Julian finally answered drily as he grabbed her hand. “We’re out of here.”
She tried to shake her fingers from his grip. “No, we are not. You can’t just walk in here, replace the staff, and expect me to walk out the door with you willingly.”
“That’s exactly what I expect,” he contradicted in a sexy baritone that skittered up Kristin’s spine. “Do you really want to disappoint everybody who wants you to be at Tessa’s wedding?”
“Of course not,” Kristin denied, feeling angry at herself for giving in to the guilt Julian was laying on so heavily. “But you can’t just arrange my life to get what you want.” She huffed and started to walk away. “I want to go, but I learned a long time ago that you can’t always get everything you want.”
“You have no reason not to go—other than pure stubbornness.” Julian wasn’t smiling anymore, and his expression was more determined than amused.
She shrugged. “Think what you want, but I resent you trying to tell me what to do. I’m not one of your employees or part of your fan club.”
“No reason to think. Your responsibilities are covered,” Julian remarked casually. “I was hoping to make it easy for you to go. But I should have known you’d still be stubborn. We’ll just have to do this the hard way.” He raised his voice. “Hey, Carl. Quarterback skills. We’re going forced exit.”
Without missing a beat, Carl pulled Kristin’s purse out from under the bar and tossed it over the crowd to Julian. It was a perfect throw and an expert one-handed catch.
Kristin was still trying to yank her fingers from his grip when Julian easily picked up her significant weight and slung her over his shoulder like she was barely a burden, then bodily carried her out of Shamrock’s without saying another word.
CHAPTER 2
“Don’t even think about it,” Julian warned as he leaned back on the plush seat of their limousine.
“Think about what?” Kristin asked angrily.
“If you jump from a moving vehicle, you’ll more than likely end up breaking your neck, and that would be a shame. You’d miss Vegas and the wedding.”
It irritated her that he not only had known exactly what she was contemplating, but had quickly come to the same conclusion as her. There was no way she was taking a swan dive from a moving vehicle.
She’d been so shocked by his outrageous behavior that she hadn’t been able to speak until now, even though they’d been riding for several minutes. How he’d gotten the fancy limo down a closed street, she didn’t know. But Kristin was fairly certain it had a lot to do with the chief of police being Julian’s cousin, Dante. The old chief had retired just a few months ago, and Dante Sinclair had taken the promotion when it was offered to him.
Kristin shot Julian a furious glare. Even though it was already getting dark, the vehicle had lights in the passenger area. As far as Kristin could tell, the fancy car had everything, any luxury a person could ever want. Hell, she could throw a damn party in the back of the limo if she wanted. Unfortunately, parties were the last thing on her mind.
As she stared at the man across from her, it was impossible not to notice how Julian was sprawled across the seat, looking like he hadn’t just kidnapped a woman from her father’s bar, and like there was nothing he couldn’t do if he wanted to do it. He seemed to exude some kind of alpha-male pheromones that made her uncomfortable. Sure, he was handsome. He was, after all, a superstar. But there was something about the way Julian seemed comfortable in his own skin that rattled the hell out of her.
Unless he was performing, she highly doubted he gave a damn how he looked. But even dressed carelessly in a pair of jeans that had obviously seen some wear, and topped with a light-blue fisherman’s sweater, he still wore those clothes confidently. If she was being completely honest, casual was a good look on him. If she added his frequently spiking blond hair that made him look like he had just rolled out of bed—but in a sexy, totally unfair, hot kind of way—and his expressive blue eyes, she didn’t doubt that women all over the world wanted to be the one to catch his attention.
Tearing her eyes away from the tempting sight of his big body lounging casually on the seat, she asked, “Why do you care if I jump out of the car? I haven’t even figured out why you’re here.”
“I told you why I’m here. Mara said she couldn’t persuade you to come, so I decided to swing by and pick you up.” He paused before adding, “Turns out I had to pick you up literally.”
Smartass, cocky bastard!
“You didn’t pick me up. You kidnapped me,” she accused, still feeling like everything that was happening was surreal. “And you left my parents’ livelihood in the hands of a man in loud shorts and flip-flops.”
“Carl thinks they’re sexy. He likes to impress the ladies. I don’t think you saw his ‘signature shake,’ but customers seem to love it. And in all fairness, I did tell him we were going to the coast. He just didn’t realize which one until he and Sandie got into the jet.”
Kristin crossed her arms over her breasts and shot Julian a stubborn look. “He’s married. He shouldn’t care about the ladies.”
“He doesn’t mess around. He just likes to attract attention. He’s actually the best bartender in the country. By the time we get back, he’ll have increased your parents’ business tenfold. Between Sandie’s culinary skills and Carl’s bartending expertise, you’ll have a line waiting to get into Shamrock’s. Look, Sandie and Carl are friends. They’re doing me a big favor. Can’t you just let go of your pride and admit you wanted to go to the wedding? You look exhausted.”
Julian lifted a brow in question. “Maybe I wanted you to be at the wedding. Maybe I didn’t want to be the only guy present without a date. Maybe I never forgot how it felt to kiss those adorable, pouty lips of yours, or the chemistry between us.” He hesitated for a few seconds before adding, “After I had a taste, you had to know I’d be back for more.”
Kristin opened her mouth and then closed it again, letting what he said sink in. “It was just a kiss. It was nothing.”
Sweet baby Jesus! Did he really need to mention that day in the bar—not so long ago—when he’d had her moaning for more as he claimed her with an embrace she’d certainly never forgotten?
The car seemed to be getting warmer and warmer as she recalled exactly how she’d felt that day.
Desperate.
Wanting.
Free . . . if only for a moment in time.
A sigh escaped her lips unchecked, and she chastised herself as Julian searched her face, as though he was looking for something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“It wasn’t nothing,” Julian replied huskily. “It was something.”
Kristin didn’t want to recall that heated encounter. She needed to focus on the fact that he’d bodily hauled her away from her parents’ bar and tossed her into the back of the limo like he had every right to do so.
She took a deep breath, unable to stop her body from reacting to his scent. It was everywhere in the vehicle, a tantalizing aroma that made her think of mint, musky sandalwood, and pure, unadulterated sex.
Not. Going. There.
She wrestled with her instinct to cross the space between them, straddle his body, and find out how intoxicating it would be to have full-body contact with a man who probably knew exactly how to please a woman.
“You really expect me to believe that you detoured all the way to the East Coast just so you could have a date? You have women falling all over you in California. Why couldn’t you just pick one of them? I’m not your type, and I’m certainly not a woman you’d want to be seen and photographed with, Hotshot.”
She resorted to using the nickname she’d given him from the first day they’d met. He’d nonchalantly referred to her as “Red,” a nickname she’d always hated. So she’d come up with one to sling back at him. Not so much because he’d been arrogant—although he definitely was—but it reminded her that she had nothing in common with him.