by Lee McKenzie
“You need a permit for everything.”
No kidding. Taxes, licenses, permits. Some days it felt as if everyone wanted a piece of her pie.
The door opened and a boisterous group of college-age men came in, laughing and talking. They shoved two tables together and settled themselves into chairs.
“Excuse me a minute,” Jess said to the woman at the bar. She was pretty sure some of these young guys had been in before, but she checked everyone’s ID anyway. “What I can get you?”
“Two pitchers of Bud,” one of them said.
“Better make that three.”
The others nodded their agreement.
Great.
“How about some nachos?” one of them asked.
“Yeah, good idea. Do you have nachos?”
“You bet,” Jess said. “One order?”
“Better make it two to start with.”
“You’ve got it.” She liked the sound of “to start with,” even though it meant she could end up with a group of drunk college boys on her hands. She could handle them, but they’d still be a pain in the butt.
Behind the bar she set a pitcher under the tap, and while it filled she put half a dozen glasses on a tray. After she topped up the pitcher and moved it onto the tray, she filled another. The woman sitting at the end of the bar was watching her and it made her a little uncomfortable, although she wasn’t sure why. She set the second pitcher next to the first, hoisted the tray off the counter and carried it to the already raucous group.
“Two nachos and another pitcher coming right up,” she said after she served the beer.
Their animated discussion about a sporting event rendered them oblivious.
By the time she served their food, two of the three pitchers had already been consumed. “Would you like another?” she asked as she picked up the empties.
“Yeah.”
“Keep ’em coming.”
It was going to be a long afternoon.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked the woman at the bar.
“No, thanks. How much do I owe you?”
Jess rang in the beer and panini and handed the check to her.
She took out a slim leather wallet that matched her handbag and extracted a couple of bills. “Here you go. Keep the change.” She glanced at the table of college boys as she tucked her wallet away. “Do you always work alone?”
“Oh. No, not all the time. My part-time bartender will be in this afternoon.”
“That’s good. I imagine some customers can be a bit of a challenge.”
“They can, but I’ve never had a problem.” Learning how to handle jerks had been the one good thing that had come from her hellish childhood. Being here on her own bothered her from time to time, but the bar was rarely busy during the daytime, even on a Saturday. Most drunks were easy to handle—they just needed to be humored, and the difficult ones were no match for a sober person with kick-ass self-defense skills.
“Well, it was nice to meet you. Great sandwich, by the way. And good luck with your renovation plans. I hope that works out for you.”
“Sure, thanks.”
Instead of leaving, though, she went into the women’s restroom.
Damn it. All Jess could do now was keep her fingers crossed that the one functioning toilet didn’t malfunction.
One of the rowdy, beer-swilling young men waved an arm at her. “Hey, barkeep. Can we get another couple of jugs over here?” That was followed by a round of laughter and applause.
She sighed and reached for a pitcher. At moments like this even she questioned the wisdom of trying to keep this business afloat. She scanned the room and pictured a crowd of elegantly dressed professionals seated on turquoise vinyl and sipping martinis. First thing Monday she would call the bank and see if she could light a fire under somebody.
MICHAEL PACED ACROSS the living room of his Nob Hill apartment, phone in hand, waiting for Lexi’s call. This kind of downtime was rare, and it wasn’t by choice.
His email in-box was empty. Ginny had sent the final proofs of the labels for the new wine, and he had approved them. She had also sent a draft of the winery’s next newsletter. He had read and made some suggestions on that.
Drew Attwell had forwarded a status update on the purchase of new bottling equipment for the winery. Michael had replied with a question and a couple of comments.
He had called the manager of the wine bar at the wharf to reserve a table for dinner with Jess on Thursday evening, and then he’d started laying the groundwork for his plan to persuade her to sell her business. He’d spoken to his real estate agent and arranged to pick up the keys for the Folsom Street building. It was a long shot, but showing it to Jess might garner some empathy. Then he would take her to Morgan’s at the Wharf, and she was sure to be impressed. Who wouldn’t?
Thinking ahead to that evening was making him impatient. What was taking Lexi so long? This project was in limbo until he found out what she thought of his plan to acquire the Whiskey Sour and to find out if she’d come up with a strategy for making an offer that the present owner couldn’t refuse.
He checked his watch. One o’clock and still no call. He was sure she would have wrapped this up by now. Lexi was a stickler for detail, but even so he couldn’t imagine what the holdup might be.
He sat down and opened his laptop to check his email. Nothing. He snapped it shut again and strode across the living room to the bay window. The rain that had been falling since early that morning had grayed out the view from his top-floor apartment. He might have bought a place in the city long ago if this classic old Nob Hill apartment hadn’t met his needs and been so comfortable. Vanessa had been all for helping him find the perfect place, but he had stalled, knowing that shopping for real estate together would have her thinking it was their perfect place instead of just his.
His mood was starting to match the weather. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues. His father had often cautioned him about rushing ahead to get things done. Good things come to those who wait.
Good things also came to those who made them happen.
He was debating whether or not to call his sister when his phone rang. It was about time.
“Lexi?”
“Hi, Michael. How’s it go—”
“This took longer than expected. Is there a problem?” He regretted the words the moment they spilled out.
“Jeez. You’re welcome. Don’t mention it.”
“I’m sorry. That was out of line.” He forced himself to stop pacing. “I appreciate everything you’re doing. I hope you know that.”
“Of course I do. And this might have taken longer than you expected, but I had planned to spend all morning at the building on Folsom Street. And it was good to be there on such a wet day because I saw firsthand just how bad the roof is.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “Did you have time to drop by the Whiskey Sour?”
“I did.” She didn’t continue.
“And…?” She knew he was anxious to hear what she thought, and that gave her the chance to push his buttons by making him wait. She’d been doing this since they were kids, and his reaction was her payoff every time. “You met Jess? What did you think?”
“I thought you wanted my assessment of the building.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you asking what I think of her?”
“I’m not.”
Lexi laughed. “Yes, you are. And for the record, I really like her. I’ll also tell you that you’ve got a good shot at buying the building or at landing the girl, but there’s no way you’ll get both.”
Where was this coming from? “What makes you think I want both?”
Lexi laughed. “I understand why you wanted me to look at the other locations—none of them have ever been a bar or a restaurant and they’ll need a lot of work and money to turn them into one—but you didn’t need me to look at her building to know it’s a much better prospect. The Whiskey Sour is already a bar, so
all the bones are there. Sure, it needs work, but a lot of it is cosmetic.”
Okay, he liked the sound of that. As for the owner…
“Seriously, Lex. What makes you think I want both?” This was business. Sure, Jess was attractive—beautiful, really—and dating her would be a nice change from the Vanessas of the world, but he wanted the bar. Besides, Jess wasn’t his type.
Who are you kidding? His “type” was a gold-digging social climber, and he was tired of them. Jess was no more interested in social status than she was in him. Oddly enough, that made her more attractive. Damned hot, actually.
“What makes me think you want both?” Lexi asked. “Hmm, let’s see. She’s gorgeous. She has something you want. You’ve never been known to back away from a challenge. All the signs are there, bro, but you have to make a decision.”
His mother doled out dating advice all the time, but Lexi? This was new. And as fascinated as he was with Jess, she was not his top priority. “I want the building,” he said. And he meant it.
“All right. If that’s what you want, I’ll help you get it. If you change your mind and decide you’d rather have the bartender, you should buy the building on Folsom Street.”
Jess must have made quite an impression on her. “What are your thoughts on how I should approach this when I see her on Thursday?”
“She doesn’t have a clue about running a business. Only one toilet in the women’s washroom is working, and that’s against code. Her business license has expired, or if it’s been renewed, the new one hasn’t been posted. And she’s talking about borrowing money to renovate the place but didn’t know she needs a building permit if she’s going to move ahead with that. I have a meeting at city hall on Monday, so I’ll poke around and ask a few discreet questions while I’m there.”
City hall. Interesting. He hadn’t thought of that angle, but with Lexi’s connections, they might be able to nix Jess’s chance of getting a permit, or at least keep her tied up in red tape long enough that she’d have no choice but to sell. He brushed aside a twinge of guilt and reminded himself he’d be doing her a favor. She would walk away from this deal with a sizable chunk of change, and he’d have the perfect place for Morgan’s South of Market.
“How long were you there?” he asked. “Did you have a chance to look around?”
“Long enough to have a beer and a sandwich.”
“Was the place busy?”
“No. A friend of hers was leaving when I arrived, then it was just me until a group of frat boys came in.”
Interesting. It hadn’t seemed like a college hangout.
“She was having some kind of plumbing disaster, and then the college boys were being…well…boys. It takes a gutsy woman to work alone in a bar.”
A sense of something approaching apprehension tightened his chest. She’d been working alone the day he’d dropped in, but he hadn’t considered the ramifications. Those two old-timers—Larry and Bill—were as protective of Jess as her grandfather would have been. She seemed confident and secure in her surroundings, but working alone in a place like that, in that neighborhood, could definitely be dangerous. Even for a woman who was trained in self-defense.
“Did you get the impression there could be a problem?” Maybe he should drive over there on some pretext or other.
“I got the impression that anybody who gives her any trouble is going to get his ass kicked. And she did mention that another bartender would be there tonight.”
“That’s good,” he said, trying to imagine what her reaction would be if he dared go in and check up on her. Somebody’s ass would get kicked, all right.
“I have to get back to my office, Michael. Do you still want my report on the Folsom Street building or are you going after the Whiskey Sour instead?”
Lexi made his business strategies sound cold and impersonal when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Jess was struggling to keep her business afloat. Selling it to him would solve her problem and his. “Yes, I should have the report on hand, just in case—”
“In case you get the girl instead?”
He laughed lightly. “You and Mom have more in common than you’d like to believe.”
“Ha-ha. I need to add a few more specs and finish up a couple of sketches, then I’ll email my report to you early in the week.”
“Thanks, Lexi.”
He set his phone on the coffee table next to his laptop and paced across the living room a couple of times, processing everything his sister had said. Especially the part about getting the building or getting Jess, but not both. He knew what he wanted, and when he made up his mind to do something, failure was not an option.
Spending time with Jess was just an added bonus. She was smart, she made him laugh, she didn’t seem at all interested in his money and she was an eyeful. That didn’t mean he wanted her, not in the sense Lexi meant, but since meeting her last Saturday night, he had thought a lot about being with her. Any man would have been attracted to her in that strapless gown. She had been ridiculously awkward about how much creamy-white skin was on display and intent on not showing any cleavage.
The next time he’d seen her, the smooth skin and subtle curves had been hidden beneath boy’s clothing, and her confidence and lack of guile were downright sexy. Would he like to be the one to teach her that she was a beautiful sexy woman who had a body that deserved to be celebrated? Hell, yes. As arrogant as that sounded, even inside his own head, he had the experience to know what she needed, and that he could give it to her. Even thinking about it was a turn-on and he was a man of action, which meant that hanging around here at loose ends was a dangerous thing. Dropping in on her right now was the last thing he should do, and the thing he wanted to do most.
Best to put a little distance between them. He grabbed his phone and speed dialed the house in Napa Valley.
“Mom?” he said when she answered. “It’s Michael. I have some work to catch up on this weekend and I thought I’d do it at home. I hope that’s okay with you.”
“Of course. Is everything okay?”
“Couldn’t be better. Too many distractions, though.” At least that part was true. “I’ll work better at home.”
“Will you be here for dinner?” Her voice sounded hopeful. “We’ll eat around six if that’s okay with you. Ben will be thrilled.”
“Dinner will be great. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.” Before his impatience got the best of him.
Chapter Six
On Thursday evening Jess dashed into the Whiskey Sour half an hour before Michael was due to arrive. When she’d started getting ready, this had just been dinner. A business meeting. The longer she fussed, the more it felt like a date. She had started with a soak in the tub, but refrained from shaving her legs. Date or no date, his legs were not going to encounter hers.
Three times she’d applied and removed eye shadow, and each time it was either too dark or too lopsided or just plain too trashy. She finally gave up and settled for mascara. Her hair was a similar story. Leaving it down always seemed to attract too much attention. She tried leaving some down and sweeping the top and sides back, but the clip kept sliding sideways. In the end she had brushed it all into her usual ponytail and fastened it with an elastic. After that she’d spent far too much time ironing a crease into a pair of slacks, and then she’d broken down and shaved her legs anyway, all the while telling herself she was wasting her time because this was not a date.
The bar was actually busy, for a change. Okay, not busy, but busier than usual. Two couples shared a table by the front windows. Three young men were huddled around a pitcher of beer at another table. Larry and Bill occupied their usual stools at the corner of the bar, even though it was well past their usual departure time. No need to ask why they were still hanging around. She plunked her backpack on the bar and shrugged out of her windbreaker. After she pulled off her helmet, she shook out her ponytail.
Eric was behind the bar, filling small white bowls with salted peanuts.
He stopped midpour and looked her up and down. “I thought you had a date tonight.”
“It’s not a date. I’m going out for dinner.”
“And that’s what you’re wearing?”
“She looks pretty good to me,” Bill said.
Larry nodded his agreement.
“Thank you,” she said to her two best customers, making a face at Eric. “I went shopping with Paige and she helped me pick out this sweater set.”
Eric set the jar of peanuts on the counter and gave her his you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “You expect me to believe this—” he made a sweeping head-to-toe gesture in Jess’s direction “—this was Paige’s first choice for a dinner date?”
“Not her first choice.” Paige’s first choice had been a sleeveless red cocktail dress that required panty hose and shoes that were not sneakers. More specifically the shoes she’d had to endure at Rory’s wedding, but no way was she was wearing those torture devices again.
Paige’s next choice had been a too-short skirt that revealed too much leg. Her third had been a slinky emerald-green satin camisole that put too much emphasis on her lack of cleavage. Paige said it actually turned that deficiency into an asset, but Jess wasn’t buying it. Not the compliment, such as it was, and definitely not the skimpy, overpriced camisole. She had settled on a soft apple-green sweater set she could wear with the slim-fitting black pants she’d bought two years ago to wear to her grandfather’s funeral. The sweaters had been expensive enough, even though they were on sale. And they were practical. Sort of.
The bank was still giving her the runaround over the loan, and as of this afternoon she had just enough money in her account to pay her liquor suppliers, Eric’s wages and next month’s rent on her apartment. If tonight’s patrons hung around and ordered a couple more rounds of drinks, she might even scrape together enough to pay the phone bill.
“There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing. Paige says it’s a good color for me, and she let me borrow a purse—” She hauled the black-and-green tapestry handbag out of her backpack and opened it. “And these.” She pulled out two necklaces. “One casual and one dressy. Once I find out where we’re going, I’m supposed to tell him I need a few minutes to get ready, go into my office and put on the appropriate jewelry.”