by Zante, Lily
“You know what,” she said, looking at her watch and feigning surprise. “It is late and I need to go.” It wasn’t late at all, but the conversation had died two minutes after she’d stopped Luke in his tracks, and it was only getting worse. Most guys wouldn’t need so much cajoling, but this guy? He wasn’t interested at all. Those moments on the island had passed. Whatever it was she thought she had felt, under the influence of pink champagne, and heady cocktails, under a starry sky, with powdery sand between her toes—those moments were gone. And she had been deluded. If he’d given her any time, it was because it was his job. He was a barman simply doing his job. She was completely deluded in trying to recapture the magic from the island.
Not only did he not look remotely excited about seeing her again, but he seemed to resent being asked to make her that cocktail.
He scratched his neck again. “Now that you’re here, why not?” His demeanor changed in a flash and she assumed he felt sorry for her. She didn’t like the idea of that, and it would have been different if he’d shown any interest when she’d first accosted him.
“Another time,” she said, determined to leave quickly. “You seem busy, and I shouldn’t have imposed.”
His expression softened. “You’re here now, and it won’t take long. I could do with a drink myself.”
Chapter 7
He knew she was going to show up, and he’d been surprised she hadn’t shown up within the first few days after returning from the wedding.
But, what the hell. It was Friday night.
He should have been annoyed, as he often was when a woman he’d met someplace else tracked him down and assumed he was interested in her. But once again, Kay elicited a touch of pity from him, more than his anger. She always seemed wanting.
“What do you want, boss? I’ll get it for you.” One of the bartenders asked him as he went behind the bar.
“A friend of mine just showed up,” he said, reaching for a cocktail glass. He quickly fixed Kay’s cocktail and grabbed a small bottle of lemonade for himself.
When he walked back to her table, she was on her cell phone.
“Your ex again?” he asked, grateful to have remembered something to strike up a conversation about. These kinds of meetings were awkward. Kay had come here because she was interested in seeing him, because she probably had something in mind. Women didn’t just turn up, alone, to have a drink and admire the surroundings.
“No,” she replied, hastily putting the phone away. “Thank you,” she said, as he set the glass down in front of her, then sat across from her. “You’re not having a cocktail?”
“No. Cheers.” He lifted his bottle and touched her cocktail glass with it.
She took a sip. “This reminds me of the island.”
“You like reliving memories, huh?”
She flashed him a flirtatious smile, her mascara’d eyes wide open and shiny. “It was an unforgettable wedding. I had a great time.”
“It was work for me,” he told her.
“You didn’t enjoy yourself at all?”
He stared at her, knowing she was fishing for something. What did she want him to say? That he’d had a great time talking to her and that he wished they could take things further. He didn’t wish for anything of the sort, but it was what she was probably hoping for.
It was the furthest thing from his mind. “It was work, and I had to deliver. You can’t do a job for Tobias Stone and mess it up.”
“No you can’t. But you did great, and I presume he’s very happy.”
“He hasn’t complained yet.” And that was a good sign. Though right now, Tobias was most likely busy doing other things. Relaxing, he hoped. The guy didn’t get much down time, and after what had happened to him in the past, it was good to see him having a turn for the better.
“I bet he and Savannah are sitting under the stars and making plans for the future.”
“Or they’re having a lot of sex,” he quipped, getting straight to the heart of it.
She laughed. “That’s my idea of heaven.”
“Having a lot of sex?”
The color rose in her cheeks. “Sitting under the stars and talking.”
Typical woman.
“Anyway,” she said, holding up her cocktail glass. “What’s in it?”
“It’s a variation of a fresh orange juice and vodka and Southern Comfort liqueur and other stuff.”
“A slow comfortable screw up against the wall,” she repeated, not even blushing as she said the words. Didn’t sound to him as if she was naming the cocktail either. This woman didn’t bat an eyelid. She didn't hold back or do any of that subtle flirting shit. She was shameless and said it like it was, and he liked that. Though she was going to be hard to shake, and he hoped him having a drink with her—out of politeness, and because she was the cousin of Tobias Stone’s new wife—didn’t put any ideas in her head. He hoped this would be the last he saw of her, because he couldn’t start anything with her, a short-term encounter, or one wild night in bed. While he could break his own self-imposed rules, and allow himself to become temporarily distracted by her, his brain gave him all the reasons not to indulge this eager woman’s whims.
He was only being polite. After all, she’d come here with a colleague from work, as she’d said, then hopefully she would bring other PAs and secretaries next, and, maybe, their bosses. This was how word-of-mouth spread.
And he was only going to make small talk and have one drink with her.
“You came here with a friend?” he asked, not sure whether to believe her or not.
“Yes, I told you. I came with Erin.” She blinked, then frowned. “You think I came here alone, don’t you?” She looked around the room. “Ask him,” she said, pointing to one of the servers. “Ask him if you don’t believe me.” Something about his assumption had ticked her off.
“I believe you. It’s no big deal,” he said, not understanding why she was getting so riled up about the matter.
“I’m not that desperate that I’d come here alone, just to see you.”
Okay.
“My friend and I wanted to come for a drink, and I thought I’d check out where you worked.”
“Okay. I hear you.” He lifted his bottle again. “Do you feel better now, now that you’ve explained?”
“Yes.” She let out a sigh as she lifted the glass to her cherry red lips. He hadn’t remembered her lips being so red before, and he guessed that she had touched up her lipstick while he’d gone to get the drinks. “She wanted me to tell her about the wedding, and then she left.”
A long awkward pause followed, until she asked, “How long have you worked here?”
“A couple of years.” He had started building his empire four, almost five years ago and now had a handful of bars, and a club. This place, The Oasis was the only one that had a club, The Vault, in the basement of the building, it was an upscale establishment, and entry to it was by membership only.
“And how do you know Xavier?”
“Because he comes here a lot.”
She didn’t say anything, which was probably just as well, given that she didn’t know how tight he and Xavier were. He knew more about Xavier’s life than his friend knew about his, and as such, it was often the case that Xavier came to him for advice more than he needed to bother Xavier with his problems. This was how he liked things to be. Just the same way as he was happy for Kay to think he was a bartender. Sometimes girls figured out who he was much earlier, and that skewed the way they saw him. At least Kay seemed keen on him without knowing much about him.
“I wish I’d found this place sooner,” she said. “It’s given me that vacation vibe again.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, “And make sure you tell your friends.”
“I will.”
He took a final sip of his drink and threw her a cursory glance. She was conservatively dressed in a dark suit, she looked sharp, and slick. Professional. She looked so much more attractive in her work
clothes, all covered up. It gave her a polished appearance, particularly with her breasts not falling out of her top.
He didn’t have her down for being an average secretary. Maybe she was a PA to someone high up, because, looking at her handbag, tucked away against her hip on the sofa, he knew a bag like that was expensive. So was her watch, and her hair was done up nicely in a messy bun, not hanging all over her shoulders.
He had a pretty good eye for people, because it was his job to notice these tiny things. “It was good to see you again,” he said, making the decision to leave. He’d done his bit. Showed her some attention, made her the cocktail, along with appropriate small talk. He could just as easily sit here talking to her all night, because the more time he spent with her, he realized she wasn’t just a vacuous customer talking to him with the intention of enticing him into something. Maybe she had come here with a friend, and was after a few cocktails and nothing more.
She seemed disappointed at his announcement. “It was good to see you.”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t going to say anything else.
She paused, briefly. “I had a good time on the island.”
He could tell that she was waiting for him to make a move, or say something. Let her know he was interested. Most women who sought him out here, did the same, but with Kay things were trickier because of her connection to Tobias Stone. He didn’t want to rock any boats with the Stones, and he never mixed business with pleasure.
Her eyes met his, and he could tell that she was interested. She was waiting for him to say something, or do something.
But as tempting as she was, he wasn’t willing to make that mistake.
Chapter 8
The lying rat.
Anger bubbled under her skin, as she craned her neck forward, re-reading the bio on the club’s website.
Luke Hunter—that was his name—wasn’t a bartender at all.
He was the multi-millionaire owner of several establishments in the city, and he was the son of a Texan oil baron.
Of course, she had also lied, by telling him that she was a secretary and not an investment banker, but it was hardly an epic lie.
She sat back, gazing at the photo on the screen, her anger rising to the surface as she wondered why he hadn’t shown any interest in her when she had finally turned up at the place he worked, which she now knew to be the bar he owned.
Those same cool blue eyes stared back at her, except this time he wore a white shirt, rolled up at the cuffs, and his hair seemed longer, less copper colored and more blonde, as if he’d been on a surfing vacation. He had the whole-sun kissed thing going on, and she wondered where he’d caught the sun in that picture and who he’d been kissing.
Just looking at his face gave her palpitations. Luke Hunter was the kind of man that women noticed—most women, except for her. Freakin’ hell. How had she managed to bypass him for Xavier on the island?
Her curiosity dug deep, and she now found herself wondering why he had lied. Who would lie about being a multi-millionaire?
But he ticked all of her boxes. All of them, and now her interest in him had quadrupled. The problem was, she had to figure out what his hold-up was. Most men liked that she didn’t play too hard to get. This guy? He didn’t seem to notice her. For all the signals she’d put out, she had received none back from him.
At least she now had a membership to The Vault. She’d paid a ridiculous yearly fee to join, and hoped it would be worth it. It had already proved its worth, thinking about it, because it had been then that she had snooped around the website and found the picture of Luke.
Being a member, she could get a group of her friends to come along. Geoffrey had expressed an interest, and because she owed him for taking care of things during her vacation, it seemed only right for her to ask him along.
And that was how, the following week, a night out at The Vault came to be. She had already made up her mind to go upstairs to The Oasis at some point during the night, in order to seek Luke out and confront him.
Tonight, she was determined to find out, but even as she had walked into the club, into his domain, and knew that she would run into him soon, she suddenly experienced an unfamiliar emotion. A tremor of hesitation slowed her down.
She didn’t want to dance around, flirting and talking, and hoping he would ask her out, nor did she want a rejection thrown back in her face. She couldn’t even talk to Savannah about it on her return from her honeymoon, because she was supposed to be on that man-free diet.
By 11 o'clock on Friday night, they had already spent two hours in the rooftop bar. She had seen no sign of Luke anywhere. Disappointed, she let her hair down and went straight onto the dance floor, leaving Geoffrey at the table with a few of their colleagues.
She spent the night between bouts of sipping cocktails at their table and trying to make conversation despite the loud music, and dancing on one of the podiums with her colleagues. It was while she was taking a breather, and sipping her drink, that she saw Luke in the distance.
There was something about attraction, some subtle, invisible force that allowed her to pick him out from a group, even in dimmed lighting. She was able to locate him like a targeted heat seeking missile in a place heaving with people.
He was in his familiar black T-shirt and pants—his uniform, she assumed, now that she knew better—and he was talking to someone behind the bar. More than talking, he was laughing, and smiling with a pretty young waitress.
Jealousy pierced through her, and for a moment she froze, not knowing what to do, what to make of this or how to approach him. She wasn’t even sure it was still a good idea to confront him about his obvious lie. He owed her nothing, and from the way he had been with her the last time, showing no interest, she was suddenly unsure again.
But he’s in his working environment, she reasoned, knocking back another sip of her drink. It was a valid question to ask him. Not many people, in her opinion, would lie about being multi-millionaires.
Anger, fueled by his lie, gave her a devil-may-care attitude which bolstered her further. That, along with a pinch of recklessness that seemed fitting for a Friday night, made her get up in order to seek him out.
“Where are you going?” Geoffrey’s shrill voice reached her ears as she stood up. He tried to grab her hand but she pulled hers away, disliking the overfamiliarity. “I've seen someone I know,” she said, trying to shake off the cutting edge to her voice, trying to make it sound more blasé. She walked away, not even looking behind her, and her stomach did a peculiar turn as she saw Luke howl with laughter with the pretty little waitress.
“What can I get you?” the girl asked her.
Kay ignored her and looked at Luke, who stood on her side of the bar. “Hi,” she said, and watched his brow wrinkle together for a split second. She suddenly feared that he wouldn’t even be able to recall her name. The loud music didn’t help.
“You found The Vault,” he said, raising his voice so that she could hear.
“Yes.”
When he said nothing else, she wondered if he even remembered her name.
“It’s me, Kay. Savannah’s cousin.”
“I know who you are. My memory isn’t that lousy.”
“I brought more work colleagues along,” she told him.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I see that. Thanks.”
“I should be on commission,” she offered, cheekily.
“Maybe you should.”
“I applied for membership.”
“It’s the only way you get to come here.”
“Or unless a member invites you,” she reminded him.
“Or that.” He smiled. “Someone’s been reading our T’s and C’s.”
“I read every page on your website.”
“That’s eagerness for you.”
She was tempted to ask him now, about his hidden identity, but the music was loud, and it was busy. She leaned towards him. “I never expected it to be such an exclusive club.”
&nbs
p; “It works, for our clientele.”
The whole conversation had been around nothing in particular. Nothing interesting. She was seriously beginning to wonder if he might be gay because she couldn’t detect a single interested vibe coming from the guy.
And yet, looking at him, slowly set her pulse and heart beat racing. The music was loud in the background, and she had to listen carefully to catch everything he was saying, so she touched his arm, and shouted into his ear, not wanting to have that conversation here, or shout her way through the conversation.
“I need to ask you something. Mind if we move over there?” she asked, pointing to what looked like a hallway leading off from one side of the bar.
His puzzled frown didn’t escape her, but he moved, and she followed.
“Is something wrong?”
“You lied,” she said, hurling the accusation at him. Yet, saying those words out loud made her suddenly conscious about the ridiculousness of her confrontation.
“About what?”
“You’re not a bartender. You own this place, and the bar upstairs.”
“I own a lot of bars.”
“As I’ve discovered.” Damn. She sounded like a gold-digger, and this hadn’t been the intent of her accusation.
He lifted his chin, looking defiant. His eyes, the color not as obvious now in the dim light of the hallway, blazed down at her. “Have you been snooping on me online?”
“I was getting membership for the club, and I was curious.”
“What were you looking for?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied. “But what I found was interesting.”
“Like what?”
She would have given anything then for the gift of telepathy, to know what he was thinking. A shiver skated over her, and she wasn’t sure if it was from a feeling of humiliation she was trying to downplay, or from the way his voice, low and husky, rolled through her, setting off balloons of wishful thinking inside her fickle head.