A few rebellious locks broke rank and slipped back over his brow, adding a boyish charm to his otherwise severe profile. The impulse to brush the strands off of his forehead was so strong she had to clench her fists at her sides to resist.
Picking up the drink tray, he said, “I’ll be right back for my drink. A double shot of Crown.” He turned, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Make it a Budweiser, instead.” Sunny didn’t understand the humor behind his drink request, but based on the glint in his eye and the lopsided grin, the thought of drinking a beer amused him.
As he strode across the hardwood floor toward the waiting women, Sunny stood on tiptoes to get a better view of the full package. An off-white, form-fitting shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and hugged thick biceps, while black, tailor-made slacks hung from a trim waist and encased a nice, tight ass.
Yowzer. She snagged a piece of ice from the cooler and swept it down the side of her neck and across the sharp ridge of her collarbone.
“Damn, girlie. Didn’t take much for that fella to get you all hot and bothered.”
Sunny scrunched her eyes shut, hunched her shoulders, and hunkered down her head. She’d been so caught up in Gavin, she hadn’t thought about Joe and Ed sitting at the end of the bar. Those two old geezers never missed a thing, and they’d be milking this cow forever.
She laughed at the mental image she had of Gavin, stripped, lying on the sacrificial altar of her bar, doused in whipped cream. If she were going to get grief for her actions, wouldn’t it be fun to give them something truly amazing to talk about?
Chapter Two
Callie narrowed her eyes and glared at the bartender as she stood on tiptoes to watch Gavin walk away. Ogling was bad enough. But when she grabbed a piece of ice and ran it along the side of her neck, like she would die of heat stroke if she didn’t cool down, Callie rolled her eyes and huffed, “Oh, please.”
Granted, Gavin was the hottest thing ever. But, really… what a slut.
The ice snagged the bartender’s necklace, causing it to shift and reflect the light. It was a strange piece of jewelry, and Callie squinted, trying for a better look. A chain made of diamonds—cubic zirconium, no doubt—circled her neck, then dipped into her highly exposed cleavage before—“Ohmigod.” Callie’s hand flew to her throat, and her eyes popped wide open.
“What’s wrong?” Jen and Tiffany asked in unison.
Shocked, and possibly traumatized for life, Callie whispered, “Look at the bartender’s necklace.”
Her friends craned their necks around to peer over their shoulders. Their eyes narrowed, then simultaneously widened. Tiffany said, “Oh. My. God, is right,” while Jen said, “That is so cool.”
For a second, Callie thought she’d misunderstood Jen. Then she considered the source. She and Jen didn’t live in the same moral zip code, and it figured Jen would have that kind of reaction. Callie shook her head. “I should've known you'd like it.”
“What?” Jen said, sitting straighter and pulling her shoulders back. “It’s just a nipple necklace. They have them at Benedetti’s.” As if being carried by one of Myrtle Beach’s exclusive boutiques made it okay. “I’ve always wondered how they’d feel.” Speaking more to herself than to Callie or Tiffany, she murmured, “I might have to go there tomorrow and get one.”
Tiffany looked at Jen with something akin to hero worship. “How does it work?”
Jen, the group’s resident expert on everything perverse, said, “It goes around her neck, like a necklace. But instead of falling down the middle of her cleavage and stopping, like most necklaces, it splits into two separate pieces and the ends either attach to piercings or clip around the nipples.
Callie shuddered and wrapped her arms around her chest. “That is so…” Gross, frightening, slutty… painful.
“You are such a prude.”
Callie’s gasp was sharp and loud, like Jen had tossed a bucket of ice in her face. “I-I am not.” The denial lacked conviction, and Callie looked to Tiffany for help. “Do you think I’m a prude?”
Tiffany’s eyes widened and pink crept over her cheeks. “I’m not the one to ask about that.”
True, Tiffany only had one lover, the guy she dated for three years in college. Since their breakup, she’d sworn off sex, intending to stay celibate until marriage. She was “re-virginizing” herself. Whatever that meant.
Jen leaned across the table and squeezed Callie’s arm. “I’m sorry, hun. You’re not a prude. You’re just… well…” She scrunched up her face, searching for the right word, then sighed and grimaced. “Maybe a little prudish.”
Callie flipped her gaze to Gavin, who’d stopped to study the playlist on the jukebox. “Do you think Gavin thinks I’m a prude?”
Jen released Callie’s arm and sat back in her chair, while Tiffany played with the snap on her handbag. Callie looked from one to the other. “Does that mean yes?”
“Honestly, Cal,” Jen said with a huff. “I don’t think Gavin spends much time thinking about you, period.”
A sharp pain ripped through Callie’s chest and her eyes stung. Jen could be a coldhearted bitch at times, and Callie wondered why she maintained the friendship.
“He’s just focused on his career right now,” Tiffany said in a soft, patronizing tone that made Callie feel like a charity case.
Why was she asking them about Gavin, anyway? They didn’t know him, or know what he thought about. Besides, he might not even want her to wear a necklace like that. Lowlife construction workers might get turned on by that kind of thing, but probably not a sophisticated man like Gavin.
He pushed away from the jukebox and closed the distance to their table. As he set the drinks before them, Callie gathered her courage and said, “Gavin? What do you think of the bartender’s necklace?”
Tiffany’s eyes popped wider than Callie had ever seen them, and Jen sat stone-still. It was out of character for Callie to be this bold, but it was obvious she needed to step up her efforts to snag Gavin’s attention.
He set the third drink on the table and turned around. “What neck—” The words died off as his eyes widened slightly and his mouth dropped open.
Jen laughed and held up her shot glass. “Guess that answers that.” She threw back the screaming orgasm and returned her glass to the tray… The tray that lay forgotten while Gavin stared at the bartender.
Okay, Jen might be right about the necklace. In which case, she’d go with her to Benedetti’s tomorrow. She could adapt for Gavin. Although, unlike the skanky bartender, who showed off the erotic jewelry for the entire world to see, Callie would keep it hidden under her clothes as her naughty secret…one she would hopefully be able to share with Gavin.
Determined to shed the prudish image she’d accidentally obtained, Callie stroked her fingernail down his forearm and said, “Watch how I take care of this blowjob?” She clasped her hands behind her back, wrapped her lips around the rim of the glass, and closed her eyes.
The position was awkward, and she was terrified she looked like an idiot. But she’d seen girls do this before, and guys always liked it. If the suggestive move helped her win Gavin’s attention, she’d do it.
She imagined the two of them alone, her lips wrapped around him, bringing him pleasure. In one fluid motion, she threw her head back, and sent the liquid spilling down her throat.
Anticipation swirled through her as she pulled the glass from her mouth, licked her lips, and opened her eyes. But Gavin wasn’t standing there, looking at her with great appreciation, as she’d expected.
In fact, he wasn’t standing there at all. He’d left their table and was walking around the perimeter of the bar, appearing genuinely interested in the despicable artwork hanging on the walls.
Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she pressed her lips together to stop the quivering in her chin. She tilted her head back and blinked until the waterworks subsided. Humiliating herself was bad enough. She would not add to that humiliation by having rui
ned makeup. When she had the tears under control, she slammed the glass onto the table and folded her arms across her chest.
“I think we need more drinks,” Jen said.
Tiffany nodded. “I agree.” She gave Callie a cheery smile and added, “Let’s go back to margaritas.”
The three of them had spent the afternoon drinking more pitchers of the frozen drink than they could count. Callie had stopped drinking a couple of hours before Gavin arrived, thinking it would be wise to be sober for the drive so she and Gavin could carry on nice, meaningful conversation.
Except he hadn’t been interested in conversation—nice, meaningful, or otherwise. And she’d tried everything. She talked about Holden’s new developments. She asked him questions about his current projects. She’d shown an interest in his family, his college days, his high school days, and everything else she could think of.
All she’d gotten for her efforts was a few caveman-type grunts and then nothing but tense silence.
“Margaritas are definitely the way to go,” she agreed.
She pulled her cellphone from her handbag and typed a cryptic message to Gavin. If he were going to be rude and walk away from her, she’d be rude in return. When she finished sending the text, she returned her attention to the blond bartender.
Callie needed to start being realistic and logical about Gavin. It was painful to admit, but in the car, he’d been as rigid as a diamond. But as he conversed with the bartender, he visibly relaxed and was completely enthralled with the woman.
Watching him rest the weight of his upper body on his forearms, while leaning across the bar toward the blonde, made Callie ache. He’d never shown that much interest in anything she had to say. But the biggest shock had been watching him laugh. Normally serious and focused on work, Callie had never seen him cut loose like that.
What did the bartender possess that Callie didn’t? It certainly wasn’t class. Huge silver hooped earrings hung from her ears, and about a hundred bracelets lined her wrist. Then there was the necklace and the low-cut revealing halter-top.
Callie looked down at her conservative silk top, and her heart sunk. Jen was right. She was a prude.
Without being too obvious, she turned her head and studied Gavin. Maybe it was time to give up. How many years had she been at this without getting any closer? The problem was, she’d dreamt of a life with Gavin for so long, she didn’t know how to want anything else.
No, she wasn’t a quitter. She just needed to try harder.
***
While pondering the relationship between Gavin and the women, Sunny wondered if the brunette might be his sister. But after watching that painful attempt at seduction, the answer was obviously no.
Sunny actually felt sorry for the woman, who tried her best to put on a show for Gavin. But as soon as she dropped her mouth over the glass, he walked away.
“I’ll go over there and watch her suck on that glass.” Sunny’s brother Robby’s mouth twisted wryly. “Or anything else she’d like to suck on.”
Robby was a typical twenty-year-old male. Anything in a skirt caught his attention. A short skirt, big boobs, thick, flirty lashes, and long, red fingernails were the same as a hook through the lip reeling him in. “Don’t you have glasses to wash?”
Robby crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter. “Nope.” He smiled smugly. “Besides, from what I hear, there’s a good show out here that I shouldn’t miss.”
There wasn’t any point in denying the accusation, since everyone had witnessed her dog-in-heat imitation. She turned away from Robby and dug into the cooler for Gavin’s Budweiser. The chilled air cooled her heated cheeks and tempted her to keep her head buried there for the rest of the night.
She uncapped the bottle and set it on the counter, then flicked a surreptitious glance across the bar. Gavin had stopped at a copper wall fountain, which happened to be one of her favorite pieces. He brushed his fingers across the topmost magnolia blossom in a gentle sweeping motion, and her body responded as if he’d stroked her.
She always liked it when the customers appreciated her pieces, but Gavin’s reaction made her heart flutter a little more than usual.
Certainly more than it should.
He unclipped the phone attached to his belt and read the screen. After shooting the trio of women a look of disbelief, he shook his head, then stalked toward Sunny.
Robby dropped his arms to his side and stiffened. “Jesus, Sunny. He looks like one mean son of a bitch. Flirting with that is like poking a rattlesnake.”
Sunny turned and glared at her brother. She’d admit Gavin’s scowl was a little frightening. But, on a primal level, she found his intensity and commanding presence as much of a turn-on as the sexy smile he’d given her earlier.
“Wait till he smiles.” Good grief, the dreamy singsong lilt of her voice almost made her gag.
Robby looked incredulous. “He smiles?”
Sunny made a shooing motion with her hands, as if trying to chase away a stray dog. “Go away.”
Robby grinned, leaned against the counter, and crossed his ankles.
She should've known better than to try to discourage him. In all the years he’d lived with her, he’d never seen her with a man. This was fun for him, a novelty of sorts, and he wasn’t about to miss it. Defeated, she blew a piece of hair out of her eye and turned her back on him.
Gavin was almost to the bar when he stopped midstride and unclipped his phone again. He looked at the screen, then swiped a hand over his face and nodded to the beer. “Is that mine?”
He looked more than a little exasperated, so she grabbed a shot glass and held it up. “Yep. But you can always change your mind and go back to the Crown.”
He laughed, shook his head, and dropped onto the barstool. “No, thanks. This will be good.” Under his breath he muttered, “In fact, it’ll be outstanding.”
She sensed Robby relaxing behind her and, if she’d been ten, she would have turned around and said, “Told ya so,” before blowing a raspberry in his face. Instead, she kept her focus on Gavin and the dimple in his chin.
He lifted the bottle to his mouth, closed his eyes, and tipped his head back for a long, deep drink. Imagining him during sex with his eyes closed, head back, a similar look of ecstasy on his face made her break into a ferocious sweat.
“Damn, that’s good.”
I can only imagine how good it would be, she thought.
After a long pull that nearly polished the thing off, he set the bottle down with what could only be described as controlled calm. He stared at the bottle as he absently ran his thumb back forth through the condensation.
Sunny followed the graceful stroke of his well-manicured thumb with rapt fascination. His hands were large, but he had a gentle touch. Watching him stroke the bottle, in the same soft, gentle sweeping motion he’d used on the magnolia blossom, sent her imagination and pulse into overdrive.
How would he stroke her? The confidence he emanated, as well as the intensity surrounding him, made her think having sex with him would be like wrestling a gentle alligator. What a deadly combination.
Coming out of his thoughts, he looked at her and said, “The troublesome triplets would like a pitcher of margaritas.” He clenched his jaw. “Strawberry.”
Questions bounced around in Sunny’s mind like kids on a trampoline. Why was he in Anticue, a little barrier island few people visited? Why did he bring three women… women he didn’t particularly seem to like, with him? If Sunny followed her body’s urge and went for it with this guy, would he shut her down as he had the brunette?
What did he look like naked?
She was more curious about some of the questions than others, but according to Bartender Handbook rule number one: Never ask personal questions. Rule number two: Never get involved with a customer. In nine years of tending bar, she’d never broken those rules.
So why did Gavin make her not only want to break those rules, but a few state laws, as well?
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Chapter Three
While Sunny whipped up the pitcher of margaritas, Gavin took a moment to enjoy her sexy-as-hell necklace. Talk about an instant hard-on. As soon as Callie pointed it out, his cock had swollen to the point he needed to leave the table and wander around in the shadows, waiting for his pants to fit again.
How in the hell had he missed it before?
Her eyes. That’s how.
He was so fascinated by her nearly clear, silver eyes he hadn’t been able to pull his gaze away from her face. They were old-soul eyes that gave the impression she’d been through a lot. They weren’t weary from life’s struggles, just wise. And he was completely captivated.
Now that the necklace had been brought to his attention, he found it equally compelling. His gaze followed the diamond chain from her neck to the center of her breasts, where a blue topaz held the lengths of chain together. The chains separated on either side of the topaz and disappeared under the edges of her halter-top.
He drew in a shuddering breath and pondered several important questions. How did the ends attach? Were her nipples pierced? Were her nipples sensitive? How would she respond if he tugged on that chain with his teeth?
He wanted the answers to those questions so badly his bones ached. He snatched up his beer and downed the last of it in one gulp, chastising himself the entire time for being a lecher.
He also waited for the young man standing shotgun behind Sunny to put a fist to his face. But the kid only glared.
“Need another?” Sunny asked.
“Another ten or twelve would be good. But not right now.” He surrendered the empty bottle and shook his head. “If I drank all I wanted, I wouldn’t be able to walk out of here, let alone drive home.”
She smiled, and the room brightened like a thousand-watt spotlight had been turned on. She opened her mouth, then slammed it shut and pressed her lips together. She grabbed three glasses and sat them on the tray. “Where is home?”
Last Call (Book #2 - Heat Wave Series) Page 2