Her mother, even with Bailey’s grandfather’s help, couldn’t pinpoint where exactly the race lines crossed along the family tree. There was some French in there somewhere, but there likely was a crisscross of a few races down the family line. Whose family tree was truly purebred these days anyway, so what difference did it make? Apparently, it matters to this guy.
He sat back with arms crossed over his remarkably broad chest. “Where in South Carolina are you from? I have an aunt that retired in Myrtle Beach.”
It was that damn smile that was affecting her—his bright white grin and those perfectly shaped, pale pink lips. Frankly, their entire interaction was starting to unnerve her.
He’s a bold one, this one.
“Nope, not Myrtle Beach and not an islander. I should get your order in.” His casual nod was Bailey’s window to leave. She didn’t waste a second darting away.
As she headed for the kitchen, she gave a quick glimpse over her shoulder and caught him looking at her backside. That annoyed the hell out of her.
Typical.
Chapter Three
Sienna came up to Bailey at the coffee station. “Let me guess, that’s for Mr. Hotness, right? That’s all he had on Thursday night, too. Coffee and pie. How does he keep that ass tight on caffeine and sugar?”
Bailey’s head jerked up from the cup she was filling with black coffee. “How would you know what his ass looks like?”
“Come on, you know he’s packing it, girl.” Sienna snorted. “And I got a good look on Thursday.”
Bailey couldn’t disagree. “Here, you take it to him.” She pushed the tray over.
“Why? No, you do it. I’m at two to your one flirt this week,” Sienna reminded her.
Kim poked her head between them. “I’ll do it. He’s cute as all get out.”
“You need to tend to your own tables for once.” Sienna turned her back to their coworker, blocking Kim out of the conversation. “Bails, his coffee’s getting cold.” With a wink, her dark eyes mischievous, she slid the tray back over.
“You’re bad, you know that.” Bailey smirked back at her best friend.
Like most of the waitresses, she and Sienna received their fair share of propositions from both single and married men. They turned it into a game, tallying their numbers at the end of the week.
The younger businessmen were the worst. Many were arrogant and felt entitled as if their financial position gave them carte blanche to any woman they sought. She’d become numb to it, unimpressed by their tailored suits and fancy cars. Besides, she knew all they wanted was a quick lay to ease the stress of their day to day—sex to take the edge off. She’d admit that Mr. Hotness got her panties moist, but she wasn’t that weak.
Sienna often won the flirt game they secretly played. Men found her flawless, cinnamon-brown skin tone and tall, slender, runway model build very appealing. She wore her natural soft curls cropped short. Some days she’d mousse down the sides and spike the top. One might say her glossy, jet-black hair and dark slanted eyes suggested that she had some Asian in her. Sienna had never known her father, so it was possible.
Her looks would easily put Naomi Campbell to shame, but Sienna’s passion was art. In college, every wall in their dorm room had been covered in her artwork. Now their current apartment walls displayed Sienna’s masterpieces, and wherever there was a flat surface, one would find a Sienna original sculpture. It was why she worked as a docent downtown during the day. She could keep her ears open to possible opportunities to get her foot in the door to someday showcase her work.
The escalating voices of Kim and Sienna pulled Bailey out of her musing.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Kim spat out at Sienna.
Sienna planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes right back at her. “Shouldn’t you be off clearing tables or something?”
“Who are you to tell me what I should be doing? How about you go do your job,” Kim shot back.
Bailey wedged herself between the two ladies, looking from one to the other. “Stop before Joe fires both of you! Geez.” Exasperated, she shook her head. Sienna and Kim were from the Bronx and both shared the I-never-back-down attitude.
“He’s my customer; I’ll take it to him,” she told them.
Kim stood her ground a moment longer, then delivered another hard look at Sienna before turning with a theatrical swing of her long ponytail over her shoulder, its strands catching Sienna across the face on her exit out of the kitchen.
Sienna fanned away the hairs with a look of disgust. “Ew, Joe needs to make her tie that shit up. One of these days, I’m gonna snatch that horse tail right out of her scalp.”
Bailey sighed. “Why you get worked up over her, I’ll never understand. If you’d take the time to get to know Kim, you’d see that she’s really sweet.” Her tray in hand, she headed off with a look over her shoulder. “Really, you should talk to her.”
Sienna sucked her teeth in obvious disagreement. “I already know her type. We work our butts off while she glides around the floor scoping out the men.” She grabbed an empty tray to clear plates in her section and followed as she went on, “Why do you think Kim likes the five-thirty shifts? By six is when most of them start strolling in. You can always find her at the windows around that time to see who’s driving what, so she’d know which one to schmooze.”
She was still going on about their coworker as they entered the dining area. They both froze with trays in hand upon seeing Kim standing at booth four talking to Mr. Hotness with her chest exaggeratedly pushed out before him.
“Sweet, huh? See that? That right there is what I’m talking about.” Sienna took a wide step, ready to charge, but Bailey touched her shoulder.
“Sie, I got this. Go finish up. I want to get the hell out of here on time tonight.” Seeing Kim talking to the man, a twinge of jealousy crept just below the surface of Bailey’s common sense.
“Bails, embarrass her ass. Tell him she has an STD or something,” Sienna scoffed before she headed off to her section.
Bailey had no intentions of saying that. She walked over and subtly moved in front of Kim to arrange the cup and plate before the man whose eyes were trained on her every movement. “Thanks for keeping my customer entertained.” She gave Kim a smile over her shoulder, and noticed how Kim had her hands linked behind her back, making her D cups even more pronounced in the one-size-too-small polo. Bailey thought of her own thirty-two Ds compressed in the confining sports bra she wore. The poor things. Her breasts had started sprouting early, around eleven years old. By age fifteen, her nipples were so overly sensitive, she often wore a compression bra to curtail the direct contact of them rubbing against fabric. The constricting garment also helped to keep men’s lecherous eyes focused on their menu.
“I was telling him how much I liked his car. I happened to see it when he pulled in.” Smiling at the man, Kim draped her ponytail over her right shoulder and twirled the end around her finger as she said to him, “I’m really into cars. I knew right off that it’s a Ferrari 612 Scaglietti. V-12, I’m sure. It looks best in silver. You would think red, but no, silver’s the way to go. You have exceptional taste.”
Damn, the girl is good! Bailey watched Kim run her tongue along her top lip and end with a slight chew on the bottom one, giving the man an enticing smile. Kim also knew precisely when to slide in a bit closer to give him an exceptional view of her plump ta-tas.
Bailey had to hand it to her—Kim was good at her craft. However, the man didn’t seem that impressed by Kim’s knowledge of his car; he was more interested in his cobbler. He took in a mouthful, chewed, swallowed, and then sipped his coffee. Throughout, she noted that his eyes were fixed on her.
Her coworker was still going on about the car—engine specs, octane, and who knows what else. “Kim, we should give him his space.” Bailey smiled politely at the man. “Enjoy your cobbler.”
“Good suggestion on the sweet potato, Miss South Carolina. Is there anything else you would su
ggest I try? I’m open to anything you recommend ... that is, if you’re one of my options.”
Taken aback, her eyelids fluttered, and his words clogged Kim’s jabbering in her throat.
In that suspended moment, Sienna walked up. “Kim, your customer at table twelve is asking for a refill. I told him you’d be right over.”
“Uh, yeah, okay,” Kim replied, looking just as thunderstruck.
Bailey could almost read the girl’s thoughts—this obviously wealthy, very attractive man had bluntly opened a bedroom door for her to walk right in, but the Miss Upstanding Country Mouse that she was wouldn’t take the bait. Kim would be partially right, Bailey thought. It wasn’t that she was holier than thou by any means. It was more been there, done that ... twice. Her heart had enough scuff marks, thank you very much. Besides, he was probably not that good in bed anyway. All show, no action. Who am I kidding? Look at him. I’d likely have an orgasm merely from the man’s breath on my neck. Stop it! Bailey, pull it together!
Straightening her spine to draw his attention to her breasts again, her coworker offered up another smile; her tone syrupy sweet. “Well, it was very nice talking to you.”
Wow. All Kim received that time was a nod from the man. Her shoulders dropped, as did her bright smile, and she ambled away.
Bailey was unsure what to say to the man. He’d just propped her. She’d heard variations of this come-on from men numerous times before and was usually quick with a retort that made it clear she wasn’t interested. For some reason, her brain blinked out on her.
But this was exactly the game she and Sienna played. It would count as two flirts for her for the week. She pursed her lips to strike. “You—”
“What’s your name, beautiful?” he interjected and then took in another fork of the cobbler.
Beautiful? Seriously, am I supposed to melt and drop my panties over that? She could toss her pen in any direction in the cafe and hit a man like him: handsome—okay, maybe not as hot—wealthy, and offering up a big bowl of sex with nothing else on the side.
Typical,” she murmured, shaking her head as she placed his billfold on the table.
“I—” he started.
“All of the options that are available to you can be found on the menu. Enjoy your cobbler.” Not giving him a chance to utter another word, she walked off.
Chapter Four
Like most nights, Bailey had been kept busy, but tonight, the time seemed to drag on, draining her both physically and mentally.
She glanced over at Sienna entering the break room. “Hey, are you ready to head out?”
“Just about.” Sienna pulled her backpack from her locker and stuck her tips into her wallet. “Here, Sir Hotness wanted me to give you this.” She handed over a twenty-dollar bill.
“Stop calling him that. And twenty dollars for a twelve-dollar table bill? What do I look like to him, a beggar or something?”
“Why are you getting all bent? Girl, take the damn tip.” The bill was dropped into Bailey’s backpack. “It’s not like he can’t afford it. You said he propped you, so we’re tied, right? He wanted some brown sugar to sweeten that black coffee,” Sienna teased, and Bailey playfully shoved her friend at the shoulder. “You know I’m right.” She rolled her hips and backed her butt up to Bailey, laughing.
Bailey closed her locker and grabbed her backpack from the bench behind her. “He gave me that tired-ass line as if I’m supposed to fall all over him because he called me beautiful. Please.” She rolled her eyes. “You know I don’t play that.” Truth be told, she was kind of disappointed to see that he was just like all the rest. For some ridiculous reason, she’d wanted him to be different.
“You couldn’t even go back to his table. What else did he say to you exactly?” Sienna asked.
“The usual weak crap they all say, thinking we’re so desperate that we’d pant at anything they say. He had the nerve to ask me what I am. He didn’t come right out, but I knew what he meant, like I had to pass some race checklist of his or something.”
Sienna brought her chin up, lips pouted. “Well, you are a query at first glance,” she said in a prim, proper tone. “And at least you know which direction to point your genealogy compass.” Her dark eyes grew as hard as her tone was playful. “My loving mother was an ambassador of goodwill to so many partners, for all I know, I may descend from Attila the Hun.”
“Don’t say that,” Bailey lightly chided.
“But, really, what’s the biggie about it? Hell, all he had to do was get a look at that ba-dunka-dunk to know what time it is.” Sienna reared back, eyeing Bailey’s backside. “Show him you can drop it like it’s hot.”
Bailey smiled. “Oh, he got a good look all right.” She fished in her backpack for her keys. “Like I said, I’m not that desperate. Let’s go.”
They left the break room, said their good-byes to their manager, Joe, and those scheduled to close, stepped outside, and headed across the parking lot toward Bailey’s Honda.
Sienna spotted him first and elbowed Bailey in her side. He was resting back against a silver Ferrari with his legs loosely crossed at the ankles, talking on his cell phone. Her gaze dipped to his buffed, black leather dress shoes—double monk wing tips. Very nice. They made eye contact. He straightened and started moving toward them while continuing his phone conversation.
“Uh-oh, he’s coming over.” Sienna grinned and elbowed Bailey again. “Yum, yum, Bails, look at all of that. Mr. Olympia for sure.”
“Would you stop with the names.” Bailey immediately started to sweat. He was all that—tall, muscular, gorgeous with a casual swagger that oozed confidence. “What do you think he wants?” He was close enough that she could hear him giving demands to whomever he was speaking to on the phone—enough with the excuses ... call me back with results ... get it done, she heard him say before he ended the call. His autocratic manner didn’t sit well with her.
“What does he want, you ask? One word, girlfriend ... you.” Sienna pasted on a generous smile for the man now standing before them. “Good evening,” she said.
“Hello,” Bailey followed, managing to keep the irritation undercut by apprehension out of her tone.
“Good evening,” he replied. “I would like to apologize to you for my rudeness earlier. It’s not often a beautiful lady has me searching for words only to end up saying the wrong thing. It was in poor taste.”
She shrugged. “No argument here, but it’s whatever.” Her tone was purposely cold as she looked up at the man’s tall stature, while trying her best not to ogle his powerful physique.
“Wait. You were waiting out here just for her?” Sienna asked the man. “I’m touched and a bit creeped out.”
“Sienna!” Bailey jabbed an elbow in her friend’s side this time.
“What? Bails, we don’t know him from Adam or,” Sienna gestured a hand up and down the man’s exceptional build, “Apollo in his case.”
Bailey took a patient breath and rolled her eyes. “Sie, you’re your own audience sometimes, you know that.”
“Bails?” the man asked, looking between them.
“It’s short for Bailey,” she said, and his lips slowly curved upward.
“Ah, Bailey of South Carolina. I’m Lucas Marx, and I assure you, Miss Bailey of South Carolina, you have nothing to fear from me.” He looked at Sienna. “I overheard you say you both got off at ten. I thought I’d wait.”
“Walters. Bailey Walters.” She accepted his outstretched hand, and Sienna did the same.
“Sienna Keller—pleased to meet you.”
“My pleasure.” His attention came back to her. “I’d like to get to know you. Have dinner with me.”
Was that a command or a request? Bailey couldn’t tell which. “Dinner? Now?” She glanced over at Sienna and then back at him.
“Of course not now,” he responded with a relaxed smile in an attempt to relieve the slight spike of apprehension she was certain he could see in her eyes. “I meant tomorrow evening. Or
we could meet in the morning for coffee.”
“You like your coffee, don’t you,” Sienna commented.
Bailey fought not to elbow her friend again. “Here.” She handed over the car keys. “Start it up.”
“Good idea. You know it runs on a wing and a prayer these days. Good thing you had your boy, Kevin, work some of his mojo on it. We should be able to make it home.” She grinned in response to Bailey’s deep sigh. The girl’s wit was turned on 24-7. “Nice meeting you, Lucas Marx.”
“You, too, Sienna.”
They both remained silent until Sienna was seated inside the Honda, and then he said, “If you’re concerned about my character, we could meet here if you’d prefer.”
“I have to work in the morning.”
“I thought you worked nights, so—”
“You thought you had me pegged, that I was a desperate waitress, one who looked for generous tips chased with sexual favors.” Bailey allowed her annoyance to show as she irritably pushed her pack’s strap up on her shoulder and crossed her arms at her chest. “Do you always verify race before you decide if a woman is worth getting with, Mr. Marx?”
“No, I—” He frowned and looked away for a moment, then back at her. “You misunderstood. I appreciate your uniqueness, your beauty.”
She blinked, surprised a bit by his compliment, but quickly regrouped. “Look, I don’t hook up with patrons. It’s late and I have to get up early. It was nice meeting you.” She turned to leave, but he caught her forearm in a light hold. Her gaze dropped to his hand and then up at him. A slow grin crept into his cool, steely-blues as he held on a couple of seconds before letting go. “Have a good night, Mr. Marx.” She pivoted, too startled by his warm touch to be vexed.
“Wait,” he called and caught her wrist again, but only for a moment before reaching into the front pocket of his shirt. “I simply would like to get to know you. No pressure. Here’s my card if you should change your mind. It’s my personal line. You can reach me anytime.”
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