"And what are you doing?"
"Checking IDs at the door. Less than a C-cup means no entry." The old man grinned.
"Come on, Zee. You know we can't discriminate. On Ladies' Night, it's illegal. If they even have a cup size, let 'em in free."
His chuckle pleased Mac. Better than seeing the old guy moping and depressed, Mac thought. He loved the man who'd treated him as well as he treated his own son.
"Want me to take the lady her bags?"
"No, thanks, I can handle it." Mac didn't trust Zee not to sneak a peak, so he brought Samantha's luggage upstairs on his own. Not that he wasn't tempted to catch a glimpse himself, but the large crowd and an obligation to his friend had him running down the back stairs to work. If Samantha was a typical woman when it came to getting ready, he wouldn't be seeing her for a while.
Since he definitely needed some time to get his libido under control, he didn't mind. He'd given the lady time to decide. It didn't matter that his body protested with throbbing intensity. Nice guys lived uncomfortably by their word… and they didn't get lucky, either. Resettling his cap on his head, Mac rounded the corner of the bar and got to work.
Not fifteen minutes later, the woman who'd caused his aroused state walked back into the bar. He should have known. There was nothing typical about his Samantha.
* * *
She grabbed the first cushioned bar stool she could find, not an easy task on Ladies' Night, and propped her arms on the bar. Beneath her elbows, pennies, Abe Lincoln-side up, stared at her from under the scratched glass. Sam-she decided the name fit and she intended to keep it-was enchanted by the timeworn ambience of the bar.
Used to frequenting places like Lincoln Center and upscale restaurants in New York, she appreciated the chance to kick back and relax in a comfortable setting. Relaxing was a relative term, since Mac stood not a few feet away at the end of the bar, engrossed in conversation with a young woman. Judging by the white apron tied around her waist, the woman was his cocktail waitress and she didn't look happy.
Although Sam couldn't hear their conversation, it was obviously serious. Mac shook his head, then made his way to the cash register and handed money to the woman, who tried to push the cash back into his hands. Mac refused. The young woman then threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.
Whatever had transpired between them was obviously business, and yet the twisting in Sam's stomach when the other woman touched Mac couldn't be ignored. Feeling like an outsider, not to mention a jealous female-and not liking either-Sam shrugged and turned her attention away. Seconds later, Mac returned to the center of the bar.
He immediately began hustling between customers, serving liquor to smiling females. Sam could drink in his quick, sure movements all night. He was a study in masculine grace, if there was such a thing, easily grabbing glasses and tipping bottles as if he'd been doing this all his life. For all she knew, he had been.
Not for the first time, she realized she knew nothing about this man, except he set her body on fire with a sizzling look and, on some level, she trusted him. She'd be a fool to sleep with him otherwise.
She knew Mac could provide passion. His touch set off heated sparks and his voice shook her soul. If she wanted fun, excitement and hot nights in bed, she'd fallen into the right bar. Think about it… and let me know. Yearning mixed with trepidation. All she had to do was push her fears aside long enough to make the first move. The thought of Tom and a lifetime of single beds or separate rooms if she could manage it, clinched her decision.
"Hey, honey. Can I buy you a drink?"
She recognized one of the old men who'd cornered her when she first came in. "Sure."
"Hey, Mac," the old guy yelled across the crowded bar. "Two shots of tequila… and don't forget the lemon."
Mac turned their way long enough to raise an eyebrow at the request before finishing off other orders and making his way toward them. A nervous knot settled in the pit of her stomach. Her throat went dry, and Sam knew what she wanted. That was the easy part.
Letting him know would be harder.
He paused directly in front of her, bracing his hands on the old wood. Even the dark hair on his arms intrigued her, making her wonder what the texture would feel like if she ran her hands along his bare chest. "Tequila."
She shrugged nonchalantly, though she felt anything but. "That's what the man said."
"That's Zee to you, honey. And none of that watered-down crap Bear usually gives us," he told Mac.
Mac glanced at her. "You sure about that?"
"Why not?"
"Ever drink tequila before?"
She shook her head.
"That's why." But he began working on their order, turning over two shot glasses and filling them with amber-colored Liquid.
"Who's Bear?" Sam asked.
"The guy who owns this joint," Zee said.
"Your employer?"
"He owns the place and I'm working it. You tell me." Mac set the glasses down in front of them, along with a salt shaker and a bowl of lemons. He slid the rest of the bottle over to Zee. "Go easy," he said, and turned to the people next to her.
The bar crowd had more than quadrupled since she'd arrived, and Mac worked the room alone without a moment's break. "He looks overworked."
Zee nodded. "And underpaid."
"I heard that." Mac shot the old man a quelling look.
She tipped her head to the side. "Hard work's nothing to be ashamed of."
"He gave his cocktail waitress the night off," Zee explained.
"I thought I just saw her here," Sam said.
"You did. But Mac here thought she'd be better off baby-sitting her sick Mama than catering to us old men. Even paid her the night's wages… though she won't make any tips."
And that explained the transaction she'd witnessed earlier along with the woman's hug of gratitude. Sam felt like a jerk.
She blinked and looked at Mac, who'd gone back to serving other customers.
"That was nice of him," she murmured. She'd not only stumbled onto a sexy man, but he played Sir Galahad, to boot. Warmth spread through her as she acknowledged that this man had character as well as good looks.
"Boy's got a heart of gold. Always has. 'Course, it doesn't make up for his sour disposition."
Mac paused in front of them. "You bring out the best in me, old man," he chuckled wryly. The light in his eyes and the laugh lines bracketing his mouth sent tremors of awareness shooting toward strategic body parts, making her sizzle and burn. She'd never felt anything like it before. Samantha rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms.
Zee ignored him and glanced at the still-full glasses. "You gonna sit there all night or you gonna give me a run for my money? Watch and learn, honey."
Sam had seen this maneuver in college, but she'd never witnessed an eighty-year-old man make the attempt. Zee performed admirably. "You sure he's up to this?" she asked Mac as Zee wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"Apparently more than you."
She took that as a challenge. Copying the old man, she licked her hand, poured the salt onto her skin, licked, downed the contents of the shot glass and reached for the lemon.
"Not bad for a first-timer." Zee congratulated, refilling the glasses.
Sam's gaze met Mac's the moment the sour fruit reached her lips… because she'd just gulped a mouthful of straight water mixed with a healthy dose of food coloring. And he knew it. He winked, telling her to play along.
In that instant, Sam got another glimpse into her knight in shining armor's character. He humored old men and looked out for damsels in distress. Considering her current predicament, Sam realized she fit that label, too.
Mac, whatever-his-last-name-was, was a sexy, hard-working, sexy, decent, sexy guy. The perfect man for her purposes. Sam liked what she saw and liked what she'd learned. She couldn't have found a better man than Mac.
But first he had a bar to run, and from the look of things, he needed help.
* * *
Out of beer. The ladies in The Hungry Bear never ceased to amaze him. The Resort stocked premium vodka, while Bear loaded up on dark beer. Same state, different breed of women, Mac thought as he headed for the back room to refill his supply.
He'd moved one box to get to the keg when a fragrant scent alerted him that he had company. He raised his head, but without looking over his shoulder, he knew. Samantha.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, without turning around. She was a distraction he couldn't enjoy right now. Later, when he locked up for the night, maybe. If she was willing. But not now.
"A couple just walked in and they wanted a beer. The tap was empty and I didn't see any bottles behind the bar, so I…"
"You were tending bar?"
"There wasn't anyone else to do it." She squared her shoulders defensively.
"I told Zee to keep an eye on things."
"Zee thinks he's drunk."
That comment broke the tension, and they shared a good laugh. "You look out for him," she said. Approval and something more gleamed in her eyes, making him uncomfortable beneath her knowing stare.
"Someone has to… he's Bear's father. The old guy lost his wife a few years back and he's always looking for a little attention. It was nice of you to give it to him, by the way." Not many people would give a lonely old man the time of day. Bear's customers put up with the old coot for Bear's sake and because like Mac, they'd known Zee and his friends forever. Samantha had done it for a stranger.
"How long had they been married?" she asked.
"Over fifty years."
"Wow, that's a long time." A shudder shook her slight frame.
"Not for them. They really loved each other." Mac wondered when he'd become the spokesperson for marriage. Not that he'd mind settling down one day; in fact, he'd like nothing more. He just never believed he'd find a woman sincere and honest enough to make the risk worthwhile. He glanced at Samantha. Until now?
Mac wanted the chance to find out.
"At least those years were filled with love," she said.
He met her gaze. "Can't see tying yourself to someone for any other reason. Might as well wrap a noose around your neck otherwise."
She cleared her throat. "Would you mind changing the subject?"
"Why? Marriage makes you uncomfortable?" he asked lightly. If he had his way, he'd have plenty of time later to pry her secrets out of her. She obviously had many. "Don't tell Zee or he'll be giving you an earful about tradition, respect and good old-fashioned love." The older man's distinctive cackle filtered into the room.
She smiled, the wide grin knocking him senseless. There was no way he'd survive until closing with her hanging around, dodging his every move.
"He's harmless… and sweet." She shut the door behind her and walked inside, moving closer until he caught a whiff of the tangy soap she'd used during her shower. Though he missed the hint of peaches clinging to her skin, this scent worked on him, too.
She drew a deep breath. "Kind of like you," she murmured, a nervous tremor touching her voice.
He lifted her chin with his finger. "Sweetheart, I'm the furthest thing from sweet you'll find in these parts." Cold, withdrawn, disinterested. Those were the nicer adjectives some of the women at The Resort used to describe the blunt manner in which he'd turned down their advances. But he'd learned the hard way, letting them down gently never worked.
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that." She braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back until he hit the wall. Then with another tremulous breath, she leaned her body against his.
And then she kissed him. Hard and fast, as if she didn't want to give herself a chance to change her mind. Which was fine with him. She'd made the first move, and Mac intended to make sure she didn't regret it. Because with her soft mouth devouring his and her hands now pulling at his shirt and trailing up his chest, he definitely wanted more.
She didn't give him a chance. Those fingers curled into fists and she shoved backward, separating them before he could act on impulse and take what he wanted. What she'd seemed to offer just seconds before.
Wide eyes, darkened by passion and a hint of insecurity, met his. "I don't know what I was thinking, grabbing you like that."
Her uncertainty touched him. "I don't know what you were thinking, either, but did you hear me complaining?"
A slight smile took hold of her lips. "You mean you liked it?" she asked.
Reaching out, he grasped her forearm, gently pressing his fingers into her flesh. "You mean you couldn't tell? My technique must be rusty." He let his thumb run circles over her skim
He took one step toward her, and when she didn't back away, he locked them together once again. She tipped her head backward to meet his gaze.
"You can trust me, sweetheart."
"I know." Her wide smile reassured him, and he kissed her without holding back. She responded. Her tongue filled his mouth, while her soft sighs and little moans drove him mad. Apparently she'd needed reassurance, and having gotten it, she relaxed in his arms.
Her flimsy shirt already hung off one bare shoulder. Although not blatantly sexy, this soft, frilly thing aroused him beyond belief. Acting on impulse, he grabbed both the tank top strap along with the ruffled edge of the shirt and pulled both down far enough to let him taste one of her darkened nipples. Her moan of delight was unrestrained as she arched her back in wanton response, giving him complete access.
Mac had never embarrassed himself in front of a woman, but he damn near did so now. Another few seconds and he wouldn't give a damn that a bar full of people waited outside that door. He'd scatter their clothes on the floor and bury himself inside her willing warmth. He needed to stop but wasn't ready to let her go.
He had no choice. Her admitted hesitancy prevented him from going further. With more difficulty than he would have imagined, he raised his head. "Still think I'm harmless?" he asked, his breathing not at all steady.
"No, but you do taste sweet." An embarrassed smile played over her lips. "I wasn't sure how to approach you… but I'm glad I did."
He'd been right. For all her attempts at seduction, she was very new at this kind of game. Which made him wonder what other secrets she kept. She'd already admitted to being a temporary runaway. And given the inexperience he sensed and the innocence she projected, he had to wonder why the urgency to come on to him at all? Every unanswered question made her all the more fascinating.
He met her gaze. Her violet eyes were still glazed with a combination of passion and disbelief. Mac understood. He'd never have believed they'd make such an explosive combination, either. He hadn't thought this bundle of contradictions had it in her. He'd sensed her hesitancy and figured she'd bail out. Instead, she'd come to him. To Mac, the bartender.
If his instincts were on, this hot, blazing desire that flared between them was just as new to her as it was to… No. No. He shook his head. Desire wasn't new to him. He'd wanted before. He'd just never come so close so fast.
He had the unnerving sense that one night with Samantha wouldn't be enough to douse this high-charged inferno that blazed out of control. Worse, he wasn't sure he wanted it to be. But until he understood what she was running from and why, he couldn't take advantage… no matter how badly he wanted to.
With deliberate slowness, he picked her up and lowered her to the ground, making sure their bodies touched the entire time. Making sure she felt the hard ridge of his arousal. Her sharp inhale told him she had.
She'd pulled her still-damp hair into a braid that touched her shoulder. He toyed with the end. "It's wet."
"I didn't want to take time to dry it."
He played with her hair, running the strands down her cheek and along her neck, then following the path with his tongue. He looked up and met her wide-eyed gaze. "Where are you planning on staying?" he asked.
She cleared her throat. "Wherever I'm welcome."
She was welcome here. The thought shocked him, but he realized he meant it. Keepi
ng her around would give him time to get to know this woman, something he wanted, nearly as much as he desired her.
He bent his head. "The bed upstairs is a double," he whispered in her ear.
Mac told himself it made sense. She needed a place to stay. He needed to keep her around. As difficult as it would be, he could keep a respectable physical distance between them. She might think she wanted more, but her eyes mirrored her soul, and she was still unsure. Not of the sexual chemistry, because they'd steamed up this stockroom in no time at all, of something deeper. Emotionally, she wasn't ready for more.
When the stakes were high, and the prize worth winning, Mac had an abundance of patience. "Well?" he asked her.
"I…" He bit on her earlobe and her shudder went straight through him. "I check in next Thursday morning," she managed to say. "My conference begins at eight on Friday."
Loud banging on the door interrupted them before things got out of control. "I may be old, but my memory's fine. It doesn't take that long," Zee yelled. "You got thirsty people out here."
Her face flushed scarlet, and Mac cupped her cheek in his palms. "He's wrong."
"He is?" Her voice was filled with breathless anticipation.
Mac nodded. "It'll take the whole week. I'll make sure of it," he said in a voice he barely recognized.
Then he turned and walked out, leaving her to pull herself together while he hoped nobody else noticed how long he'd been gone. Or that he'd forgotten the beer. Or that he wanted Samantha so badly he could hardly walk. This woman, her honesty and vulnerability, made him believe in a future for the first time in years. Combine that with a sexual chemistry fierce enough to set his soul on fire, and Mac knew exactly why he'd invited her to stay for the duration.
Never before had a bartending favor held so much promise. As Mac got back to work, he wondered if anyone would notice if he skipped last call.
3
Sam wiped down the table and pocketed the tip left beneath the glass. As quickly as she'd taken over Theresa's job, she'd fallen into a steady rhythm. She wasn't half bad at cocktail waitressing. The overall pace here was slower than back home, which made for an easier transition. She enjoyed the customers, and they seemed to like talking with her. An easterner provided them with a source of amusement for the evening, and their slight accents intrigued her.
Brazen Page 3