The Bar Scene

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The Bar Scene Page 2

by Ginny Frost


  Jesus, he was falling in love.

  Drew carefully turned to the side, deposited the condom in the trash, then lay on his back next to her. Neither said a word; Drew stilled in the quiet aftermath. Terese’s slow, even breaths lulled him toward sleep. Desperately, he tried to keep awake. He didn’t want it to end, to crash on her like some high-school kid—grunt, then snore.

  Fighting the long blinks, he rolled on his side to face her. God, she was beautiful naked. He never doubted it. But finally being with her cinched it. Yeah, probably love.

  Terese’s eyes closed, her body still. Maybe she’d fallen asleep on him. That’d be funny. The urge to touch her built up again as he memorized her naked form. Carefully, he traced his fingers over her stomach, making lazy circles. He wanted to caress those perfect breasts but resisted.

  As the radius expanded, he brushed her left side. She twitched and giggled.

  “No tickling,” she said, her eyes still closed.

  Biting his lip, he tried not to chuckle. Instead, his fingers wandered upward, cupping her breast. He stroked his thumb over her nipple, teasing it. She broke into a wide grin. Their gazes met.

  “Round two, huh?” she asked, her voice sexy, like smooth whiskey. His cock hardened again instantly.

  Smiling but trying not to seem too eager, Drew pushed up to his knees, lingering over her body. She watched him, saying nothing. He dipped his head and found her breast. She moaned, obviously not finished. Not by a long shot, and he’d make sure she slept well.

  Sucking her nipple into his mouth, he nipped and kissed, causing her to groan and hitch. She ran her hands over his arms and back before burying her fingers in his hair. She reached for his crotch, but he slid back. He wanted her dancing on air, high as a kite and thoroughly satisfied. His lips traced her torso.

  ****

  Terese watched him, satisfaction welling inside her. Drew was pretty in tune with a woman’s body, knowing where to touch and when. Not to mention he sensed the fire in her still burned bright. When his mouth closed over her breast, she wanted to grab him and flip him over again. He tormented her and she loved it.

  All activity stopped. His mouth withdrew from her nipple with a tiny squeeze and his fingers, caressing her skin a second ago, flared out on her hip. Confused, Terese propped up on her elbows, looking down her body at Drew. Damn, that was hot. His gaze met hers and he winked. A gasp escaped her lips. No, he wasn’t going to…not after… He skimmed down her body.

  Oh, God, he was. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she slumped backward. Drew graduated to the “Worthy of a Second Date” category.

  He deposited hot, sweet kisses as he descended, until finally, he was between her legs. Hell, if he wanted to go down after sex, who was she to stop him? Opening her legs, she grinned. He said nothing, merely lowered his head and went to work. Terese bit her lip at the first touch, excited and curious about this man and his abilities.

  Apparently, he had talent in spades. Terese rocked and panted under the influence of his mouth and tongue. He kissed, he sucked, but when he used his teeth, she flew over the edge again. Screaming, she came harder than ever before, and he stayed right there through it all. Gasping and panting, with black spots dancing before her eyes, she fell back, limp. Drew’s hands ran over her naked body, settling on her arms with a light squeeze.

  She lay, pooled on the bed, her head swimming in the wonderful afterglow. Her eyelids heavy, her body limber and warm, she wanted to sleep. But she should be hospitable to her guest, reciprocate in some way. Sighing, she twisted on her side to find Drew sprawled next to her, a wry smile on his face. She caressed his cheek between long blinks. He grasped her hand and kissed her palm.

  “You good?” he asked, low and husky.

  Closing her eyes, she hummed in agreement. She wanted to return the favor, but her body refused to move. She tried to open her mouth to answer, but sleep engulfed her.

  Chapter Two

  A high-pitched buzz burrowed into Drew’s ears, waking him. Scrunching up his nose, he grabbed for the covers but met with resistance. His efforts resulted in a giggle, and the epiphany hit him. He lay in Terese’s bed. His hard work had paid off. Terese had opened the door for him. Now he just had to make her fall in love.

  “Sorry. I forgot to shut the alarm off.” Her sexy voice murmured beside him. She reached over him to click it off. Even in the dim light and sleep-tousled, she was the most exquisite creature on the planet. Her body was irresistible as she leaned over him. Capturing her, he pulled her down for a kiss.

  Breaking away too soon, she fell against the bed. He followed, keeping her close. Giving him a playful push, she sat up, turning her back. Her shoulders flexed as her fingers smoothed over her scalp. As her mass of hair fell down her back, just a foot from her perfectly round ass, he was smitten. Desire stirred deep, and he reached for her again.

  Slapping his hand away, she stood up, giving him a side-view of her luscious, naked body. His cock stood at full attention now, but she was having none of it.

  “I have to go to work,” she said. Her mouth twitched into a tiny smile as she headed off to the bathroom.

  “What?” Work already? Wasn’t it early morning? The villainous alarm clock read 7:30 a.m. They’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep. So worth it.

  Sitting up and scratching his head, he called, “How can you have work already? You stayed at the bar until one a.m.”

  She stuck her head out the door of the bath, toothbrush in hand. “Brunch.”

  “Oh.” He crashed on the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep beckoned, but then reality hit, hard. “You did the late shift and now you’re on breakfast duty? That’s a crappy schedule, Terese.”

  She laughed, but she said nothing else. Still naked, he lumbered over to the bathroom door. “Hey, aren’t you in charge of scheduling these things? Can’t you get a break?”

  Through a sliver of the open door, her face shone with mirth. “I like the breakfast crowd. Besides, I can’t really trust anyone else with the shift.”

  Watching her, his mind crept slowly to the realization she was naked behind the barrier. In an instant, they could be in the shower together, naked, soapy… A dark burst of lust washed over him, and his body responded. He nudged the door. Her baby blues widened, even as she grinned.

  “Let me in.” His voice burned with desire.

  She glanced down and up, one eyebrow raised. “No, I’ll be late.”

  He nudged the door again. “Would that be so bad?”

  “Yes. I’m in charge, remember?”

  “Oh, I know,” he said, leaning in, their faces inches apart. “You’re exceptional at being in charge.”

  She barked a laugh and shut the door in his face. Nonplussed, Drew wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee.

  ****

  Terese waited a beat before she hopped in the shower. Remembering the hot, sweaty sex from last night, she curled her toes in the bath rug. Another round sounded like heaven. Drew was sex on a stick. And not barging into the bathroom earned him points for respecting her wishes, though she secretly regretted sending him off.

  After her shower, she found her stud in the kitchen, sipping coffee, naked as a jaybird. His sleek form poised over the old Formica counter, elbows down, cup in hand. She eyed him up and down, drinking in those long legs, round, perfect ass, and pale skin—delicious. She should drop her robe right here and… He glanced up through his curls, meeting her gaze. Heat rushed through her. If only she had more time.

  Breaking the sexual tension, she said, “Get me a cup?”

  “Of course.” He dipped his head and poured her a mug. He glided it slowly over the countertop, in a move that should not have been erotic but caused her body to break out in goose-bumps anyway. He had no shame, standing there in the buff as they both sipped their drinks. What a tease.

  “So.” She stared down into her cup. “Always drink coffee naked?” She smirked at him good-naturedly.

  “Of course.” Her stoma
ch squeezed at the sight of his smile. She wanted him again, and maybe for more than one night. He was so yummy and cute and… She sighed. And a college guy, probably four or five years younger than her. She sobered immediately. Playing with toys was one thing, but at her age, it didn’t pay to keep them.

  “I’m afraid I have to kick you out.” She fixed her gaze on her mug again, avoiding his eyes and naked bod. “I leave for work soon and…” Her words trailed off. She hated to tell him to go, but he couldn’t stay in her apartment.

  Shrugging, he slouched over to the bedroom, depositing a quick peck on her lips en route. “What time to do you get off work?”

  She spied on him from the kitchen as he donned his boxers. Her whole body mourned the loss of the lovely view.

  “Oh, uh, late.” She didn’t want him to know her work schedule. A smart woman didn’t overshare with a new guy. She broke at least two of her cardinal rules by taking him home last night—no frat boys, no one-night stands. But he was hot, and he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

  Her shoulders slumped. She shouldn’t lead him on, only keeping him around for sex. Fun, yes, but in the end, not fair to either of them. Her life needed to venture beyond the boy-toy stage.

  “Oh,” he said, his voice soft with disappointment. “I thought maybe we could, you know, hang out tonight or something.” Surprisingly, he stumbled over his words, the super-confident man from last night fading. She studied him.

  “Sundays aren’t good, Drew. I have to work and…” She tossed out her hand in a futile gesture, trying to let him down easy.

  Nodding, he threw on his pants. The shirt he slipped on more slowly, perhaps stalling for time. “I’ve gotta work on Monday, but I could…uh…” He glanced at her, his expression full of doubt. Her stomach twisted. She hated the goodbye.

  “Look, Drew…” she started.

  A solemn smile graced his lips, and he held up a hand to stop her. “No, I get it. No worries.” Picking up his shoes, he headed for the door. “I’ll see you around.”

  Terese sighed watching him leave. His expression, a mixture of determination, lust, and a tiny bit of sorrow, tugged at her heart.

  She almost called him back.

  Chapter Three

  At the door, Drew glanced back one last time, locking his gaze with Terese’s in a long exchange. Whether she intended or not, her eyes pleaded, “Stay.” But he’d never mess with her job. Leaving was best. Dipping his head, he conceded, departing without another word, preserving the moment.

  His brain worked overtime as he darted down the stairs. A one-night stand in the end? Did he blow it? He’d waited months to ask her out, hoping for more than a single time together. Hell, he’d even ditched his beard and bleached his hair, using the new style to stand out, catch her attention. Last night, she’d finally seen him.

  He ambled up three blocks and retrieved his car—one of the few parked on the street. Most townies used the buses, walked, or rode their bikes, but not him. His day job demanded a polished wardrobe. Plus, his father frowned on wearing a suit while biking to work.

  Cruising through the quiet streets, Drew took stock. She’d noticed him, even taken him home. The rest was more than he ever imagined and he’d thought about it, endlessly. In the end, reality had been much better. Hotter. Hell, even sweeter. Terese was a tour de force.

  He must see her again. Be with her again. Win her over. Driving home, he formulated a plan to transform their single night together into a real relationship.

  ****

  As usual, the brunch bustle demanded Terese’s undivided attention. Decked out in her forties-housewife attire—a blue silk dress with yellow flowers—she skated between tables, taking orders and schmoozing. Many of the city’s old-timers came out for Oakwood Tavern’s famous brunch buffet. Twelve hours after brash, party-happy college kids filled the bar, the seats now contained quiet senior couples munching on egg dishes. The serenity of it all warmed her heart.

  After seating the thousandth group, she plopped down on a bar stool across from Eric. He shot her a questioning look, but her own withering stare prevented him from asking about her evening. Brunch was not the place to discuss nighttime escapades. He chewed his lip, probably biting back a laugh as he wandered along the bar, mixing mimosas and Bloody Marys.

  “Ms. Brock?”

  Two men in suits stood behind her, their faces corporate bland and serious. She narrowed her eyes. Usually, patrons didn’t ask for her by name. A sliver of worry settled in her stomach. Something was off.

  Taking a deep breath and donning her savvy business smile, she said, “Yes, gentlemen. How can I help you?”

  “Hello, ma’am.” Suit Number One stuck his hand out for a shake. No need to be so formal, guys. She glanced at Eric who’d wandered down the bar closer to her, squinting at the newcomers.

  “We’re sorry to bother you on a Sunday. But…” He glanced at his partner. “This is a time-sensitive situation regarding the tavern. May we speak in your office?”

  The sliver in her gut grew into a splinter, and she stepped back. Her mind whirled. What could it be? Missing inventory, a waitress with a problem, kitchen issues? Oh please, not kitchen issues. The tavern usually operated in the black, and the employees were stellar. She ensured that.

  At a loss, she fell back on her jovial demeanor. “Let’s sit over here.” She motioned to an empty table near the bar, near Eric.

  Suit Number Two leaned in. She stiffened, ready to play bouncer. “Ms. Brock, we need to ask some questions about Alan Reid, Conrad Bennett, and The Entertainment Group. Privately.” He flashed a government ID too quickly for her to read the fine print.

  Her stomach clenched. She nodded, her smile hardening into plastic. “Of course, gentlemen. Right this way.” She glanced sidelong at Eric before heading to her tiny office.

  Once inside, the two men settled into chairs while she situated herself behind the metal desk. Folding her hands on the desktop, she asked, “What can I do for you?”

  The first man cleared his throat, placing his briefcase on his knees. “The situation is rather unusual and complicated, Ms. Brock.” Terese resisted drumming her fingers on the desk to hurry him along. Hungry people waited out in the tavern, drink orders needed to be delivered, and tips collected.

  Instead, she dropped her head to her shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes demurely. “Oh?” she asked. “Can I see your ID again?”

  The two men glanced at each other, and Number One dipped his head. “Of course.”

  The second man spoke up. “I apologize, Ms. Brock. I’m Agent Harris and my partner, Agent Torres. We’re from the IRS.” He flipped open his wallet, presenting his credentials. Torres did the same. Her own money problems—college loans, enormous credit card bills, over-due rent—flashed in her mind.

  Torres spoke up. “First of all, tell me about your relationship with the owners of this establishment, Alan Reid and Conrad Bennett.”

  “My relationship? I work for Alan.” Although, the truth was so much more. Alan had taken her under his wing when she’d arrived in Iverton—given her a job, taught her everything about the restaurant business. He’d been like a father to her over the past five years. Lately, he’d been distant, but Terese had chalked it up to her success here at Oakwood Tavern. She didn’t require supervision any longer.

  “Wait a minute,” she stuttered. “Alan’s in trouble?” Jesus, if Alan, king of responsibility, was in trouble, what could happen to her? Rumors flew around town, but she never took them seriously. It was Alan after all. “You don’t think I…?” She left the question hanging in the air, afraid of the answer. “Do I need a lawyer?”

  The two men exchanged a look but didn’t answer. A shiver slithered down her spine. “Both Mr. Bennett and Mr. Reid are currently under investigation for tax fraud. And we will be examining your relationship to them as well as the financials at the tavern.” He opened his briefcase and removed a pile of papers.

  Terese blinked as a cold sweat bro
ke over her body. “You won’t close the bar, will you?”

  “That’s not my decision, Ms. Brock,” Harris said in an icy, flat tone, meaning it totally was his decision. “The situation must be evaluated immediately.”

  Her heart sank. Worry splintered in her stomach and morphed into a two-by-four. She wearily fell back in her chair. “But it’s brunch.” Neither man reacted, nor explained why the IRS investigated on a Sunday. But their IDs appeared legitimate. Crossing her arms over her chest, she refused to disclose any information about the bar without a warrant, lawyer, or Alan present.

  Harris grumbled, and the men rose to leave. “Ms. Brock, in the future, we would appreciate your cooperation with the investigation.” Fear and suspicion danced in her belly at his words. Alan guilty? And she’d be guilty by association. She drew in a quick breath through her nose.

  “We’ll be conducting audits on each of the Entertainment Group businesses this week. Please be prepared,” Torres said stonily.

  “Wait, don’t you have to notify us in a letter before—?”

  Harris cut her off. “Mr. Reid, as owner, has already been contacted.” His lips turned down for half a second as if to add, “And your boss didn’t tell you.”

  She swallowed hard. Her legs shook as she forced herself to rise from the seat. Harris reached over to shake her hand. She gripped his fingers lightly, not finding the strength for a good shake. How could she? Her whole world turned on its ear. What the hell would she do if the Oakwood Tavern closed?

  ~*~

  Terese sighed in relief when the clock struck two and most of the brunch crowd departed. Her bones ached with tiredness. Her mind too crowded with the idea of the bar closing, she blew past Eric and out the door without pause, sleep the only thought in her head. She shunted her one-night stand and the IRS visit to the side. She needed more functioning brain cells to deal with them.

 

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