by Ginny Frost
At home, her exhaustion seeped deeper, making opening her front door an impossible task. As she struggled with the lock, she heard a throat clear behind her. What now? Had the IRS guys followed her home? Or maybe it was Drew? Keys slotted in her fingers, she spun, prepared for anything.
“Whoa.” Hank Jarvis, her landlord and super, backed up a step, hands in the air. His big frame, though intimidating, housed a sweet guy. “Sorry to startle you, Terese.”
Dread filled her gut at the sight of her handsome, nice landlord. Rent was due, and she was behind for the first time in forever. Why now? She hadn’t seen the man in months. Grumbling, she pushed her guilt and anxiety to the ground. Her plate was already full.
Glowering at Hank, she kicked herself for letting him sneak up on her. Usually, she was very aware of her surroundings, being a single female in a small city. She covered her emotions with snark. “Finally coming to fix my sink?” Instinctively, she knew that was not the reason he was there, but she could hope.
Hank scrubbed the back of his neck. “Well, actually, I did swing by to check the sink but also to remind you…” He let the words trail off as he broke eye contact. His gaze roamed the landing. He was a good guy but not very assertive.
“Spill it, Hank.” Her mood darkened by the minute. She was tired of being tired.
“Okay.” He rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Your rent is late.” He licked his lips. “You’re never late, and well, I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” One side of his mouth crooked up in a half smile.
Terese snorted. “I’m like, what? A day or two late?”
“A week.” His tone hardened slightly.
“A week? Please,” she squawked. “I’m never late, Hank. Give me a break.” Embarrassment collided with her exhaustion. The impulse to flee almost overwhelmed her. She turned back to the door and fiddled with the lock again. Rent could wait for a few hours of sleep, couldn’t it?
“Hey,” Hank said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her instincts kicked in. Grabbing his hand, she spun, twisting his arm behind his back. “What the hell?” The kind, understanding landlord voice was gone. Shocked at her behavior, she dropped her grip and stepped back.
“I’m sorry, Hank. I wasn’t thinking. A lot happened today. I’m just…” She shook her head, tears burning in her eyes. Lack of sleep always made her irrational and jumpy. She’d managed to hold it together at work, but now the dog-weariness pulled at her, making her a crazy lady. “I’ll have the rent soon. I promise.”
His eyes narrowed. “Okay. I know you’re good for it, but don’t wait too long.” He dipped his chin. “Sink?” he asked, the word like a stone.
“Later?” She blinked back tears, and he relented.
“When I get the rent, then.” He shifted his toolbox, metal clanking on metal. Terese slumped back against the door as Hank descended the stairs.
Just what she needed, pissing off the usually super agreeable landlord. Grumbling, she managed to get the key in the door and hurled herself inside.
In her room, she set her alarm for a nap, giving herself enough time to prep for Sunday night’s shift. The IRS, her money woes, and her stupid choice to bring a guy home weighed on her. She needed a pick-me-up and soon. Her gaze drifted to the closet where her favorite outfit shone bright crimson. A smile lingering on her lips, she pulled it out.
The red dress—exactly what she needed to face all her troubles.
She hung it on the closet door in sight of the bed. Curling under her covers which annoyingly and not-so-annoyingly smelled like Drew, Terese gazed at her dress as she dozed off for a cat nap. The red dress could fix anything.
****
Drew waited until evening to visit the Tavern. At first, he didn’t spot Terese. Maybe he’d missed her. He stared dumbly at his phone, regretting never asking for her number. Or another date. Stupid move. One night in paradise and it was over. Disappointed, he slouched over to his usual seating area and ordered a beer from a passing waitress.
When the server returned with his drink, she lingered, smiling, asking if he wanted something more. Trying to be polite, he thanked her, poised to ask if Terese was available. Before he even formed the question, the crowd parted, and Terese walked through the open aisle. His breath caught in his throat, his lungs screaming for oxygen.
The red dress.
She strolled through the bar in the fifties-style get-up, with her hair piled up, red fabric flowing. The dress hugged her curves and bared her shoulders. His mouth dropped open. She looked as if she’d stepped out of a pin-up calendar with the narrow waist and poufy skirt.
“So I guess that’s a ‘no,’ then?”
Drew’s attention snapped back to his server. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her head tilted to the side.
“What?” he asked, trying to watch the goddess in red.
“I guess you aren’t free later, then?” The waitress pouted.
“Uh, no…sorry. Thanks.” He fished money out of his wallet for the beer and shoved it at her without glancing back. He only had eyes for one woman. Pushing past the waitress, he tried to follow Terese.
Wandering through the bar, vibrant, she left a trail of smiles as she passed. The Sunday patrons were usually older, remnants from the morning’s brunch perhaps. Terese always played for the crowd with her demeanor and clothing. On a Thursday or Friday night, she dressed as a club girl, with shredded tops, tiny skirts, and tall boots. But here on Sunday, she became the sexy housewife, and the crowd ate it up.
He certainly did.
****
Terese scanned the crowded counter and the overflowing tables before heading back to her office. The little sleep she gained from her cat nap and the red dress hadn’t helped as much as she hoped. At this point on the busy Sunday, she was nothing less than a zombie, running on fumes. Thoughts about the cute blond flitted through her mind often. But as fun as it had been and as sweet as Drew was, it was a one-nighter. Brunch, Hank, and the IRS goons shifted her focus back to reality. Time to put thoughts about Frat Man on the back burner and concentrate on more important things.
Right before she ducked into her office, a head of ragged, yellow curls caught her attention. Pausing, open-mouthed, she almost sought him out but halted after a step. No, he was too young. It was too indulgent. Her tired brain ached from the crazy thrown at her today, and she needed to put her feet up.
The power nap five hours ago hadn’t cured her exhaustion. Probably because her pillows held the sexy aroma of his sandalwood cologne. Not to mention the late payment notice on her cell phone bill. Stop thinking about Drew and focus on your crumbling future. Driving away thoughts of him, she ducked into her office, closing the door firmly behind her.
Frazzled, she plopped into the chair, shucked the uncomfortable bargain-basement Coach heels, and scrubbed the sole of her foot. She never should’ve switched outfits. A calendar girl outfit required much more work. Between the shoes, the hair, and the attitude, the fifties look wore her out on a regular day. And today… She rubbed her sore toes, wanting to crawl home now. Eric would razz her for leaving early two nights in a row, especially after yesterday’s booty-call.
She sank into her leather chair, propping her heels on the desk. Twenty winks, then she’d face the barroom again.
Her eyes slid shut as her weary mind focused on one idea: time for a change.
Eight years on the job, she was no longer some college girl with the whole world ahead of her. Nearing twenty-six, she needed to move into a real career. She loved the tavern and her boss, Alan. But the IRS visit left her with a cold pit in her stomach. They weren’t only scrutinizing Alan and his business partner. Her finances would be examined closely because of her position. Where were her tax records? Did she even file last year? Her stomach twisted as a fine sweat broke out on her neck.
If the bar closed, what the hell would she do? Having worked here for so long, she’d never honestly considered leaving. But now? If the IRS seized all of Alan’s assets, the bar
would close for sure. She’d be shit out of luck.
An image of the new conference center and hotel being built by Drake Industries crossed her mind. The architectural firm based in Iverton had recently expanded into construction and renovation. Word on the street said the company was the force behind the downtown restoration. She considered applying a few weeks ago, hoping to put her Hospitality Management degree to work. But the application and outdated resume still sat on her desk at home.
Fear prevented her from sending it. The diploma rusted on her wall. Not that she wasn’t using it at the bar. But getting in with the new conference center could lead to a real career, not merely schlepping drinks. She’d stop playing party girl, be a grown-up, maybe wear a suit. No more drunk college boys puking everywhere. No more trashed sorority girls needing to be saved from a bad pick-up. Moving on and up might be her only option now.
The distinctive creak of the office door forced a weary groan from her throat. Damn it! Usually, they at least knocked. Sitting up, she slammed her feet on the floor ready to blast whoever dared to barge into her personal space.
Blond hair poked through the door, and Drew’s dark, luminous eyes met hers. He grinned. She stared, her mouth forming a perfect O, the barrage of cuss words dying on her tongue. The IRS, her personal money problems, her need for a new job vaporized like smoke.
He slipped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Leaning against the door, he sent her a cagey smile, mischief shining in those eyes. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey, yourself.” Thrown, she sat, rooted in her chair, and didn’t know what to think or feel at his unexpected appearance. His boldness, entering her office unannounced, shocked her, but at the same time, thrilled her. Memories of last night fluttered through her mind, and she straightened, attempting to settle her charged nerves.
“The red dress.” His voice husky. He caught his lower lip in his teeth.
“What? Drew—”
He cut her off. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are in that dress? You make every man want you, every woman jealous.” He stepped closer. A weird rush surged through her, as if he were some predator, hunting her. Heat danced over her body and flashed in down below.
Snapping her legs together, she crossed her ankles demurely and tried to keep her reaction to him under control. It was a futile effort.
He smirked, taking another step forward. “I wanted to see you again. I planned to ask for your number, but the dress…”
He fell to his knees in front of her, and she jumped slightly. He traced a hand over the satin trim, as if grasping the hem of a queen’s gown.
Swallowing hard, she held her breath, gazing down at him. His fingers trailed along her bare leg, his fingertips brushing ever so delicately. Her nerves sang.
“You like the dress?” she asked, voice trembling.
“Yeah.” Both his hands stroked her legs, sliding slowly up and down, sending bolts of electricity through her. “You’re a goddess, and I must pay homage.” Flashing a crooked smile, he edged in closer, pushing up her dress.
She struggled to brush back the fabric, crinolines crackling. “No, Drew, not here,” she said with more desperation than she meant to convey. His eyes burned with desire. The flames were everywhere.
He nodded, pushing the dress up again. There was a ridiculous moment of struggle over the hem, each alternately nodding and shaking their heads. Until his lips touched the bare skin of her thigh.
Terese surrendered, no longer caring this college dude had his head buried under her skirt in her office with the door unlocked. Nothing mattered in the universe except the touch of his lips on her skin. She almost didn’t register the scratch of lace as he pulled her panties off, but the dance of his fingers rendered her boneless.
She gripped the arms of the chair, her body transforming into jelly. He was good, way too good for some frat guy. Opening her legs wide, she ceased fighting him. His talented tongue and fingers sent her skyrocketing. Biting her lip to muffle the scream boiling in her throat, she threw her head back and rode the orgasm for what seemed like hours.
Panting, exhausted, she collapsed backward in the chair, bracing her arms to stop herself from puddling to the floor. His head popped out from her skirt, a wide grin stretching his cheeks.
“Worshiped like a goddess,” he whispered, and Terese almost burst out laughing.
“Who are you?”
Standing, he shrugged. He offered her a hand. Leary, she grasped it. As he drew her close, his erection pressed into her hip. He ground into her, ever so slightly, showing her how much he wanted her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, swaying slightly to the music he’d put in her head.
He dipped his head down for a long kiss when a sharp rap struck the office door. Images of the suited men from this afternoon rushed into her mind. Terese broke the kiss abruptly, jerking her arms away. Unfortunately, he still clung to her. She slapped at him, withdrawing farther. The door opened as they finally broke apart, revealing Eric standing in the doorway.
“Uh, Terese…” His gaze raked her up and down. “You coming?”
A single syllable of laughter burst from Drew’s lips, and Terese stomped on his foot. He snapped his mouth shut.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she said, attempting to keep her voice even. Eric could probably read the situation from her crumpled dress and mussed hair. Damn Drew. He was like an addictive drug.
Eric’s gaze darted back and forth between her and Drew. “You okay?” he asked. His voice tinged with steel. Aw, how sweet.
Her lips curved into a genuine smile, and she angled her head. “I’m good. This is Drew.” The two men nodded to each other in a manly fashion as the bartender introduced himself. Thankfully, they didn’t shake. That was a can of worms Terese did not want to open.
She slung her shoes on quickly. Smoothing her skirt, she boldly walked past Eric as he held open the door. His eyes flashed a knowing look that rankled her. She was allowed to fool around with whomever she wanted in her office. Tossing her head back, she marched off toward the bar.
Setting up glasses, she busied herself as the two men exited her office. Eric passed behind her, saying nothing, but emotions poured off him. He wasn’t usually a protective or jealous guy. They’d talk later in a more private place. Drew hovered by the edge of the bar, his fingers drumming, but his expression held nothing but confidence.
Keeping the counter between them, she crossed her arms, eyeing him narrowly. The crooked smile appeared again, and she yielded. “I’m off at eleven.”
He dipped his head, lips twisting, leaning closer. “How about I pick you up tomorrow morning about noon? Some rock climbing? A picnic?”
Terese couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d donned a clown nose. “What?” she asked, almost rebuffed he didn’t ask to go to her place.
“Like a date.” He fiddled with a water ring on the bar, drawing the water out until the circle became a star. “Hit a waterfall or two?”
The city of Iverton snuggled against the side of a mountain. On one side of the city stood waterfalls, granite cliffs peppered with hiking trails. On the other side, wide open farmland, orchards, and little lakes. Iverton stood right in the center, very cosmopolitan with several colleges and thriving commerce. She wasn’t much of a climber, but most everyone, college students and business executives alike, took advantage of the unique geography.
“Picnic?” It wasn’t registering.
“You know…” Drew said, pouring on the sarcasm. “Walk on trails, see waterfalls, eat sandwiches.” His brow furrowed. “You do eat sandwiches, right?”
“You don’t want to…” She paused before she embarrassed herself further.
“Eat sandwiches with you by a waterfall? Yes, I do.”
Terese was completely unnerved. She’d expected…well, she’d expected him to want reciprocation. Hell, she’d been about to do exactly the same when Eric interrupted. Gazing into Drew’s soulful eyes, she nodded dumbly.
“Cool.” He reached over and grasped her hand. Brushing his lips across her knuckles, he winked and walked out the door.
“Same guy from last night?” Eric asked from behind her, and she jumped.
Composing herself, she decidedly ignored her friend. Sticking her nose in the air, she grabbed a tray and headed toward the tables.
Despite the sexual haze hanging over her, she managed to finish the rest of her shift. Waiting tables without panties proved harder than she expected.
Chapter Four
Lying in his queen-sized bed, Drew couldn’t sleep. She’d said yes—to an actual date. His mind crawled with plans for the morning, the perfect spot, a meal. Other questions loomed. Sex? Did she hike? What kind of sex? How much sex? His brain finally surrendered well after midnight.
Morning arrived too soon, his alarm like a red-alert shattering the quiet. Blinking, he shut it off and headed for the bathroom on autopilot. He stopped short at his reflection in the medicine cabinet. The shaggy blond hair and lack of beard reminded him he planned to play hooky from work today.
Humming, he marched out of the tiny bathroom, found his phone, and left a message for his assistant.
“Hey, Donna. It’s Andy. Obviously.” He laughed. “I won’t be in today or probably tomorrow either. Cancel my appointments. There’s the one with Charlie, and I’ll catch him by phone later. And don’t worry. I’ll call the old man and tell him too. I won’t leave you holding the bag. See you Wednesday.”
Ending the call, he chewed his lip a bit. Would Dad be in already? He glanced at the clock. Nah, too early for him, even with the project nearing phase two. Besides, Drew’s part had wrapped two weeks ago. Jimmy needed to polish the report due to the old man on Friday. A two-day vacation seemed acceptable, given his innumerable hours of overtime in the last six months.
Even his dad, the original work-a-holic, would grant him that.
Tossing the phone on the charger, Drew took stock. Email Jimmy and Charlie, call Dad, review Jimmy’s report for Friday. He glanced at the clock and grinned. It could wait though. He had a date today at noon, plenty of time for a nap. He crashed into his comfy bed and slept like a baby.