Barely Breathing

by Brenda Rothert

  I met her eyes with a silent question about just what kind of club this was. I wasn’t going to say the words in front of the redhead who was leading us up the open, smooth stone staircase.

  The table we were led to in a small, private room was already set for two. An open door led out to a huge balcony that overlooked the first floor of the club. People were drinking and dancing out there.

  “I’ll let Mr. Kane know you’re here,” the redhead said. “And a server will be here shortly.”

  “No, I’ll go down and find him,” I said, getting up and following her to the door. I turned to Cara. “You don’t mind?”

  She waved a hand. “Course not. I’ll go out there and mingle.”

  I descended the staircase, keeping a hand on the polished marble railing as I scanned the club. The dance floor was filling up fast. But why was I looking there for Kane? Just the thought of him dancing made me break out in a smile.

  After two trips around the first floor, I still hadn’t seen him. I went down the hallway that led to his office and found his door was open just a crack. I leaned against the wall to wait.

  “ . . . better than that,” Kane was saying. “I’ve got no choice but to fire you.”

  “Please,” a female voice pleaded. “It was just a stupid mistake. I’ll pay it back. You can dock my paycheck if you need to.”

  “It’s not about the hundred bucks. You broke my fuckin’ trust, Melanie. I can’t have people working for me who steal.”

  “I wasn’t stealing,” she balked. “I was borrowing it until payday. My rent was overdue and I was about to get evicted.”

  “Taking money out of a cash register is stealing. This ain’t a damn bank, it’s a business.”

  “But—”

  Kane cut her off. “We’re done here. Come get your paycheck Friday. You can keep the money you took.”

  I moved down to the end of the hallway, out of earshot. Less than a minute later, a young blond with a tired expression walked out. She went toward the back of the club, head hung low.

  After a deep, reassuring breath, I walked to the door to Kane’s office and rapped lightly on the frame. When I peeked around the corner, he was at the desk, arms folded, looking lost in thought.

  “Viv,” he said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

  My stomach flipped with excitement at the sound of his deep voice saying my name.

  “Hey. Can I come in?”

  He stood. “Yeah. Yeah, come on in.”

  I gestured at the shirt as I walked across the room to his closet. “Brought this back for you.”

  After pulling open the closet door, I hung it on the same hook I’d seen him take it from when he gave it to me. I couldn’t help doing a one-second scan of the closet’s contents. A leather jacket, a pair of dark boots and . . . an American Girl bag? That one was a surprise, but I didn’t let it register. The closet had the same cedar smell his shirt did, mingled with the sweet scent of cigar smoke.

  “So how’s it going?” I asked, not wanting to leave.

  He shrugged. “Usual. You didn’t have to bring that shirt back.”

  “I don’t mind. My friend Cara came with me. I wasn’t trying to name drop, but when I told the guy at the door that I had your shirt, he let us in and we ended up with a table upstairs.”

  A hint of a smile danced on Kane’s lips. “Good. You guys should order dinner, we’ve got a great chef.”

  “I think Cara wants sushi.”

  Kane arched his brows. “Jim makes kickass sushi.”

  “Really? Okay then, we’ll—”

  “Kane.” A woman in the dark v-neck t-shirt worn by the servers appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but shit just went bad at the bar. A couple customers accused Bryce of shorting them alcohol in their drinks and they really laid into him over it. He started crying and quit.”

  “The fuck?” Kane shook his head in disbelief.

  “I’d take over, but we’re getting slammed out there. No one else knows how to bartend.”

  “Get back out there.” He stood and waved her toward the front of the club. “I’ll be right out.”

  He turned to me. “I have the worst fuckin’ luck with bartenders. You don’t know any good ones, do you?”

  I swallowed hard and grinned, trying to radiate confidence. “Just one. Me.”

  This time he did smile. It was a surprised, no way in hell kind of grin.

  We walked to the door at the same time.

  “You?” he asked, disbelief in his tone.

  “I was a bartender in law school.”

  He leaned on the doorframe. “How do you make a Manhattan?”

  “Canadian whiskey, sweet vermouth and a dash of bitters. A bit of cherry juice if I’ve got it.”

  He gave a slight nod of appreciation.

  “I make the best Lemon Drop you’ve ever had,” I said, enjoying the way he was looking at me.

  He scowled slightly. “Do I look like I drink those?”

  “I guess not,” I conceded, smiling. “But you should try mine. Not a grain of sugar on my hands, either.”

  “So when you’re getting your ass kicked and you’ve got a line four deep at your bar, how do you make a Mojito?”

  “I tell them to order something else.” I crossed my arms. “Ain’t nobody got time for mint-mashing when you’re that busy.”

  “I never should have doubted you,” Kane said, his dark eyes shining with amusement. “You are a bartender. And tonight, I am, too.”

  He left the office and I followed him down the hallway and across the crowded floor of the club. The long, dark wood bar was swarming with angry-looking customers and impatient-looking servers.

  I touched Kane’s arm to get his attention in the noisy room. His skin was warm, his bicep rock hard with muscle. He looked at my fingers on his arm and then at me.

  “Want some help?” I asked.

  He looked at the mob in front of the bar for just a second before nodding. I followed him to the end of the bar, where he lifted the swinging counter and stepped aside for me to enter first.

  “You handle the servers since they bill their own drinks,” he said in my ear. My skin prickled with warm awareness at the feel of his breath on my bare skin.

  The bar was clean and well-stocked. A martini shaker sat abandoned where Bryce had probably left it. Patrons were yelling out orders, but Kane silenced them with a glare.

  “One at a time,” he said, his tone authoritative. The clamor eased up and I turned to the group of several servers at the end of the bar.

  “Just here to help,” I said, washing my hands quickly at the nearby sink. “Who’s up first?”

  I took an order for three Cosmos and four shots, crossing paths with Kane as I went down to make them. He was headed to the sink to wash up before making his first drink.

  Even though it’d been a few years, I fell back into the rhythm quickly. Pouring, measuring and shaking were second nature to me after three years as a bartender. The recipes came back quickly for most of the drinks, and the servers were able to help with the others.

  Kane was a natural bartender. I watched him with every free second I could spare. He kept both hands busy at all times, sometimes working on more than one drink at once.

  I cleared the line of servers in less than fifteen minutes and then backed up Kane, making the more time-intensive drinks for him. I soon realized there was no catching up at Six. The group of thirsty customers just grew as the night got later.

  I’d looked up at the balcony a couple times and caught flashes of Cara’s blond hair. She was dancing. Cara made friends wherever she went. I, on the other hand, had confidence in myself but still felt awkward inserting myself into people’s social circles.

  “Here comes our relief,” Kane said after about an hour. Two men came through the swinging counter and one gave Kane a puzzled look.

  “Shift starts at nine, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Bryce quit,” Kane said.

 
The man smiled and glanced at me. “Looks like you found a much prettier replacement.”

  “She’s just helping me out,” Kane said gruffly. “Eyes on your bar, Hintz.”

  Kane nodded to the swinging counter and opened it for me. I walked through and headed for the stairs, not sure where else to go. When I stopped near the grand entrance to the second floor, Kane was still next to me.

  “Thanks, Viv,” he said, leaning down to speak in my ear. And again, major tingles. “Let me pay you for helping me out.”

  I shook my head vigorously and tipped my face up to talk in his ear. “It was fun. And last time I was here, you helped me out in a pretty big way.”

  His expression softened from its usual scowl. “At least stay for dinner. Everything’s comped tonight for you and your friend.”

  I leaned back and met his greenish brown eyes. “Will you join us?”

  He must’ve heard me or read my lips, because his face registered surprise. “You want me to have dinner with you?”

  I nodded, realizing I wanted it a lot.

  “Okay,” he said, gesturing toward the stairs. “Lead the way.”

  I went back to our small room, which was somewhat insulated from the noise. It only flowed in from the door that was open to the balcony.

  “If the attorney thing falls through, I’ll hire you as a bartender any day of the week,” Kane said, sounding impressed.

  I laughed. “Well, I’m still seventy grand in the hole for law school, so I’m hoping the attorney thing will work out.”

  “What kind of lawyer are you?”

  “Family law. Divorce and custody cases.”

  His scowl returned. “Sounds depressing as hell.”

  I shrugged. “Not really. It’s rewarding when we can resolve things amicably.”

  I sat down in one chair and Kane took the other.

  “You assume I know the word amicably?” he asked, amused.

  “I do.” I pulled my hair up to get some air on my sweaty neck. “And you do.”

  “You want me to have the temp turned down in here? Every room has its own climate control.”

  “No, I think I’ll cool down now that I’m not moving around so much.”

  A female server with short salt and pepper hair walked in. “Mr. Kane,” she said warmly. “How nice to see you up here. What may I bring the two of you to drink?”

  “Water for me,” he said.

  I cocked my head and considered. “White wine, please. Whatever kind you recommend.”

  “Very good,” she said, nodding at me. “I’m Marla, by the way. Let me know of anything you’d like. Anything at all. We pride ourselves on delivering at Six.” She turned back to Kane. “Would you like to see the chef?”

  He furrowed his brow. “I think we’ve got someone else joining us. Can we get another chair? And we’ll wait for her to order.”

  “Yes, sir. I did bring her some sushi and hot tea earlier.”

  On cue, Cara looked over from her spot on the balcony and danced into our room. “You must be Kane,” she said, her cheeks flushed from dancing. “I’m Cara.”

  “Good to meet you,” he said, nodding. “You hungry?”

  I gave Cara a look that I hoped said please let me have some time alone with him.

  “No, I had some amazing sushi earlier. I’m dancing it off now.” She danced back toward the balcony. “Nice to meet you, though.”

  “Just two, I guess,” Kane said to Marla. “What are the specials?”

  She rattled off a few things and then Kane looked at me expectantly.

  “The pan-seared grouper you mentioned,” I said. “That sounds really good.”

  “It’s delicious,” Marla assured me, turning to Kane.

  “New York strip,” he said. “Jim knows how I like it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Marla smiled at both of us and disappeared from the room in an instant.

  “You’re not still dating that douchebag from last weekend, are you?” Kane leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

  My mouth dropped open in surprise. “No. God, no. That was a blind date gone wrong.”

  “You pressed charges?”

  “Of course I did.”

  He nodded with approval.

  “Are you a bouncer here?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. If he was, bouncers at this club were treated like royalty.

  “Naw, I’m not a bouncer. I’m a little of everything, I guess. I’m part owner.”

  I nodded with realization. “Of course. Makes sense. And your name . . . is Kane your first name or your last name?”

  He made a grunting sound. “It’s my last name, but everyone calls me Kane.”

  “So you’re like Shakira? Madonna?”

  “Yeah, I’m exactly like them,” he said with a wry smile.

  We talked about my work and the ins and outs of owning a club, and it seemed like no time until our food was brought in. My grouper was served with some kind of garlicky, cheesy potatoes that melted in my mouth and sautéed asparagus.

  “This is amazing,” I said after finishing a bite, gesturing at my plate. “It’s really good.”

  Kane nodded, eating his steak and baked potato in silence. I used the opportunity to study the lines of his biceps and chest in his black t-shirt. He was broad. All muscle. On his arms, his tattoos were works of art, coasting in and out of the ridged lines.

  We’d almost finished eating when a hulking black man whose bald head matched Kane’s came into the room.

  “What’s up, Rosie?” Kane asked.

  “Sorry, boss.” His voice was a rich baritone. He glanced back and forth between me and Kane.

  “Rosie, that’s Viv. Viv, John Rose. But everyone calls him Rosie.”

  “Sorry for interrupting, Viv,” Rosie said, turning his attention back to Kane. “It’s ten o’clock.”

  Kane nodded. “Can’t Jeff open it?”

  “He’s off tonight.”

  “That’s right. Lazy bastard. I’ll be right down.”

  Kane stood and met my eyes as Rosie nodded and left the room, barely fitting through the doorway.

  “I have to go open the vault for the deposit,” he said in a low tone. “I’m the only one who can do it.”

  My heart raced as I looked up at him. I had no more excuses to come back here, and I didn’t want this to be it. I was more intrigued by Kane than I’d been by a man in a long time.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I said, standing.

  He turned for the door, looking at me over his shoulder. “Thanks for the bartending help.”

  “Can we go out sometime?” I blurted, my cheeks warming.

  Kane turned around and looked at me, his lips parted with surprise. Several seconds passed. I’d apparently stunned this brawny, hard-edged man into total silence.

  Kane

  IT TOOK ME A FEW seconds to recover from the shock of what Viv had just said. “Uh . . . you’re saying you wanna go out . . . with me?”

  Her cheeks, already a sexy shade of pink, darkened further. “Right. Yes.”

  I was thirty-four years old and had never gone out on a date. The women in my world didn’t expect to be wined and dined. Their desires were much more . . . primal.

  “But . . .” I wrapped my hand around the back of my neck and exhaled deeply. I didn’t know what else to say. Had she seen me? Did I really look like the kind of guy who rang women’s doorbells with a bouquet in hand?

  “You’re already seeing someone.” She looked at the floor like she wanted to sink into it.

  Fuck. I hated doing this to her. She was a strong, beautiful woman. Not to mention smart and sexy as hell. How could I tell her it wasn’t her, but me, who was the problem?

  “No,” I said, more adamantly than I meant to. She looked up and met my gaze, hope glistening in her big, hazel eyes.

  Another few awkward seconds passed.

  “It’s fine,” she said, reaching for her bag. “Honestly. Don’t worry about it.”
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  I couldn’t do this to her. Viv was a woman who deserved better than to put herself out there and feel rejected in any way.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, we can definitely go out.”

  Her eyes found mine again. And damn, did she have pretty eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Very sure.” I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. “Can I have your number?”

  Her shoulders sank with an exhale of relief. How in the hell had I managed to draw the interest of a woman like this? She was stunning. I’d watched guys checking her out at the bar. And how could they not? She was tall, with curves in all the right places, gorgeous eyes, dark waves begging to be pulled just hard enough and a smile that lit the whole goddamned room.

  She recited her number and I typed it into my phone.

  “I’ll call you,” I said. “Is next weekend okay?”

  She nodded, looking like she was trying to hold back a smile. Damn, was I in deep shit. A woman like her deserved a real date, and I didn’t have a fucking clue how to plan one. I had some recon to do.

  Another thing I had no idea how to do was say goodbye to her. I ended up nodding and giving her a half wave before leaving the room.

  Smooth, Kane. Really fucking smooth.

  I went downstairs, looking out over the full house on the first floor on my way. I’d been concerned that the novelty of this place would wear off after a few months. Jeff said it wouldn’t, and he’d been right so far.

  The strength of this business had to hold up. We were making great money and I was saving and reinvesting, but this was all I had. A guy with a past like mine wasn’t gonna get hired at a regular job.

  I opened the vault for the deposit and then locked it back up. I was overdue for rounds of all the areas of the club, so that was up next.

  I was about to head back to the kitchen when I saw Rosie. He was standing off to the side of the main floor, just watching.

  “What’s goin’ on in here tonight, Rosie?” I asked, standing against the wall next to him.

  “Pretty quiet, boss.”

  I nodded. Rosie was often a man of few words. It was one of the reasons we got along so well.

  “So, uh . . .” I cleared my throat and considered how to approach my question. “I’ve got a customer asking about a good spot to take a woman on a date, and you know I don’t know shit about that stuff. What should I tell him?”