And as it happened, he had an hour to kill.
* * *
Whatever the deal was with the guy from table twelve, Darcy didn’t have time for it.
To think she’d pegged him as harmless.
Not in general, no. He definitely had the whole devastating male magnetism thing happening with those roughed up looks and his buttoned-down suit. Every set of female eyes in the place and probably half the men had homed in on him the second he entered the bar. But he hadn’t been on the make—and she’d clocked enough hours in this lounge over the past two years to be able to tell. So she hadn’t paid him much mind. At least not until she turned around to find him watching her with some half-cocked gotcha grin, looking like he’d busted her with her hand in the cookie jar.
Because he’d caught her laughing.
Something she didn’t let happen very often at work as it tended to give the male clientele the wrong idea about what kind of good time she might be interested in having.
But then, tonight of all nights, what did it really matter?
Leaning a hip against the bar, she waited for Mr. Not-So-Harmless-After-All at table twelve’s fresh Scotch.
This was her last night on the job. Her last—she checked her watch and felt a surge of excitement—two hours. And then she was through.
Sheryl Crow echoed through her mind, singing about leaving Las Vegas, and it was all Darcy could do not to put a little swing in her step as she pushed off the bar. Two more hours of tables to turn, drinks to serve, tips to make. And then she’d move on to life’s next adventure.
Though even as she thought it, the word seemed an off fit to the relentlessly conservative way she managed her life.
Adventure implied risks and unknowns. Challenges. Excitement. That wasn’t exactly how Darcy rolled. She couldn’t afford to. Not after the steep price she’d paid to ensure her independence. She knew the suffocating experience of being at the wrong man’s mercy and she’d been willing to sacrifice her education to facilitate that escape. Drop out of high school and get the job that set her free.
She’d sworn never to allow herself to be in a position of dependence again, which meant she took care of herself. She played it safe. Stayed in control. Lived within her means. And if the cost inherent to a life that felt safe was adventure of the tall, watered-down variety? She’d gladly pay it.
Stopping at table twelve, she leveled him with a flat stare. “Your Scotch, sir. Anything else?”
His speculative look had her wondering what this guy’s game was exactly.
And then his focus lowered to her mouth, causing an unfamiliar dip and roll deep in her belly. One she met with a stern frown because oh, no, she was not going to be tempted by this guy. No way.
* * *
“Relax, Darcy. I get it. Not interested. Couldn’t be more clear if you were wearing it on a T-shirt like the table of bridesmaids over there.”
Her gaze shifted to the three women and the corner and her mouth twitched, making something in his gut fire up. Though just as quickly she had the impulse tamped down.
“I’m not hitting on you,” he assured. “This is about filling some hang time. You’re my temporary hobby.”
A slender brow pushed up. “How’s that.”
“I like the smile I saw. And I want one of my own.”
That smooth hip of hers rocked out to one side. “You want a smile? I’ll save you the hassle.” She flashed him a grin barely a step above the flat business she doled out to every Tom, Dick and Harry who rolled through her section and Jeff shook his head, giving in to his own more sincere version.
“Nice try. But you’re not going to put me off with some cheap imitation. I’ve seen the real thing, and now I want one for myself. An honest to goodness, hard-earned, full tilt smile. Bonus for the laugh. And no pity grins, either.”
She opened her mouth to say something—probably another dismissive shutdown, but then pulled her mouth to the side as she studied him.
“So you want to work for it?” she asked.
And hot damn, was she actually going along? “I’m not into easy.”
Her eyes were definitely on his now. Engaged in a way almost as satisfying as her elusive smile had been.
“Look—”
“Jeff,” he supplied, without trying to take her hand because touching her would probably get him slammed up against an impenetrable wall of “no” faster than he could blink.
“Look, Jeff, you’re interesting. Which is a nice change from the norm. But I’m working so I can’t really hang out and be your hobby or anything else.”
“Not a problem. I know you’ve got to work. So on average, how much time do you think you allot each customer outside of taking their actual drink order? I mean for the niceties: Hello, how’s your day? Good, yours? Good, know what you want? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...”
“Fifteen seconds.”
Nice try. “I’m talking the chatty ones.”
“Forty-five.”
“And if they’re ordering, you’ll give them the time?”
As if sensing a trap, she answered hesitantly, “Yes.”
“Great. I’d like to send an order of white chocolate martinis to the bridesmaids over there. But tell them it’s from the manager or something, not me.”
When she just stared at him, he stared back. “I think our forty-five seconds are up. I mean, unless you’d like to sit down. You’re welcome to stay for a drink. Take a break.”
“This is because you’re bored?” she asked, those steely gray eyes narrowing on him in a way that said he had her focus completely.
Had he really said he wasn’t into easy? Because this was shaping up to be just that...and there wasn’t a single molecule in his body or thought in his head, not totally into where it was going.
Jeff shrugged, raising his Scotch before taking a swallow. “I like to keep busy.”
THREE
“Consider it a public service.”
Darcy set the Scotch on a fresh napkin and, fighting her threatening smile with everything she had, slid it in front of Jeff. The guy who was making her last night in Vegas one she’d never forget. “Letting you take me out? Okay, let’s hear it.”
“Are you really going to make me say it?” he asked with a look all but begging her to make him do so.
She should walk away. She didn’t date the customers and never gave into even this much interaction. But there was something about him. Something that wouldn’t let her put him off the way she did with every other guy who crossed her path.
Even now, she could feel the corner of her mouth nearly betraying her as it threatened a smile. And Jeff knew it. He was watching, one brow raised. And then his eyes were locked back with hers. “Almost had you.”
Yeah, it had been close.
“Okay, I give. How is my going out with you a public service?”
Satisfaction lit his smile.
“Because of my ego.”
When she crossed her arms, he went on. “You’ve seen it. It’s absurd. Honestly, the size is almost a handicap.”
This was going to be good. Her brow pushed up, wanting more, but unwilling to open her mouth to ask for fear she’d break down laughing.
“If you crush this beast— Darcy, I’m not going to be able to drag it out of here.”
“That big?”
“Like you really need to ask.”
This guy was trouble. And exactly the kind of fun she deserved on her last night in Vegas. So long as it didn’t go any further than a little flirtatious back-and-forth.
“I’m telling you, it’ll be flailing around on the floor. Going boneless when I try to pick it up.”
“Wow, almost like another person.”
He offered a nod. “I call it Connor
.”
“An ego named Connor.” Now she’d heard everything...and somehow it only made her want to hear more.
He let out a short laugh and rubbed a hand over his mouth as if trying to push the smile off his lips before going on. “And here’s the problem. That ego’s going to need some serious stroking to recover from your rejection.”
Her eyes started to narrow, but he waved her off.
“It’ll demand I hit on every female to cross my path. Forcing me to turn on the charm, we’re talking full blast—”
“Like a fire hose?” she supplied, knowing she shouldn’t have said it, but—well, she kind of couldn’t help it.
Jeff’s mouth was open, halfway to the next ridiculous part of his pitch when he froze. Cranked his eyes over to hers, the look in them one of amusement and warning.
“Exactly like a fire hose.”
But for the way this guy was working her, there was something about him that seemed safe. Whatever it was, it was tempting her to push what she knew better than to play with. “So after you spray all these women down with your big hose. What happens then?”
“Widespread devastation. Women weeping everywhere. Broken hearts littering the streets. They’re all going to fall in love with me, but all I’m really looking for is a date. Nothing serious. Just some fun.”
Ahh, the circle back to her and suddenly eye contact seemed more than she could handle. “And this is what happens every time a woman turns you down?”
Jeff shrugged, reaching for his Scotch. “Wouldn’t know. It hasn’t happened yet. Seriously, what kind of decent woman would want that kind of emotional carnage on her conscience?”
Darcy looked this guy up and down, taking in the details she’d glossed over before. The overly thick shock of dark hair with a mess of unruly cowlicks at total odds with the serious, straight cut of his classic suit.
But if the hair and suit were a working contradiction, they were nothing compared to his face. The heavy, squared-off jaw and single flashing dimple. The rough look of a nose that had seen a break or two and the ridiculously long fringe of dark lashes over eyes a soft, earthy hazel. On looks alone, this was a man who could keep a girl guessing. Add his confidence and charm to the mix and she imagined most women wouldn’t mind playing Jeff’s guessing game for as long as it was on offer.
Yeah, he was definitely more dangerous than she’d given him credit for.
Time to clear things up.
“Look, Jeff. I’m flattered, but I don’t date customers. Ever.”
“I noticed when I came in. I like it.”
Mmm, and this she was definitely familiar with. “Because it makes me a challenge?”
“Yeah,” he answered with an unrepentant grin and glint of mischief in his eyes.
And okay. Not so familiar after all. “Wow, and honest, too.”
“It’s the best policy. Eliminates the potential for all kinds of trouble. Ensures everyone is on the same page. But back to the issue at hand...I’m a fun date. You’d have a good time. There’s got to be somewhere in town you’ve always wanted to go but haven’t gotten around to. Tell me what it is and I’ll take you tonight.”
Darcy was about to shut him down, but as she stood there looking at that half-playful, too tempting smile all she could think was how many things she’d told herself she’d get to sometime, but never managed to do. And how long it had been since she’d really had fun.
Now her time was up. She was leaving tomorrow.
Jeff was offering her a chance to— God, was she seriously considering this?
She never said yes. Never gave in and did the fun thing for fun’s sake. Maybe tonight, after living the straight and narrow for so very long, she could afford to break the rules without worrying about tomorrow.
“I’ll think about it.”
* * *
A few minutes later, Jeff was exchanging back claps with Connor Reed, whose call had been the typical success his buddy made of everything he set his mind to—the only glaring exception being a broken engagement from two weeks prior. One Connor wouldn’t acknowledge any kind of emotional reaction to whatsoever. Hence, the bromance intervention in progress.
Because Jeff had been there. He knew what it was to be blindsided with the realization that the perfect romance you were about to bet your future on—not so perfect after all.
“No, I don’t love him, Jeff. It’s not about him. Or you. It’s about me feeling trapped and doing something desperate to escape. I’m sorry.”
Yeah, it sucked.
So, they’d done the gambling bit the night before, hit a few clubs and bonded in the manly way guys were most comfortable bonding. Thereby ensuring the whole guys’ weekend spiel Jeff had lured Connor in with, wasn’t a total snow job. But the grunts and knuckle bump portion of the weekend was at a close, and their friendship being what it was, Jeff made no bones about it.
Pushing the Scotch he’d ordered in front of Connor, he jut his chin at the drink. “You might want to get a head start on that.”
Connor shot him the half smile he’d never quite figured out how to make whole. “Little old for drinking games, aren’t we?”
“Time to put your big girl panties on, man. I brought you here to talk feelings. Deep emotional feelings. And because you know I’m your best friend and always right, you’re going to sit there and take it like the man I know you can be.”
The half smile was gone. “Jeff, I told you—”
“Don’t bother. This is going to happen. But because I respect your stunted emotional intimacy boundaries, once I’ve said my piece we’ll have a few minutes of smack talk, just to get back on comfortable ground and then I’m going to give you your space and take off. Most likely taking the blonde bombshell who happens to be our server with me. Deal?”
Connor picked up the glass in front of him and took a fortifying slug. Then cocking his jaw to the side, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Okay. Let’s have it. But make it fast.”
Jeff caught Darcy watching him from over by the bar, a little furrow marring the otherwise flawless skin of her brow. He cast her a quick wink and then folded his arms over the table returning his attention to Connor.
“Your wish, my command. So, let me set the tone... I love you, man....”
A few dozen old adages, choice idioms, apt metaphors and select bits of fortune-cookie wisdom later, Jeff’s work was done. There were things he’d needed the guy to hear, and things he needed to hear back. As it turned out, Connor hadn’t been so bad off after all.
At least not in the way he’d imagined.
Emotionally stunted, however, didn’t quite cover it as far as the intimacy issues went. But that was a can of worms for another trip. Connor had given him his walking papers a few minutes ago and now Jeff leaned back against the bar, watching as Darcy worried her bottom lip.
No, she wasn’t the unreachable, cold woman he thought at all.
“What about your friend? He looked really upset while you guys were talking.”
Uncomfortable, yes. Upset, probably not. “Turns out the broken heart may have been more a case of dinged ego.”
“You men and your egos. Does he name his, too?”
Jeff waved her in closer. “Guys don’t tell other guys what they name their egos.”
This time when he saw the little twitch at the corner of her mouth, he acted without thought and brought his thumb up to brush the vulnerable spot threatening to give him exactly what he’d been working for.
At the bare touch, her lips parted on a small gasp and their eyes met. Then quietly but firmly she said, “I won’t go back to your room with you.”
Jeff brushed that little corner of her mouth again and then withdrew his hand, parking it firmly in his pocket. “So when are we leaving?”
She se
arched his face as if looking for a reason to say no, and for one crushing instant when she ducked her head and glanced away, he thought he’d lost her. But she was just untying her apron. And when she looked back at him, it was with eyes that were confident, clear and determined. Excited. “As soon as I get out of this uniform.”
* * *
“Does this count as sweeping you off your feet?” Jeff shouted, the laugh lines branching from his eyes, deeply creased, and the grin promising pure mayhem, gone full tilt.
“I’m totally carried away!” she gasped around the elated laughter she’d given herself over to.
The night breeze whipped at Darcy’s hair as she careened down to Freemont Street, gripping the security harness tight as she went and wondering if this rush of unadulterated exhilaration had more to do with the zip line or the man a few feet away.
Still decked out in his suit and rocking a very double-oh-seven vibe with the harness and wind and all, Jeff cocked his head in her direction. “Your turn to pick next, beautiful. I’m looking for some more local flavor. It better be good.”
They’d been going back and forth for hours already, starting with a light dinner at one of the city’s most coveted hot spots, where a twenty-second phone call from Jeff five minutes prior to their arrival scored them an immediate table complete with the VIP treatment and a breathtaking view. The restaurant had been her choice. One she’d only suggested because Jeff’s cocky grin and wild assertion he could get them into any place she wanted to go had been a challenge she couldn’t resist.
Turned out, there was more to the guy than talk.
Dinner, despite the upscale locale, had been casual and easy. The conversation varied and entertaining. Jeff was one of those men who seemed to know something about everything, and—whether the topic be movies, her wish list of travel destinations or the local economy—listened as much as he talked. And by the time they’d finished their coffees, Darcy had stopped second-guessing whether agreeing to go out with him had been a mistake, and was looking forward to finding out where they would go next.
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