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THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Abby pulled into the empty parking lot of Swerve. She was running late, having just come from her job interview. She thought that it went well, and her hopes were high. Still wearing her suit, she crossed the parking lot. Inside the club, Abby started for the ladies’ restroom, so she could change into her miniskirt and official Swerve tank top. But she stopped. The bathroom was located at the other end of the club. She was already late for her shift, and any minute she could spare getting ready would be great. So instead of heading down to the restroom, she ducked into Trevor’s office and shut the door behind her. He wouldn’t mind. Hell, she could go in, change and be out prepping the bar before he even showed up. If he showed up on time.
He probably won’t be if he went home with that blonde tart last night. Maybe she had herself a couple more screaming orgasms, Abby thought with a bitter grimace as she pulled off her blazer. She’d noticed the woman hanging around for the rest of the night, never taking her eyes from Trevor. And when they had walked out, locking up the bar, the blonde had been waiting for him in the parking lot. Not wanting to stick around to see the obvious outcome, Abby gave Trevor a brief, friendly fist bump and then they’d parted ways.
“Okay, that wasn’t fair,” she chastised herself as she unbuttoned her blouse. “Both he and the incredible Screaming Orgasm Lady are adults. Maybe the only things screaming were her pores under all that makeup.” Heh.
“That wasn’t fair, either,” she muttered, trying to convince herself. “They can do whatever they want.” And she wasn’t about to blame a woman who might have Trevor all to herself for a night. Just because Abby had passed up the opportunity to spend what would have been an unbelievable night with him, it didn’t mean that any other sane woman in the world would do the same thing.
* * *
TREVOR PARKED HIS car next to Abby’s in the Swerve parking lot. It was March and the chill of winter still hung in the air. He wished spring would come soon, as he was looking forward to getting his motorcycle back out on the road. His car was nice enough, but driving it paled in comparison to taking a bike out on the open road. He unbuckled his seat belt and yawned, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. He was beat. He’d been at the club until three that morning, and he was even later getting home than usual, after waiting for the cab he’d called to pick up the blonde woman who’d been flirting with him all night. He remembered the weary sigh he’d given when he saw her standing outside the door, looking for him. She had been persistent, but he’d sent her on her way.
Once home, he’d had one hell of a time getting to sleep. After tossing and turning in his bed, he’d considered it useless, poured himself a double scotch and collapsed in front of his television, and it was daylight before he felt his eyes drift closed in surrender. Physically, he was in great shape, but a busy night at the bar now seemed to take more out of him than it used to. When he was in his twenties, he could work all night and still have the energy to party until daylight. But lately the aches in his feet, wrists and joints were more pronounced, as was the weariness of his mind, and he wondered how much longer he would be able to keep up with the pace.
But it wasn’t the hard work or even the blonde woman who had waited for him outside the club that kept his mind racing in the early hours of this morning. It was Abby Shaw. Every time he had closed his eyes she was there, her long legs, short blond hair, bright smile, the feisty glint in her eye and certainly her shapely ass when she bent over to retrieve the liquor bottle—it was as if he had memorized her every feature. Since that night in Vegas when he’d kissed her, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
They hadn’t even spoken of the night, the party at Jamie’s hotel or even the city itself. It all reminded him that it was as telling a sign as any that she wasn’t interested in pursuing any sort of relationship with him. Which was fine with him since he sure wasn’t going to date one of his employees.
And then there was their friendship to consider. He didn’t want to risk losing her. Although she was gorgeous and sexy and a lot of fun to hang out with, he saw what happened when Abby got scared and ran away from her boyfriends. She pushed them aside, usually because a man tried to get close to her. He knew there was something in her past that made her feel that way, but she’d never told him what it was. With how Trevor had been feeling lately, the weariness that accompanied his desire to settle down and act like an adult, he knew that either way, it wasn’t in the cards for him and Abby to be any more than friends.
He scrubbed his stubbled jaw with his palm and realized that he’d forgotten to shave. Great. With one more yawn for good measure, Trevor reached into his pocket for his keys to the club and from the backseat pulled a case of top-shelf vodka. People went crazy for the stuff and didn’t mind paying the exorbitant price for it. To each their own. Those customers paid his bills, and the tips cushioned his savings and investment accounts nicely. He hefted the case into his arms, made sure he had a good handle on it and headed to the club.
Inside, he grimaced at the glare of the lights. He pushed his sunglasses farther up his nose and walked to the stockroom to unload the box of liquor. He pulled one bottle out to put behind the bar and then headed back. Before he made it back to the bar, Trevor stopped at the closed door of his office. Strange. He didn’t normally close it after checking out each night. He walked to the door, still holding the bottle, and pushed it open.
Surprised, Trevor dropped the bottle to the floor, and the frosted glass shattered into hundreds of liquor-soaked pieces. Abby stood in front of him, wearing nothing but her short black skirt and high heels. The smell of expensive vodka filled the air, as she clutched her black tank top in front of her stomach, and it took Trevor less than one second to focus on the wide expanse of smooth, alabaster skin of her high, full breasts and flat stomach. They stood in stunned silence for a couple of beats. Trevor was oblivious to everything but her, even the alcohol seeping into his sneakers.
It was a few moments before she broke free of her shock and came to her senses. “Oh, God, Trevor,” she screeched and raised her arms to cover her perfect breasts. Trevor frowned briefly, mourning the loss of the view of her dusty-pink nipples.
“Oh, shit!” He became cognizant of the mess at his feet and bent to clean it up. “I’m sorry.” He stared at the floor, trying to look away from her, attending to the glass. “I didn’t even know you were in here.” He raised his hand and turned his head slightly. “What are you doing in here?”
“I came in here to change out of my suit.” In his periphery he could see her turn her back to him and pull her tank top over her head. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my office.” When Trevor looked up a little, he caught her dark, distorted reflection in the screen of the turned-off computer monitor on his desk. He felt like a lecher, but he couldn’t force his eyes away.
“But you’re early,” she protested. He watched her reflection as she straightened her shirt over her chest and down to her waist. And she huffed out a breath that made her breasts rise and then fall. “I’m done. You can turn around now.”
Trevor did as she told him. She was fully dressed, stuffing her business suit into her duffel bag. She didn’t look at him.
“I’m sorry,” she said with an outward breath. “I shouldn’t have used your office.”
“It’s fine. Use it anytime you want,” he told her. “I’ll just knock when the door is closed. Who knows when there will be a half-naked woman in here?” He laughed.
“Knowing what I do about you, it really could happen at any time,” she retorted, one eyebrow raised.
Trevor frowned at her approximation of him; nothing like that had ever happened to him at work. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I really didn’t know that you were in here.”
Abby laughed and pushed past him. “You didn’t embarrass me at all. I know I look good naked.” She winked at him and walked behind the bar to start work.
Trevor exhaled roughly and watched her. He replayed her words in his brain: I know I look good naked.
Yeah, he thought. No lie there.
* * *
IT WAS A few hours later, and Abby ducked into the small backroom off the bar for a quick, much-needed break to sit down and drink some water. Her feet were sore—why did she always opt to wear heels to work? She rolled her ankles and pulled out her cell phone. On the screen she saw a notification of a missed call from a number that was only vaguely familiar to her. She dialed her voice mail. The mystery was soon solved when the message started playing, and she realized it was the voice of Michael Arnett, the man who had interviewed her earlier that day.
She turned the volume up on her phone, so she could hear over the din of the club. “Hello, Ms. Shaw,” Arnett’s voice on the recorded message sounded in her ear. “I’m just calling to let you know that we really enjoyed meeting you today...”
She smiled and sat straight. This is it.
“But we have decided to go in another direction with hiring for the position. We’ll keep you in mind in the future. Good luck in your job search.”
Abby disconnected the phone and slumped in her chair, huffing out a frustrated breath. She thought that she’d completely killed that interview, and to find out that she hadn’t gotten the job—well, it sucked.
This night just keeps getting better and better...
Abby frowned and mentally checked off yet another opportunity that she’d missed. She glanced at her watch—just over four hours left before she could go home and wallow in self-pity. She might as well get back out there. She’d been away from the bar for five minutes, leaving Trevor on his own. She stood and opened the door, and she looked out at the bar. Trevor somehow managed to keep the place going on his own. He didn’t really need her back there and she was certain he only offered her the job to be nice. She wasn’t a great bartender and she felt she was in his way most of the time. But he never complained.
With a sigh, she walked behind the bar and plastered her biggest smile on her face—as phony as a three-dollar bill. She was bummed, but she wouldn’t let it get in the way of doing her job. She might only be a bartender, but for now it was her job and she would do her best.
Trevor caught her eye and gave her a curious look, furrowing his brows at her. She shook her head, dismissing him. He watched her for a moment longer before returning to his work and letting her get on with hers.
* * *
WHEN LAST CALL sounded and all the patrons had stumbled out, Trevor took a deep breath, exhausted. They were busy, maybe even busier than they had been the night before. Spring break meant a bigger crush of new faces, in addition to loyal locals, in the bar. Financially, it was great. Jamie would be happy with the numbers and Trevor and Abby had both benefited as well, but they’d worked their asses off for their tips.
Trevor locked the door and watched Abby as she wet a blue cloth with sanitizer and started cleaning up. He knew that there was definitely something going on with her. Ever since she’d taken her break, her demeanor had changed. Sure, she was smiling, but he knew better. He knew it was fake. Something had upset her. But what?
“Everything okay over there?” he called out to her, approaching the bar.
“Yeah, fine,” she responded, scrubbing a spot on the stainless steel without looking up.
Trevor wasn’t at all convinced. He walked back to her, leaning against the bar. “Are you sure? It looks like something is bothering you.”
“No,” she started. “Well, yes.” She threw down her rag. “I got a call about my interview this morning...”
“Really?” Trevor was interested. He hoped for a happy ending to her story, but, by the look on her face, he knew it was anything but.
“Yeah, I didn’t get it. They went in another direction. HR speak for ‘you suck and never come back.’”
He frowned. “You don’t suck, Abby. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
So that was it. She was disappointed that she hadn’t gotten the job. Trevor wasn’t looking forward to losing her, but he didn’t like to see her beautiful smile faltering from frustration and disappointment. Trevor hated to see her upset. He reached into the beer cooler under the bar and withdrew two bottles. He popped the top off one and passed it to Abby.
She accepted it, raising an eyebrow. “Drinking on the job? That’s not like you.”
He shrugged and opened his own beer before he began wiping down the counters. “We had a crazy night here. I think we’ve earned it.”
She nodded. “That’s true. Thank you.” She saluted him with the green bottle and took a long swallow.
He watched her meticulously tidy the counter behind her and arrange the liquor bottles, making sure they were located on the appropriate shelves and the spouts were clean. While the servers were responsible for making sure the rest of the club was clean, he and Abby concentrated on the bar and making sure the cash registers and the bank deposit balanced at the end of the night.
They cleaned side by side, not talking, both using extra force to scrub the surfaces, whether it was necessary or not. Trevor wondered if they were both taking out their frustration—sexual or otherwise—on the countertops. They cleaned and then recleaned. Trevor normally insisted on a spotless bar, but they were in danger of entirely wiping the chrome from the bar top.
The cocktail servers had all finished their own work and left by the time Trevor and Abby pulled away from the now-immaculate bar area. Trevor looked around and realized they were alone in the building.
Abby threw down her cloth and finally proclaimed their work done. She disposed of their empty beer bottles, and he watched her as she stretched to reach the bottles on the top shelf behind the bar. Trevor couldn’t help but appreciate the length of her body, her shirt riding up to give him a peek at the smooth skin on her back, and he saw the top of the butterfly tattoo that he knew was there, just above her hip. He managed to somehow avert his eyes just in time as she turned around holding a bottle of expensive tequila and two shot glasses.
He looked at her bounty, eyebrow raised in question. She ignored him as she poured two shots. “I’m in need of something a little stronger than beer tonight,” she explained. “What do you say?”
“Yeah, what the hell?” he said with a smile. He took the shot she offered before he turned back to the cash register and began counting the money.
Abby took her shot, as well, and then she glanced around the bar. He knew she was looking for something else to clean. “Why don’t you go sit down?” he told her. “I just need a couple of minutes here.” It was a rule that the staff always leave the club in groups at the end of the night. He didn’t want any of them vulnerable late at night in the parking lot. Who knew what kind of drunks or weirdos were out there?
“Sure.” Abby shrugged her shoulders and, taking the tequila bottle, she walked to a nearby table.
Trevor removed the money from the register and looked up briefly to see her pour another shot, a frown taking over her entire gorgeous face.
“You’ll find something, Abby,” he told her. Her eyes rose from her bottle to hit his directly, her gaze cutting a path straight to his belly. “Just keep at it. You’re a catch. Any business would be lucky to have you. I know I am.” A swell of melancholy rose in his chest, for her sadness and his own. He would miss her like crazy if she worked anywhere else.
“Does that mean I can use you as a reference?” she asked with a mirthful smile, before raising the shot glass to her mouth and knocking back the tequila.
Trevor laughed, but the sound died as he watched the muscles in her delicate throat bounce as she swallowed the liquor. When she brought the glass down to the table, it hit with a heavy clink. How much time did he spend watching Abby while she looked absolutely sexy doing completely mundane things? “Pour me another?” he asked, shoving his glass across the bar. She did as he asked, and then she poured her own.
“You trying to get me drunk?”
“I would never think of it,” he said with a wink. “Plus, I’m not the one pouring.”
“Well, I can’t let you drink alone,” she explained carefully.
“How generous of you,” he said, laughing, and lofted his shot glass. “Sláinte,” he said. He felt the second shot hit his belly, not as harsh as the first. But he was glad that she’d selected a smoother, higher-end tequila for their bingeing. Trevor didn’t think he could handle the burn of a cheaper brand.
“What’s that?”
“An Irish toast. A cheers to good health. My old man used to say it a lot before he took a drink.”
“Sláinte,” she repeated. “I like it.”
“I’m pretty certain that neither of us can drive home now,” he took a breath, the tequila starting to hit him in the pit of his empty stomach.
Abby shrugged as she sauntered back to her table. Trevor couldn’t help but notice the sway of her hips under her short skirt. She threw a look over her shoulder. “I don’t live far. I’ll walk. And I’m not quite ready to head home to an empty apartment just yet. Plus, I’m having fun relaxing right here. It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out.”
“It has been far too long,” Trevor agreed, closing the register with an authoritative slam. He finished with the cash duties by printing off the sales receipts and totaling the nightly deposit. He could officially call it another great night in the books, as he looked over the numbers. The bar was doing well in his capable hands, if he did say so himself.
He picked up a stack of bills and left the bar to sit with Abby at the booth. He cut the stack in half and passed over her share of the tips.
Abby took her money. “Nice. Thanks.”
“Pretty good night, huh?”
Abby flicked through the stack of bills with her thumb. “It sure was.”
“What are you going to do with your vast riches?” he asked her, joking, pocketing his own share.
“Well, I think I’m going to splurge on some grand luxuries.” She sighed wistfully. “You know, things like electricity, cell phone bill—ooh, there’s some really fancy bread and milk that I’ve been dying to try,” she finished with a laugh.
Trevor laughed with her, but she worried him. He frowned. “Are you doing okay, financially? I can schedule you for more hours, or I can float you a loan, if you want.”
She shook her head and put a hand on his arm. Her light touch made his heart stutter in his chest. “Trevor, I’m fine. It was just a joke. Ha-ha. Sure, it’s a little harder to pay the rent with Maya gone. But I am fine. See?” She picked up the stack of bills in front of her and waved it in Trevor’s face.
“Thanks to you, I’ve got a job where I make fat stacks of cash and I can drink for free.” For emphasis she poured two more shots. After she swallowed, she giggled. “I’ll be fine until I find a real job.” She smacked a palm to her forehead. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I know this is your job. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine, Abby,” he assured her, sweeping a hand through the air of the empty club. “All of this is my kingdom.”
“You certainly get your pick of the ladies in the kingdom, that’s for sure.”
Trevor frowned again. He didn’t normally use the club to pick up women. He never overserved them to make them bend to his will, and he never went for the college girls, who were always trying to get him in bed... And he never let his staff see him go home with a woman. He didn’t want to set a bad example and have them to think it was okay or an acceptable business practice. But he wondered where she got the idea that he did.
“What are you talking about?” While he had been a bit wild in the past, he wasn’t the man whore that she seemed to think he was. He hadn’t even been with anyone in months. While Trevor didn’t normally care what people thought of him, it stung that Abby had a negative opinion of him. What she thought mattered to him.
“You know,” Abby said, with a slight slur. “That woman last night, that girl in Vegas...”
When Abby trailed off, Trevor was surprised. “What girl?” It was the first time either of them had mentioned their trip to Sin City.
“That girl at Jamie’s party,” she went on. “After we parted ways, I went back to my room, you met her at the bar.”
“You came back to the party?” Trevor narrowed his eyes at her. He barely remembered the woman who had sat beside him at the bar in Vegas.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
She scoffed. “Why does it matter? You were otherwise occupied.”
“That’s not how it was, Abby—” He wanted to clear the air, explain that he wasn’t the complete horndog player that she apparently thought he was. “You’ve got the wrong idea. I didn’t spend the night with her. I finished my drink and went to bed. Alone. And that woman last night? I called her a cab and waited here until she was in it.”
“It’s okay!” she insisted. “You’re a guy. You have those typical male urges. And you’re hot. I see how women look at you and how you talk to them. You’re smooth. I’m surprised you don’t have to beat the women off with a stick every night.”
Trevor leaned back, away from her touch, and cleared his throat roughly around the lump that had formed there. Abby wasn’t far off. He was often on the receiving end of female attention, but what he couldn’t tell her was that, since that night in Vegas, he hadn’t been interested in any other woman who came on to him. They were quiet for a moment. “So, any new fellows on the scene?” he asked her, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself.
Abby poured another shot, knocked it back and laughed bitterly. “No,” she said. “There are certainly no fellows—new or otherwise—on the scene. Oh! I haven’t told you, have I?”
“Told me what?”
“Well, after I ended things with Luke a few months back, I decided to give up men,” she said, slamming her glass to the table with a loud thud.
