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Mac wanted the chance to find out.
“At least those years were filled with love,” she said.
He met her gaze. “Can’t see tying yourself to someone for any other reason. Might as well wrap a noose around your neck otherwise.”
She cleared her throat. “Would you mind changing the subject?”
“Why? Marriage makes you uncomfortable?” he asked lightly. If he had his way, he’d have plenty of time later to pry her secrets out of her. She obviously had many. “Don’t tell Zee or he’ll be giving you an earful about tradition, respect and good old-fashioned love.” The older man’s distinctive cackle filtered into the room.
She smiled, the wide grin knocking him senseless. There was no way he’d survive until closing with her hanging around, dodging his every move.
“He’s harmless…and sweet.” She shut the door behind her and walked inside, moving closer until he caught a whiff of the tangy soap she’d used during her shower. Though he missed the hint of peaches clinging to her skin, this scent worked on him, too.
She drew a deep breath. “Kind of like you,” she murmured, a nervous tremor touching her voice.
He lifted her chin with his finger. “Sweetheart, I’m the furthest thing from sweet you’ll find in these parts.” Cold, withdrawn, disinterested. Those were the nicer adjectives some of the women at The Resort used to describe the blunt manner in which he’d turned down their advances. But he’d learned the hard way, letting them down gently never worked.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.” She braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back until he hit the wall. Then with another tremulous breath, she leaned her body against his.
And then she kissed him. Hard and fast, as if she didn’t want to give herself a chance to change her mind. Which was fine with him. She’d made the first move, and Mac intended to make sure she didn’t regret it. Because with her soft mouth devouring his and her hands now pulling at his shirt and trailing up his chest, he definitely wanted more.
She didn’t give him a chance. Those fingers curled into fists and she shoved backward, separating them before he could act on impulse and take what he wanted. What she’d seemed to offer just seconds before.
Wide eyes, darkened by passion and a hint of insecurity, met his. “I don’t know what I was thinking, grabbing you like that.”
Her uncertainty touched him. “I don’t know what you were thinking, either, but did you hear me complaining?”
A slight smile took hold of her lips. “You mean you liked it?” she asked.
Reaching out, he grasped her forearm, gently pressing his fingers into her flesh. “You mean you couldn’t tell? My technique must be rusty.” He let his thumb run circles over her skin.
He took one step toward her, and when she didn’t back away, he locked them together once again. She tipped her head backward to meet his gaze.
“You can trust me, sweetheart.”
“I know.” Her wide smile reassured him, and he kissed her without holding back. She responded. Her tongue filled his mouth, while her soft sighs and little moans drove him mad. Apparently she’d needed reassurance, and having gotten it, she relaxed in his arms.
Her flimsy shirt already hung off one bare shoulder. Although not blatantly sexy, this soft, frilly thing aroused him beyond belief. Acting on impulse, he grabbed both the tank top strap along with the ruffled edge of the shirt and pulled both down far enough to let him taste one of her darkened nipples. Her moan of delight was unrestrained as she arched her back in wanton response, giving him complete access.
Mac had never embarrassed himself in front of a woman, but he damn near did so now. Another few seconds and he wouldn’t give a damn that a bar full of people waited outside that door. He’d scatter their clothes on the floor and bury himself inside her willing warmth. He needed to stop but wasn’t ready to let her go.
He had no choice. Her admitted hesitancy prevented him from going further. With more difficulty than he would have imagined, he raised his head. “Still think I’m harmless?” he asked, his breathing not at all steady.
“No, but you do taste sweet.” An embarrassed smile played over her lips. “I wasn’t sure how to approach you…but I’m glad I did.”
He’d been right. For all her attempts at seduction, she was very new at this kind of game. Which made him wonder what other secrets she kept. She’d already admitted to being a temporary runaway. And given the inexperience he sensed and the innocence she projected, he had to wonder why the urgency to come on to him at all? Every unanswered question made her all the more fascinating.
He met her gaze. Her violet eyes were still glazed with a combination of passion and disbelief. Mac understood. He’d never have believed they’d make such an explosive combination, either. He hadn’t thought this bundle of contradictions had it in her. He’d sensed her hesitancy and figured she’d bail out. Instead, she’d come to him. To Mac, the bartender.
If his instincts were on, this hot, blazing desire that flared between them was just as new to her as it was to…No. No. He shook his head. Desire wasn’t new to him. He’d wanted before. He’d just never come so close so fast.
He had the unnerving sense that one night with Samantha wouldn’t be enough to douse this high-charged inferno that blazed out of control. Worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted it to be. But until he understood what she was running from and why, he couldn’t take advantage…no matter how badly he wanted to.
With deliberate slowness, he picked her up and lowered her to the ground, making sure their bodies touched the entire time. Making sure she felt the hard ridge of his arousal. Her sharp inhale told him she had.
She’d pulled her still-damp hair into a braid that touched her shoulder. He toyed with the end. “It’s wet.”
“I didn’t want to take time to dry it.”
He played with her hair, running the strands down her cheek and along her neck, then following the path with his tongue. He looked up and met her wide-eyed gaze. “Where are you planning on staying?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “Wherever I’m welcome.”
She was welcome here. The thought shocked him, but he realized he meant it. Keeping her around would give him time to get to know this woman, something he wanted, nearly as much as he desired her.
He bent his head. “The bed upstairs is a double,” he whispered in her ear.
Mac told himself it made sense. She needed a place to stay. He needed to keep her around. As difficult as it would be, he could keep a respectable physical distance between them. She might think she wanted more, but her eyes mirrored her soul, and she was still unsure. Not of the sexual chemistry, because they’d steamed up this stockroom in no time at all, of something deeper. Emotionally, she wasn’t ready for more.
When the stakes were high, and the prize worth winning, Mac had an abundance of patience. “Well?” he asked her.
“I…” He bit on her earlobe and her shudder went straight through him. “I check in next Thursday morning,” she managed to say. “My conference begins at eight on Friday.”
Loud banging on the door interrupted them before things got out of control. “I may be old, but my memory’s fine. It doesn’t take that long,” Zee yelled. “You got thirsty people out here.”
Her face flushed scarlet, and Mac cupped her cheeks in his palms. “He’s wrong.”
“He is?” Her voice was filled with breathless anticipation.
Mac nodded. “It’ll take the whole week. I’ll make sure of it,” he said in a voice he barely recognized.
Then he turned and walked out, leaving her to pull herself together while he hoped nobody else noticed how long he’d been gone. Or that he’d forgotten the beer. Or that he wanted Samantha so badly he could hardly walk. This woman, her honesty and vulnerability, made him believe in a future for the first time in years. Combine that with a sexual chemistry fierce enough to set his soul on fire, and Mac knew exactly why he’d invited her to stay for the duration.
Never before had a bartending favor held so much promise. As Mac got back to work, he wondered if anyone would notice if he skipped last call.
CHAPTER THREE
SAM WIPED DOWN the table and pocketed the tip left beneath the glass. As quickly as she’d taken over Theresa’s job, she’d fallen into a steady rhythm. She wasn’t half bad at cocktail waitressing. The overall pace here was slower than back home, which made for an easier transition. She enjoyed the customers, and they seemed to like talking with her. An easterner provided them with a source of amusement for the evening, and their slight accents intrigued her.
“Hey, honey. Another one in the corner.”
Sam rolled her eyes. She had no idea where Zee got his endless supply of energy. Hers was dwindling fast. She ducked behind the bar in search of Mac’s secret supply of Zee’s liquor.
“You holding up okay?”
Her heart tripped in reaction to the husky voice. Good thing her feet didn’t do the same or she’d lose her night’s take paying for the damage. She turned toward Mac. “I’m fine.”
“You had a rough walk over here.” His gaze lingered on her canvas sneakers. His caring amazed her. The man needed a cocktail waitress or he’d have had to close down earlier, yet he’d sent Theresa home, and now here he was concerned about a few cuts and bruises on her feet—the feet of a woman he’d just met.
He had a soft spot beneath the rougher exterior. Sam liked that about him. Too much, considering.
“Tell the boys this is last call,” he said.
She nearly kissed him in relief, but with a bar full of people, and their last session still fresh in her mind, she pushed the idea aside. As she went to serve her last drinks and clean up the increasingly empty tables, her nerves prickled with the awareness of being watched. The sensation only heightened as the night wore on, until just thinking about Mac sent her senses into heated overload.
Finally, she shut the door behind the last paying customer of the night. Without turning, she heard the sound of the stools being swung on top of the bar. Mac preparing to clean the floors, she assumed. She couldn’t face him. Not with her emotions so fragile after the way she’d attacked him in the storage room earlier.
“And especially not after agreeing to spend the week in his bed,” she muttered aloud.
The bar had been so busy, that except for his intense gaze and the times she needed to request orders, she’d managed to avoid anything personal between them for the rest of the night. Of course if she stayed here, she’d have to look him in the eye sooner or later.
Who was she kidding? If she stayed here, she’d be looking at a lot more than dark eyes framed by incredibly long lashes. She’d be looking at Mac. All of him.
Well, she’d wanted hot. She’d wanted to experience excitement and passion. He’d given her firsthand proof he could provide all three. The memory invited a rhythmic pounding and accompanying dampness between her legs. She refused to walk away now, even though guilt threatened her plans. Her conscience had picked an awful time to kick in.
She might not love Tom, and he might have bribed her into this engagement, but Samantha took commitment seriously. Throwing herself at one man while engaged to another bothered her more than she cared to admit. But not enough to change her mind. And she sensed that decision had more to do with Mac than the need for a one-week fling. She wanted this time with this man.
Tom would never know, and except for his ego, she wondered if he’d even care. Each of them would provide a function in the other’s life. She would be a trophy to hang on his arm, he would give her the cash to bail out her father. She was the only one not personally gaining from the deal.
“Except for the fact that it led me to you,” she murmured. Her gaze darted toward Mac’s broad back. Muscles in his upper arms and neck flexed as he worked. Strong and self-confident as he was, she doubted he’d appreciate knowing that technically she belonged to another man.
She ran her thumb over her temporarily bare ring finger. She didn’t like thinking of herself in terms of ownership, but she knew how men viewed the world. A man like Mac might get picky over little details—like her upcoming wedding. Since she’d never see him again afterward, there was no reason to risk losing this once-in-a-lifetime chance.
“Sammy Jo, come do one more shot before I let Hardy drive me home.” She rolled her eyes. She never should have told Zee he could call her by that ridiculous name.
“Sammy Jo?”
“Samantha Josephine,” Zee said. “You want to get to know a lady, you have to ask the right questions.”
“Sammy Jo.” Mac leaned on the handle of a large mop as he studied her. His heated gaze swept over her body, lingering on places he had no business observing in public. Places he’d seen earlier that evening. She had the definite impression he was remembering much more than what was currently before his eyes. “Sammy Jo,” he said again, this time in a much more seductive, huskier voice. “Now, that works for me.”
Her name on his lips worked for her, too, in any form. Forcing herself to break eye contact, she turned to her drinking buddy. “I’m sorry, Zee, but I’m done for the night.” She couldn’t swallow another glass of water without her bladder exploding. As much as she liked the old guy and enjoyed his company, she’d humored him enough for one evening.
With a forced smile, she looked at Zee and hiccuped. Loud.
Mac chuckled. Zee grinned. “Told you I could drink her under the table. ’Night, all. Catch you tomorrow.” He walked out of the bar, his designated driver hot on his heels.
Mac closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolt shut. Talk about defining moments, Sam thought. From now on, she’d associate the sound of a lock clicking into place with this man and this night.
“Alone at last.” He adjusted the brim of his baseball cap and grinned. Then he crooked a finger in her direction. “Come here…Sammy Jo.”
His dark eyes glittered with unchecked desire. Her heart threatened to explode in her chest, but she walked toward him, transfixed by the heat in his gaze and the way he made her body ache with one searing look.
Three steps, maybe four, and she reached him. Without prelude, he cupped his hands over her cheeks and kissed her. His tongue worked its way into her already-open mouth and sought hers. Sam expected a hard, demanding kiss, much like the ones they’d shared earlier. She could have handled one of those.
But the tender way he kissed her, learning the deep recesses of her mouth and then nibbling on her lower lip until she nearly cried at the unexpected sweetness of the assault—well, that she couldn’t handle at all. When he lifted his head, his gaze caught and held hers.
She couldn’t catch her breath, so she didn’t try. As for the lump in her throat, she swallowed and attempted to talk over it. “What was that for?” she asked.
“You looked uncertain and I wanted to make sure you remembered why.”
She didn’t have to ask “Why what?” Why she’d plastered her body to his earlier. Why she’d agreed to stay with him. Why she shouldn’t change her mind. He had no way of knowing she already knew. He was the answer to all those questions. His incredible masculinity and the chemistry she could generate only with him. She’d come west on a mission of sorts, but even in her wildest, most erotic dreams, she’d never imagined Mac.
He grasped her by the waist and settled her on one of the few stools still standing on the floor. Thanks to her loose, flowing top, his hands cupped bare skin, and the touch made her long for more. Instead his hands went to her feet, and he unlaced and pulled off her sneaker. He massaged her aching arch through her white sock.
She leaned back against the bar and sighed with delight. “Wow, that feels good.”
He groaned. “I could think of lots of things that would feel better, but something tells me you need this more.”
“You know a lot about someone you just met.” She was still thinking about the reassuring kiss, not her sore feet.
“You’re easy to read.”
She forced her heavy eyelids open. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” Because he wasn’t, which made this a very one-sided relationship. Whoa. Not a relationship. A one-night stand or, if things worked out, one week. But not a relationship, which implied long-term commitment. She was already embroiled in one of those.
Sam didn’t like the way her thoughts were going, and she tried to concentrate on her feet instead, which wasn’t difficult, since he’d pulled off her other shoe and settled in to work. His hands massaged and coaxed along her arch and up her calves.
Long, sensual strokes alternated with short, deep thrusts of his fingers into her tender muscles. “You surprised me tonight,” he said.
“You mean you aren’t used to being mauled by women?” Sam held no illusions. He might have taken charge, but she had definitely approached him first.
He laughed. “I was talking about you helping out around here. You pitched in when I needed it most. I appreciate it.”
His hands had moved higher, working their way up her thigh. She tensed, but under his continued ministrations, she began to relax again and enjoy.
“I can pay you Theresa’s salary,” he said.
“You already paid Theresa her salary,” she reminded him.
“Because her family needs the money and Bear won’t mind. You don’t need to work for free. It isn’t much, but…”
Sam could barely concentrate on anything but the feel of his hands on her bare skin and the thought of where they were headed next. But through the tingling sensations and the desire, she got a solid view of Mac. A special, caring man…hers for the duration of her stay, if she wanted him to be. And she did.
In return, he needed to know what she wanted from him, and that didn’t include cash. “I don’t want your money, Mac.”
He muttered something she almost missed. Something that sounded like “That would be a first,” but his agile fingers had reached the hem of her skirt and she knew she couldn’t trust anything she heard except her own rapid breathing.
“Why not?” he asked. “You earned it.”
“I don’t take payment for things I enjoy, and I enjoyed helping you.”
“I’m sure you picked up a lot in tips tonight, anyway,” he said.
“I didn’t do too badly for my first night.” She grinned.
“You’re a hell of a woman, Sammy Jo.” His drawl was deliberate, she knew, as was the way his finger dipped beneath the lace in her panties. At that first intimate touch, she let out a slow moan, accompanied by a tremor her body couldn’t control.
“Is this the way you show your gratitude?” she asked, trying to keep the moment between them light even as his finger moved over the lace, rubbing back and forth with unerring accuracy. It didn’t work. Fire shot straight through her body, making her burn.
