against his chest to keep from crumpling when her feet slammed against solid ground.
“I didn’t ask you to clean the damn windows,” he snarled.
His mouth was set in a thin tight line, his eyes dark and threatening. For the life of her, Leighanna couldn’t imagine what she’d done to anger him so.
“No, you didn’t,” she said nervously. “But you weren’t here and I’d already done everything else and the windows needed cleaning, so I cleaned them.”
His jaw tightened and a muscle twitched beneath his eye. When his fingers continued to cut into her waist, she decided she’d had enough of his rotten attitude. “If you don’t mind,” she said, and gave his chest a shove. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me go.”
His fingers cut a little deeper and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “And what if I do mind?” he asked.
Leighanna’s eyes Hipped wide. Hank saw the fear in them, and it shamed him to think he had put it there. He’d never frightened a woman before, had never used force on one, either, for that matter, had never needed to. But there was something about this woman that seemed to bring out the worst in him.
“It doesn’t matter if you mind or not,” she cried indignantly, “because I do!” She pushed a little more insistently. “Now let me go, I’ve got work to do before customers start arriving.”
But Hank wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. He hadn’t expected her to show up for work again, not after what he’d put her through the night before. Then to find her there, swaying like a suction cup, dashboard ornament on that damn rickety stool, washing windows...well, it had just about given him a heart attack. All he could think about was that fragile body of hers lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, those delicate bones shattered beyond repair, and not a soul within a three-mile radius of the bar to hear her calls for help.
Knowing that she was safe didn’t loosen his hold on her, though, for now with her close like this, with her womanly scent teasing his senses and the feel of her soft flesh curving beneath his palms, the fear slowly subsided, leaving in its place nothing but a keen awareness.
“There’s time, yet,” he murmured, and enjoyed watching the indignant thrust of her chin. He forced himself to soften his hold on her until his hands merely rested in the curve of her waist. He dipped his face a hair lower, just close enough to warm her lips with his breath. “You’ve got dirt on your cheek,” he said, his voice husky.
Leighanna immediately lifted a fist to her cheek and scrubbed. “Where?”
He caught her hand and forced it back to his chest. “Right here.” He lifted a finger to her cheek and whisked softly, his face drifting closer, then closer still, until it was his lips that brushed her cheek instead of his fingers. His mouth opened and his tongue arced out, sweeping like wet velvet across her cheek.
Leighanna sucked in a sharp breath, fisting her hands in the fabric of his shirt as her knees turned the consistency of wet noodles. Now she understood why Harley had said most women would kill to have Hank pay attention to them. The man was a master at seduction.
She could feel herself weakening, falling deeper and deeper under his spell as his tongue and lips teased. “Please,” she begged, her voice little more than a whimper.
“Please, what?” he murmured huskily.
But before she could ask him to stop, his mouth slipped to cover hers. Leighanna almost wept at the feel of those lips on hers. Strong and commanding, they moved against hers in a most satisfying way, while his thumbs stroked persuasively at her lower ribs.
She knew she was weak, spineless, susceptible when confronted with a man’s seductive charm. Her years with Roger had certainly proven that.
How many times had Roger come to her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and cuddling up to her while he tried to wheedle money out of her? She’d always been a sucker for affection. Raised by a father who didn’t have a clue about the needs of a young girl, she’d never received any. Roger had known her weakness, knew just the right buttons to push to get what he wanted from her.
The thought of Roger’s manipulations dragged her from beneath Hank’s spell. She set her jaw and firmed her lips beneath his. He might not want money from her as Roger had, but he wanted something. That was obvious in the seductive prodding of his tongue against her lips...and she wouldn’t, no matter how strong the temptation to remain in his arms, allow herself to fall prey to a man’s charm again.
Lifting her foot, she brought it down hard across his instep. He released her with a yelp of pain and hopped around on one foot while he cradled in his hands the one she’d stomped.
“Why in the hell’d you do that for?” he asked incredulously. “You could’ve broken my damn foot!”
Leighanna folded her arms beneath her breasts. “You’re lucky I didn’t aim a little higher.”
Hank’s eyes widened in surprise while his grip on his foot loosened. “Why, you little hellcat,” he murmured.
He couldn’t have called her anything that would have pleased her more. Leighanna Farrow would never again be any man’s doormat! She snatched up the bucket. “If you’re smart, you’ll remember that before you try to make another pass at me.” She jerked open the door. “Get the stool,” she ordered firmly, pointing a stiff finger at the stool beneath the window. “We’ve got work to do.”
Hank’s chest swelled in anger. “I think you’re forgetting who’s the boss around here.”
Leighanna refused to bend under his threatening look. She’d done enough bending in her life. “No, I haven’t forgotten, but it appears one of us needs to keep an eye on the business. You obviously don’t care.” With that she stepped through the door with a deliberate toss of her blond hair and let the door slam closed behind her.
Didn’t care about his business! Hank snatched up the stool and jerked open the door, following her into the bar. “And just exactly what is that supposed to mean?” he asked, slamming the stool down on four legs as he stomped after her toward the kitchen.
Leighanna calmly tipped over the bucket and emptied its contents down the drain. “Exactly what I said. You don’t care about your business.”
“That’s a damn lie!”
She set the bucket on the floor by the sink and brushed past him on her way to the bar. “It isn’t. If you did, you’d take better care of the place.”
Hank followed her. “I take care of my business!”
She wheeled, and he fell back a step to keep from slamming into her. “Do you?” she asked, arching a neatly shaped brow.
“Well, hell, yes!”
“Then why are you letting this place fall down around you?”
Hank looked at her in dismay. “It’s not falling down!”
“Sure it is.” She stepped to the wall and tapped a manicured nail at a spot of chipped plaster. “This for instance. How long has this been this way?”
Hank frowned. “The walls look the same as when I bought the place.”
“And
