ignited every cell while in Brad’s embrace. But as she looked at the extreme irritation on Drew’s face, reality rushed back. Her boss was furious. Panic slammed the door shut on the remaining good vibes—she couldn’t afford to lose this job. What on earth had she been thinking?
‘Drew, I’m so sorry,’ she said in a breathless rush, stepping further away from Brad. ‘I wasn’t aware of the time. I didn’t—’
‘No kidding,’ Drew interrupted rudely, her scrambled apology having no effect on his temper. ‘This is—’
‘My fault.’ To Mya’s horror, Brad coolly interrupted Drew. ‘I distracted her.’
Drew turned his glower on Brad. But within a second his expression eased a fraction as he got a good look at the man now stepping up in front of him.
Mya watched the two men square off. All of a sudden Brad seemed both taller and broader as he moved to put himself partly between her and Drew. Oh, this wasn’t good—she really didn’t need Brad interfering; she was on the line as it was. She could handle Drew herself without any macho-male stuff.
Brad sent her a quick glance but seemed oblivious to her wordless plea to shut the heck up and back off. Instead he turned back to Drew.
Mya held her breath but then Brad smiled—that big, easy smile, with just a hint of the ‘born-to-it-all’ arrogance. ‘My name’s Brad Davenport.’ He extended his hand as if it were not in the least embarrassing that he’d just been caught kissing the brains out of Drew’s employee when she should have been working. ‘I want to hire out your bar.’
‘Drew.’ Mya’s manager paused a moment and then shook Brad’s hand. ‘This is a popular place. I’m not sure you’ll need the whole bar for one small party.’
‘It’s not going to be a small party. I want the whole bar,’ Brad answered calmly. ‘Obviously we’ll pay to secure absolute privacy for the night.’
Mya watched the change come over Drew as he assessed Brad’s worth. It didn’t take much to know the clothes were designer, the watch gold, the self-assurance in-built …
‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.’ Drew’s demeanour changed to sycophantic in a heartbeat.
‘I’m sure we can.’ Brad smiled his killer smile once again. ‘It should be good. This place has an atmosphere I like.’
Mya watched the Davenport charm in action as he arranged a meeting time with Drew. He got everything his own way so easily. Utterly used to doors swinging open—and women’s legs parting on sight of that smile too. And while she was totally relieved he’d just saved her neck from the block, she was also irritated with the ease with which he’d done it. The man had everything. Money, looks, brains, charm. Had he ever known what it was to have to fight for something? To really have to work for something? Mya knew what it was to work, hard.
‘You have two minutes,’ Drew said to Mya, as if he were an emperor granting a favour to a lowly serf. ‘Then back behind that bar.’
‘Of course.’ Mya nodded as he disappeared into the crowd. Then she turned back to Brad. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to follow through on that meeting.’
‘I’m looking forward to it.’ Brad didn’t look at all bothered. ‘I think a night here could be fun.’
Mya chose to ignore the hint of entendre in his expression. ‘Have you got a reason to party?’
‘Who needs a reason?’ Brad shrugged.
‘Because life’s just one big party?’
He merely chuckled and then stepped closer. ‘I’m sorry we were interrupted. Things were getting interesting there.’
But that close call had firmly grounded Mya. ‘Things were getting out of hand,’ she corrected, opting not to look any higher than his collar. ‘I’m sorry about that. You took me by surprise.’
‘Wow,’ Brad said after a pause. ‘I’m intrigued to think what it’ll be like when I give you fair warning.’
Mya shook her head and stepped away. ‘You’re not getting another chance.’
She felt his hand on her elbow turning her back towards him. His hand slipped down her arm to take her fingers in his.
The touch made her look up before she thought better of it. His surprisingly intense expression incinerated her but she hauled herself from the ashes of easiness. Mya liked sex, but she preferred it within the context of some kind of relationship, not the one-night-stand scene Brad was champion of. And she was steering well clear of any kind of entanglement for the foreseeable future. Long-term future. She had too much else to do—like work, study and occasionally eat and sleep.
Also, this man had always had everything too easy. She’d just seen him in action—twice already tonight. He wasn’t having her that way again. She truly had just been caught by surprise, and her response to him was simply a reflection of his expertise and her lack of any physical release in the last while, right?
The swirling frustration and embarrassment inside her coalesced and came out as temper. ‘You thought that picture was a booty call, didn’t you?’ She called him out with sarcasm-coated words. ‘From a woman that you haven’t spoken to in at least five years?’
‘Have we ever spoken?’ He laughed off her accusation. ‘I thought you and Lauren just paraded around fake-Goth-style and giggled behind closed doors. Interesting to think what was really going on behind those doors given the pictures you send each other. Thinking about it, you two went to prom together, didn’t you?’
‘With her boyfriend,’ Mya answered.
‘Oh, a threesome.’ Brad laughed harder.
‘If you remember, she tried to get you to take me.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ His eyes widened as he thought about it. ‘That’s right.’
Unlike him, Mya had never forgotten what for her had been the most mortifying moment of that night. He’d been home from university. He’d had some silvery-blonde girlfriend with him. Tall and sleek, she’d had the obligatory blue eyes and the label clothes and the ‘born to it all’ attitude. Mya had hated her on sight. The girlfriend had spent most of the time spread on a sofa being kissed to glory by Brad.
‘You were wearing one of Lauren’s dresses,’ he said slowly.
‘Yes.’ She was amazed he’d now remembered that detail. Mya had butchered one of Lauren’s many formal dresses. A soft, pretty pink dress—never a colour she’d normally wear. She’d taken to it with a pair of scissors and completely cut away the back and secured it with long, trailing ribbons. She’d been aiming for a soft romantic look.
It was the dress that she’d hoped might garner her the attention she’d thought she’d wanted. All she’d wanted to do was fit in—to be popular and accepted. To be just like the rest of them and not different for once. She’d wanted it to all be easy. But it was never as easy as a change of clothes. Make-overs didn’t change the person underneath. She hadn’t just been sixteen and never been kissed. She’d made it all the way to eighteen and first-year uni before that honour had fallen to a fellow
