the target. Which made his occasional stint as Bear’s substitute the perfect escape.
“Another round, Mac,” Zee called.
He threw a glance their way. “You aren’t halfway through the first.” The old men liked their whiskey the way they liked their women. At a distance.
He watched as Zee pushed aside the red-and-white checked curtain to look out the window. The decor could use some updating, Mac thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if Bear finally got his lady after all. At least one of the two neighborhood boys would settle down.
“Looks like we got us a live one.” Zee clapped his hands with glee. “Coming up the stairs now.”
Mac knew Zee well enough to see past the jokes. The old man had been a father figure to the Mackenzie kids, Mac and his sister, since their own dad had died almost twelve years before. So Mac understood the loneliness that prompted Zee to act a little crazy in his search of fun, and the intelligence and humor that lay behind his penetrating gaze.
But that didn’t mean he’d let him harass an unsuspecting customer. “Leave ’em alone, boys.”
“You’re no fun, Mackenzie,” they spoke in chorus, just as the door opened wide and the sorriest sight Mac had ever seen stumbled through.
She was a lady…beneath the layers of desert grime. Black hair tumbled over her shoulders in wild disarray. Her shoes, heels from the looks of them, dangled from her fingertips as she limped inside the bar on long, shapely legs and bare feet.
A quick glance and years of experience told him her skirt was designer, silk and displayed an enticing amount of bare skin. She looked lost and alone in the door frame, with Bear’s prize possession, a life-size moose head hanging above her own.
Before he could see any more, the three old men had surrounded her. Mac looked at the ceiling and rolled his eyes, then made his way around the bar. “For God’s sake, give the lady some air,” he shouted.
The men scattered. And Mac got a firsthand look at the white tank top clinging to her round breasts with exact precision. Thanks to the cold night air, her nipples puckered against the otherwise loose fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. He had the insane desire to cup his hands over her breasts and warm the lady himself.
He’d gone too damn long without sex if this bedraggled female turned him on. She stared from him to the group in the corner.
“They don’t mean any harm.” He gestured to the three men ogling her without shame. He knew how they felt.
“Thanks just the same,” she said in a husky voice that he’d like to think was sexy by design, but since she’d obviously taken a long hike in the dry desert, she’d probably swallowed more than her share of dust. “My car broke down,” she explained.
“Have a seat and I’ll get you something cold to drink,” he said. “For your throat. Then you can pour your heart out to a friendly bartender.” After which maybe he could find a sweatshirt behind the bar to warm her up and cover her considerable charms. Before he acted on impulse rather than common sense.
She lifted her gaze to his and obviously caught him staring at her chest. A pink flush rose to her cheeks, and she not-so-discreetly crossed her arms in front of her, blocking his view. Her awkward smile disarmed him at the same time he noticed her eyes. The impact sent a jolt of awareness sizzling through him. He’d never seen such an arresting color before, a unique combination of violet and indigo framed by dark lashes and pale skin. Skin marred only by streaks of mascara and what had to be dried tears.
He found himself touched by the sight because this woman was real. Dirty, disheveled and so unlike the women who came to his resort to “rejuvenate” on a regular basis. In his world, a place far removed from the down-to-earth town of his youth, women viewed cosmetic and surgical artifice as the means to keeping their men. Natural beauty like this was too rare.
For once, he looked out and saw someone in need of more than a loaded wallet. “I’ve got pretty broad shoulders,” he said when she remained silent.
“I can see that.” Without warning, a smile caught the corners of her mouth and a sparkle settled in those eyes, which now openly appraised him from the top of his black baseball cap to the toes of his running shoes.
Since Bear never required a dress code for employees or patrons of his small establishment, Mac always dressed comfortably. Very comfortably. Mac knew he looked grungy and liked it. Apparently, so did she. He liked that even more.
“I’ve been walking for a while, and that seat you mentioned does sound awfully good.” She did a poor job of fluttering her lashes over makeup-smeared eyes. Damned if he wasn’t intrigued…and more than a little turned on. She took a step forward, yelped in what he assumed was pain and collapsed, sagging against him for support.
“I’ve had women throw themselves at me before, but never like this.”
“Maybe because they haven’t hiked over a mile in the desert on bare feet,” she retorted.
Mac muttered a curse and swung her into his arms.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She sounded outraged at his chivalry.
“Helping you out, unless you’d like to attempt that step again…” He lowered his hands as if to lower her back down onto the floor.
Soft hands curled around his neck, holding on with an iron grip. She was stronger than she looked.
“Ready to admit you need help?”
She nodded, then settled her body into his, so he felt the soft curve of her breast pressing into his chest and her firm behind nestling against his stomach. If he squirmed, he’d drop her, but ignoring the lingering sensations was damn near impossible.
She tipped her head back and sighed. “My hero.”
“Oh, brother.” Her hair brushed against his cheek. The scent of peaches clung to her skin despite her trek through the desert. His effort to block out the surge of sexual awareness that shot through him failed dismally.
Mac deposited her in the nearest chair, then lifted her foot for inspection. He ran a finger along the cut and bruised arch. Her startled gaze met his.
“I have antiseptic and gauze upstairs,” he said in a husky voice. Or at least, he knew Bear did. His friend had broken up many late-night brawls, and Mac had often hung around to help clean the place, and his pal, up afterward.
“Upstairs?” she squeaked. Then she quickly cleared her throat and started over. “Upstairs where? A room? An apartment? What?” Her curiosity seemed to overtake her initial doubts and she peppered him with questions, growing more confident with each.
“An apartment,” he said, amused.
“With a shower?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Shower and tub, why?”
“Curiosity. And you live there?” she asked, now wide-eyed.
“Yeah.” For the week, or as long as it took Bear to win his lady back. For reasons he didn’t want to inspect too closely, Mac decided against telling her that he was only helping out. It had been a long
