he was gone.
As she worked from one end of the bar to the other, sorting problems, getting Corey to clear tables, ensuring everyone got their ten minutes’ break time, she fought harder and harder not to think about him. And failed completely. Why had he cleared off so quickly? Surely she’d seen the spark of desire in his face—in the pool this morning, in the café, in the bar tonight when he’d first caught her eye. She hadn’t dreamt it. But then he’d been Mr Grumpa-rama. He preferred ‘more intimate’? What did that mean?
Near-naked pictures from the pool raced through her mind again and she slammed the brakes on pronto. Did he feel the zing between them? Did he secretly love their sarcastic sparring too? God, he was hard to read. He just matched her for smart answer time and time again but really gave very little away. She wished she hadn’t seen him in little more than a towel. Who would have thought that such a body could lie under that straight white shirt and tie? He wore a suit well—very well.
He wore nothing better.
She shook her head and concentrated on serving up the last few drinks, instructing the DJ to switch to mellow tunes that would send out the home-to-bed vibe. After the last of the customers cleared, she and the others did a quick tidy. The rest would be done by the cleaner in the morning. Lucy turned the music down and printed out data from the computer.
Sinead paused on her way out. ‘You sure you’re OK being left alone in here?’
‘So long as you lock the door on your way out I’m fine.’ Lucy winked. ‘And I know a few moves, remember?’
She listened to Sinead clomp down the stairs and heard the satisfying click of the door below. Then she slumped in a chair in relief. She’d done it and done it well. And it had been such fun—until Daniel had come and gone again. Her happy mood slipped.
Mad with herself for being so down over him, she went to her bag and rummaged through her CD file. Finding the one she was after, she loaded it into the machine and turned it up loud. The early hours of the morning were still hot and she opened a couple of the windows wider, lit an oil burner and put it on one of the centre tables to help get rid of the smell of booze and the perfumes of a hundred bodies. Then she danced—with the freedom she always had when the music was up loud and she was alone.
Daniel gently shook his half-full glass as he sat on his deck in the warm breeze and looked at the city lights reflected on the water. He wasn’t sleepy. Not even a little bit. The club would be closed now. She’d have gone home for the night. He realised he didn’t even know where her home was. Her CV only had her mobile phone number as her contact. He toyed with the idea of texting her—to make sure the place was locked up tight.
His phone buzzed—was it thought transference? He answered, body seizing as a female voice said hello. Then his brain clicked on.
‘Hi, Lara.’ Oh.
‘Is everything at the club OK?’
‘Yeah, it’s fine.’
‘You get someone good?’
‘Yeah.’ Try stunning. Try teasing. Try truly aggravating.
‘Many there?’
‘A few.’ Honestly he couldn’t really say. His eyes had been on her from the moment he’d walked in. She hadn’t noticed him. He’d had the ‘pleasure’ of watching her flirt with buff guy before he’d made his way to her end of the bar. She’d been right about the attitude and the look—although she hadn’t been head-to-foot black, her top a slash of scarlet. Trust Lucy to break her own uniform rule. He remembered Lara waiting on the end of the call. ‘Quite a few actually. Lots.’
‘Are you OK? You sound distanced.’
‘Must be the line.’ They made an impressive line-up of bar staff—buff guy, the petite brunette and the tall, tanned curvy one with the brilliant smile. She’d smiled her way through serving her customers and they’d all smiled back. Every one. Even the women. So how come he got it so infrequently? It was as if she’d taken one look at him, decided he was an arrogant jerk and been point-scoring ever since.
‘I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’ Lara didn’t sound remotely sorry.
‘That’s OK. I can handle it until you do.’ But could he handle his lust for Lucy? Little Miss Smart Mouth—openly antagonistic because she thought he was some stuffed shirt. But her eyes had gone smoky at moments when they’d been physically close—there were sparks there. He wanted to blow on them, and then stamp them out.
‘Thanks, Daniel. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
‘No problem.’
He pressed the end button and set his glass down with a snap. If he was going to be awake at this time he might as well be working on his case notes. He glanced at the box on the floor by his feet. No chance. Instead he stood. A walk would help. Clear the mind and make him tired so he’d sleep. He’d walk through town, past the club, make sure it was all shut up and secure.
There were a few stragglers still on the road but it was largely quiet, peaceful and warm. Despite the couple of mouthfuls of whiskey he’d had he was stone-cold sober. As he neared the club he started to walk that little bit faster—he could hear music. Worse than that, he could hear country music. Well past closing. He got to the door—it was locked and the stairwell light was off. He walked into the middle of the road so he could see up to the windows and into them a little—they were wide open and there was a light on inside. What the hell was going on? Was she staging some sort of lock-in? The music was appalling. Had she turned the place into a line-dancing school? Either way it was being shut down now.
He shouldn’t have hired her. Never should have done it. He’d been bamboozled by a beautiful body and eyes that begged for him to believe in her.
Idiot.
He pulled the keys out of his pocket and inserted them in the lock. She was about to be sacked.
It is essential for you to try things with your own hands
LUCY was whirling round the floor, arms outstretched, when she heard it. Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Inside. Coming up. Fast. She stopped still. Brain spinning. She dashed for the bar and got behind it. Then cursed herself for her stupidity. If he was after cash he’d come straight for the till. She thought about her mobile phone—in her bag in the back room. Useless. Fear slashed through her but she refused to freeze. She had to fight.
Her mind flickered, eyes hunting for a weapon. Glasses, bottles—weapons which would be used against her. Then she saw it—the postmix—the drink dispenser. She could squirt soda at the intruder and dash for the fire alarm with the seconds that bought her. She lifted the nozzle from its rung and stood square on to the door just as it opened and she saw the manly figure outlined—tall, broad, familiar. Body achingly familiar.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ they shouted simultaneously.
Lucy swore as he advanced and she saw it truly was him. Her heart didn’t know whether to speed up, slow or stop altogether.
‘You gave
