to the debating team or the hockey team or the school choir.
She ran a sharp eye over his suit. ‘You don’t look the dangerous type.’
‘Appearances can be deceiving.’ A little piqued, he decided to hit where he knew it would hurt. ‘You don’t even know how much I’m going to pay you.’
This time her glance stabbed. ‘I know the going rate.’
He realised then that he didn’t. Wouldn’t have a clue. He didn’t know a lot about this business—other than the price of a decent glass of wine. If he wasn’t careful this woman would have him over a barrel. She might not want to stick at any job for long, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t sharp.
‘So what is your name?’ She was staring down the street.
‘Daniel Graydon.’
Outside the club he pulled the keys from his pocket, jangling them in his hand for a moment. Was he really going to hand these over to a woman he’d known precisely twenty-seven minutes? Heart sinking, he realised Lara had left him in one hell of a mess. He had far too great a sense of obligation and responsibility and she knew it. She knew he would never let her club sink. He was going to have to stick around to make sure this was going to be OK. He was going to have to keep a close eye on his new employee.
Damn.
She climbed the stairs ahead of him. He kept that close eye on the way her curves filled out the denim jeans, on the way her hips swayed as she smoothly mounted each step.
Double damn.
Had he, for the first time in his life, just made a decision using his body rather than his brain? His brain was telling him to let her go and get on with it, but his body was telling him to grab hold and see what magic she could do. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and stroke her.
She walked into the middle of the floor space, the heels of her boots clicking on the wooden floor. He went to the bar and flipped the lights. Wanting rid of the late-night, fun feel. Back to business. She paid him no attention. Instead she took in the fridge behind him, noting the lack of stock.
‘When did you want this open again?’
‘I was hoping for Friday.’
He saw her swallow as she looked around some more. ‘We have a lot to do by then.’
He turned the screws a little. ‘No. You have a lot to do. I have work of my own to be getting on with.’
She turned to him. ‘Accountancy or law?’
He wondered which she viewed as the lesser evil. From the way she’d covered the question in sarcastic flavouring he guessed she regarded both as less than marvellous options. ‘Law.’
‘Hotshot, huh?’
Modesty stopped him from answering that one honestly. ‘Hard-working.’
She nodded. More to herself than him. As if he’d confirmed her worst suspicions.
She focused on the room again. ‘Where are the current staff?’
‘I’m really not sure. There’s a list in the office at the back of the bar. I rang them to let them know it was closing for a couple of days and that the new manager would be in touch.’
‘I’ll get onto that right away.’ She picked up a stained coaster from the nearest table. ‘It could do with a little freshening.’
‘Freshen away. Just don’t do anything drastic.’
She raised her brow at him and he didn’t like the cunning in her smile.
He glanced at his watch. He needed to get back to the office before Sarah thought he’d run out for ever. But he didn’t want to leave this woman alone in the club. Not yet. He needed to get to know her a little. He was used to reading people. It was part of his job. Not only did he have to understand the law and be able to apply it, but he had to understand people as well—under-stand the motivations, desires and reasons behind drastic action. But he’d yet to get a handle on her. She seemed a contradiction. Edgy on top, eager underneath. ‘I have to get back to the office to grab some files.’
‘Files?’
‘I thought I’d catch up on work here while you start to get things sorted. Be here to answer any questions you may have.’
‘I thought you didn’t know anything about running a club.’
‘I’m a good guesser.’
Lucy stood firm and stared down her new employer—again. He didn’t trust her.
‘Sure.’ She smiled. ‘Go get them. I’ll chase up the bar staff.’
He hesitated.
She gave him a withering glance. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to hock off all the furnishings in the half-hour you’ll be gone.’
The thing was, he seemed to think she actually might do just that. She couldn’t for the life of her think why he’d just employed her. Not when it was so obvious he thought she was a flake. It must have been a spontaneous decision and one he was already regretting. She could see it a mile off. He didn’t even want to leave her in the club on her own for five minutes for fear she’d what—run off with the remainder of the stock?
She felt annoyed. Really annoyed.
OK, so she’d never held a job for more than three months. That wasn’t because she wasn’t a good worker. It had always, always been her decision to leave. Usually because she was bored. Because there was somewhere else she thought she wanted to be. And, OK, she mouthed off a bit. Sometimes. Most of the time. Like always. That way she could keep people at bay. Keep their expectations low. Keep herself protected.
She eyeballed him. Damn his judgments. He could stand there in his immaculate suit with his immaculate face that she was not noticing; he could stand there and just watch her.
He didn’t think she could do this. Well, screw him. And that, she conceded, was the problem. She wanted to. Lust like you wouldn’t believe. She wanted to strip him, lay him bare and watch the frozen look go up in flames. Utter foolishness. Lucy had learned long ago to at least try to put the brakes on foolish notions.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. ‘Call me if there’s any problem. I’ll lock the door behind me on the way out.’
She reached out, the casualness of her gesture totally undermined by the intensity of their sparring stares. Again, she had to look away first. It was like staring into the eyes of a lion—and she couldn’t help feeling he was capable of the kill. She watched him leave. Listened to his sure steps heading down. Waited for the sound of the door closing firmly behind him. Then she expelled the breath she’d been holding onto for what felt like hours.
This was huge. Huge. How on earth was she going to pull it off?
She needed help. She flipped out her mobile, wincing at the single bar left on the battery indicator. Knowing she’d already IOU-ed the pre-pay provider and had about thirty seconds’ worth of time left. She pressed
