Читать книгу Brazen - Carly Phillips - Страница 8

SAM WIPED DOWN the table and pocketed the tip left beneath the glass. As quickly as she’d taken over Theresa’s job, she’d fallen into a steady rhythm. She wasn’t half bad at cocktail waitressing. The overall pace here was slower than back home, which made for an easier transition. She enjoyed the customers, and they seemed to like talking with her. An easterner provided them with a source of amusement for the evening, and their slight accents intrigued her.

“Hey, honey. Another one in the corner.”

Sam rolled her eyes. She had no idea where Zee got his endless supply of energy. Hers was dwindling fast. She ducked behind the bar in search of Mac’s secret supply of Zee’s liquor.

“You holding up okay?”

Her heart tripped in reaction to the husky voice. Good thing her feet didn’t do the same or she’d lose her night’s take paying for the damage. She turned toward Mac. “I’m fine.”

“You had a rough walk over here.” His gaze lingered on her canvas sneakers. His caring amazed her. The man needed a cocktail waitress or he’d have had to close down earlier, yet he’d sent Theresa home, and now here he was concerned about a few cuts and bruises on her feet—the feet of a woman he’d just met.

He had a soft spot beneath the rougher exterior. Sam liked that about him. Too much, considering.

“Tell the boys this is last call,” he said.

She nearly kissed him in relief, but with a bar full of people, and their last session still fresh in her mind, she pushed the idea aside. As she went to serve her last drinks and clean up the increasingly empty tables, her nerves prickled with the awareness of being watched. The sensation only heightened as the night wore on, until just thinking about Mac sent her senses into heated overload.

Finally, she shut the door behind the last paying customer of the night. Without turning, she heard the sound of the stools being swung on top of the bar. Mac preparing to clean the floors, she assumed. She couldn’t face him. Not with her emotions so fragile after the way she’d attacked him in the storage room earlier.

“And especially not after agreeing to spend the week in his bed,” she muttered aloud.

The bar had been so busy, that except for his intense gaze and the times she needed to request orders, she’d managed to avoid anything personal between them for the rest of the night. Of course if she stayed here, she’d have to look him in the eye sooner or later.

Who was she kidding? If she stayed here, she’d be looking at a lot more than dark eyes framed by incredibly long lashes. She’d be looking at Mac. All of him.

Well, she’d wanted hot. She’d wanted to experience excitement and passion. He’d given her firsthand proof he could provide all three. The memory invited a rhythmic pounding and accompanying dampness between her legs. She refused to walk away now, even though guilt threatened her plans. Her conscience had picked an awful time to kick in.

She might not love Tom, and he might have bribed her into this engagement, but Samantha took commitment seriously. Throwing herself at one man while engaged to another bothered her more than she cared to admit. But not enough to change her mind. And she sensed that decision had more to do with Mac than the need for a one-week fling. She wanted this time with this man.

Tom would never know, and except for his ego, she wondered if he’d even care. Each of them would provide a function in the other’s life. She would be a trophy to hang on his arm, he would give her the cash to bail out her father. She was the only one not personally gaining from the deal.

“Except for the fact that it led me to you,” she murmured. Her gaze darted toward Mac’s broad back. Muscles in his upper arms and neck flexed as he worked. Strong and self-confident as he was, she doubted he’d appreciate knowing that technically she belonged to another man.

She ran her thumb over her temporarily bare ring finger. She didn’t like thinking of herself in terms of ownership, but she knew how men viewed the world. A man like Mac might get picky over little details—like her upcoming wedding. Since she’d never see him again afterward, there was no reason to risk losing this once-in-a-lifetime chance.

“Sammy Jo, come do one more shot before I let Hardy drive me home.” She rolled her eyes. She never should have told Zee he could call her by that ridiculous name.

“Sammy Jo?”

“Samantha Josephine,” Zee said. “You want to get to know a lady, you have to ask the right questions.”

“Sammy Jo.” Mac leaned on the handle of a large mop as he studied her. His heated gaze swept over her body, lingering on places he had no business observing in public. Places he’d seen earlier that evening. She had the definite impression he was remembering much more than what was currently before his eyes. “Sammy Jo,” he said again, this time in a much more seductive, huskier voice. “Now, that works for me.”

Her name on his lips worked for her, too, in any form. Forcing herself to break eye contact, she turned to her drinking buddy. “I’m sorry, Zee, but I’m done for the night.” She couldn’t swallow another glass of water without her bladder exploding. As much as she liked the old guy and enjoyed his company, she’d humored him enough for one evening.

With a forced smile, she looked at Zee and hiccuped. Loud.

Mac chuckled. Zee grinned. “Told you I could drink her under the table. ’Night, all. Catch you tomorrow.” He walked out of the bar, his designated driver hot on his heels.

Mac closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolt shut. Talk about defining moments, Sam thought. From now on, she’d associate the sound of a lock clicking into place with this man and this night.

“Alone at last.” He adjusted the brim of his baseball cap and grinned. Then he crooked a finger in her direction. “Come here…Sammy Jo.”

His dark eyes glittered with unchecked desire. Her heart threatened to explode in her chest, but she walked toward him, transfixed by the heat in his gaze and the way he made her body ache with one searing look.

Three steps, maybe four, and she reached him. Without prelude, he cupped his hands over her cheeks and kissed her. His tongue worked its way into her already-open mouth and sought hers. Sam expected a hard, demanding kiss, much like the ones they’d shared earlier. She could have handled one of those.

But the tender way he kissed her, learning the deep recesses of her mouth and then nibbling on her lower lip until she nearly cried at the unexpected sweetness of the assault—well, that she couldn’t handle at all. When he lifted his head, his gaze caught and held hers.

She couldn’t catch her breath, so she didn’t try. As for the lump in her throat, she swallowed and attempted to talk over it. “What was that for?” she asked.

“You looked uncertain and I wanted to make sure you remembered why.”

She didn’t have to ask “Why what?” Why she’d plastered her body to his earlier. Why she’d agreed to stay with him. Why she shouldn’t change her mind. He had no way of knowing she already knew. He was the answer to all those questions. His incredible masculinity and the chemistry she could generate only with him. She’d come west on a mission of sorts, but even in her wildest, most erotic dreams, she’d never imagined Mac.

He grasped her by the waist and settled her on one of the few stools still standing on the floor. Thanks to her loose, flowing top, his hands cupped bare skin, and the touch made her long for more. Instead his hands went to her feet, and he unlaced and pulled off her sneaker. He massaged her aching arch through her white sock.

She leaned back against the bar and sighed with delight. “Wow, that feels good.”

He groaned. “I could think of lots of things that would feel better, but something tells me you need this more.”

“You know a lot about someone you just met.” She was still thinking about the reassuring kiss, not her sore feet.

“You’re easy to read.”

She forced her heavy eyelids open. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” Because he wasn’t, which made this a very one-sided relationship. Whoa. Not a relationship. A one-night stand or, if things worked out, one week. But not a relationship, which implied long-term commitment. She was already embroiled in one of those.

Sam didn’t like the way her thoughts were going, and she tried to concentrate on her feet instead, which wasn’t difficult, since he’d pulled off her other shoe and settled in to work. His hands massaged and coaxed along her arch and up her calves.

Long, sensual strokes alternated with short, deep thrusts of his fingers into her tender muscles. “You surprised me tonight,” he said.

“You mean you aren’t used to being mauled by women?” Sam held no illusions. He might have taken charge, but she had definitely approached him first.

He laughed. “I was talking about you helping out around here. You pitched in when I needed it most. I appreciate it.”

His hands had moved higher, working their way up her thigh. She tensed, but under his continued ministrations, she began to relax again and enjoy.

“I can pay you Theresa’s salary,” he said.

“You already paid Theresa her salary,” she reminded him.

“Because her family needs the money and Bear won’t mind. You don’t need to work for free. It isn’t much, but…”

Sam could barely concentrate on anything but the feel of his hands on her bare skin and the thought of where they were headed next. But through the tingling sensations and the desire, she got a solid view of Mac. A special, caring man…hers for the duration of her stay, if she wanted him to be. And she did.

In return, he needed to know what she wanted from him, and that didn’t include cash. “I don’t want your money, Mac.”

He muttered something she almost missed. Something that sounded like “That would be a first,” but his agile fingers had reached the hem of her skirt and she knew she couldn’t trust anything she heard except her own rapid breathing.

“Why not?” he asked. “You earned it.”

“I don’t take payment for things I enjoy, and I enjoyed helping you.”

“I’m sure you picked up a lot in tips tonight, anyway,” he said.

“I didn’t do too badly for my first night.” She grinned.

“You’re a hell of a woman, Sammy Jo.” His drawl was deliberate, she knew, as was the way his finger dipped beneath the lace in her panties. At that first intimate touch, she let out a slow moan, accompanied by a tremor her body couldn’t control.

“Is this the way you show your gratitude?” she asked, trying to keep the moment between them light even as his finger moved over the lace, rubbing back and forth with unerring accuracy. It didn’t work. Fire shot straight through her body, making her burn.

“No, sweetheart. I’m doing this because it turns you on and I enjoy that.” To her disappointment, though, he slipped his fingers out from beneath her skirt. His hand shook as he placed it on her thigh. That telling gesture made his withdrawal easier to take. She wasn’t alone in this swirling, all-encompassing state of desire.

“But I want you wide awake and participating, not exhausted from working behind the bar.” He placed a gentle kiss on her lips before bending to retrieve her shoes.

“Go on up and I’ll meet you after I’ve cleaned up.”

Sam blinked, her mind unable to comprehend his words because her body was strung so tight she thought she might explode. She could attempt to seduce him, but she didn’t want their first time to be in the bar.

Despite her inexperienced technique, she’d made it this far. She was more than content to let him take the lead. As she offered a wave and headed for the stairs, she realized Mac was right. She was exhausted. From the look of things down here, he might be a while and she could put the time to good use. After she relaxed, she would set exactly the right mood.

MAC HIT THE TOP STEP at a run. When was the last time he had a woman he’d invited warming his bed? Okay, not his bed, but he’d make do. Because not only did he like what he saw, but he liked what he’d learned about her, too. She wasn’t selfish and greedy, but considerate and giving beyond belief. Not only to Mac when he needed a hand, but to Zee and the other regular customers, who made it a point to mention how much they liked his new waitress. She fit in, which surprised him, considering he’d bet his last dollar she’d never waited tables in her life.

They generated such instant and spontaneous combustion, it was hard to believe he’d only known Samantha for a couple of hours. When he opened the door, he walked into a candlelit room. He had to give her credit for ingenuity. She must have snuck back downstairs while he was cleaning and swiped the red candle holders from the tables. Thick white candles flickered in the darkness, casting a muted glow, creating a sexy atmosphere.

Mac’s gaze went straight for the bed to see what other surprises awaited him. Samantha had crawled on top of the covers fully dressed, cuddled up with one pillow…and had fallen fast asleep.