Lori Foster (7 page)

“Almost.” He checked out the window in the main living area, and then the smaller window behind her kitchen sink.

She checked out the flex of muscles in his shoulders and the way his butt looked in those threadbare jeans. He had such strong thighs, and such a terrifically muscled backside.

He met her gaze. “They’re locked.”

She knew it, because she kept them that way. In the summer, when it had gotten hot as Hades, she’d run a portable room air conditioner that hadn’t quite cut through the humidity, but at least offered a little relief. “It’s okay?”

“As good as it can be here, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to your landlord about changing the lock on the entry door.”

“I already did.” She felt a little out of control. Surely she wasn’t one of those women turned on by a macho display of violence? Not that there’d been much violence, not with the expedient way Rowdy had handled the bullies. “He told me to go for it.”

From across the room, Rowdy looked at her mouth, then her throat and finally her breasts. In a distracted way, he said, “I’ll take care of it before work.”

Her breath caught when she inhaled. “You don’t have to do that.”

Holding up his hands to prove that he’d keep his promise, he stalked toward her. “I want to do it.”

Oh, the way he said that. Her mind conjured all kinds of things other than replacing an old lock. “Okay, then.”

Casually, he leaned a shoulder on the door frame next to where she stood. “So.”

She started to thank him again, but he cut her off.

“You didn’t like seeing me with another woman.”

She stepped away from the open door—and away from temptation. “Seriously, Rowdy, I see that every night.” Lying through her teeth, she said, “Not a biggie.”

He thought about that, nodded. “You didn’t like seeing a woman with her mouth on my—”

“No!” Jerking back around, Avery broke her own rule. She stretched up to smash two fingertips against his mouth. “Don’t you dare say it.”

Slowly, Rowdy wrapped his much-larger fingers around her wrist and lowered her hand to his chest.

And, oh, God, that wasn’t much better than touching his mouth. He felt so hot.

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand. “I can promise you that it won’t happen again.”

She curled her fingers against him, a little embarrassed that her nails were clipped so short, her hands rough from so many washings during work. The smell of the bar probably clung to her.

Then she remembered that it didn’t matter; she’d never again be that manicured woman from her past. “At work, you mean?”

His mouth tightened. “I won’t lie to you, Avery. I’m not going to become a monk.”

Thank God. That would be such a waste of raw sensuality. Unsure what his point might be, Avery said, “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Good, because now I have a question for you.” He released her, took a step back so that he stood outside the door and asked, “How long do I have to wait, honey?”

Avery’s heart jumped. She could have pretended that she didn’t understand, but she knew exactly what he meant.

Rowdy didn’t rush her, and he didn’t joke. That told her he was serious, so she gave him a real answer.

“I don’t want to be an available convenience. I don’t want to be interchangeable.”

His gaze darkened, grew more intense.

“So...” She screwed up her courage. Not to say it, but to mean it. To commit to it. “I guess you have to wait long enough that I know you want me, specifically, more than you want easy sex.”

He touched her jaw, the side of her throat, and opened his hand on the back of her neck. “I think I can handle that.”

He
thought
he could? That was the best reassurance he could give? She started to protest, but he put his mouth over hers in a kiss that was deep, soft and consuming. His warm tongue lightly teased, and his hard body stole her breath.

When he ended the kiss, she more or less hung limp in his arms right outside her door. “Damn, woman, you do know how to drag out the suspense.” He kissed her once more, firm and quick—then lifted her over the doorjamb and back into her apartment. “Lock up behind me. I’ll see you tomorrow. And remember, anything at all happens, I want to know, no matter what time it is. You call me.”

She nodded. What in the world did he think would happen? “Thank you for...well, everything.”

He had such a gorgeous smile. “My pleasure, Avery. Always.”

Always...until he got what he wanted, and then he’d probably be done with her.

She closed and locked the door, and then she started grinning. Holy cow. Rowdy Yates had packed a wallop in that kiss.

No matter how long it lasted, Avery knew her world would never be the same.

She supposed she should call the doctor, since it appeared she’d be needing the pill after all.

* * *

F
OR
THE
FIRST
time since buying the bar, Rowdy couldn’t concentrate on business. He’d kissed Avery on her doorstep three days ago. The next day when he’d gone back to change out the lock, she’d given him a key and insisted on repaying him what he’d spent at the hardware store. He’d taken that one on the chin because she’d been so insistent about it.

But since then, she’d also been working extra hard, almost as if she wanted to make sure she didn’t get any special favors just because she’d admitted her interest.

Not like he could show favoritism anyway. She was the only bartender—a situation he’d need to remedy if he ever hoped to spend much time with her. When she needed a break, he was the one to give it to her. If she needed a day off, he worked the bar. The bar was closed on Sundays, but he often used that day to work on more renovations to the unused areas. He wouldn’t be satisfied until every inch of the bar was used wisely.

Each night he’d wanted to drive Avery home, but she always refused. So instead he had to stand there and watch her get on a bus.

Avery didn’t know that he followed in his car to make sure she got in without being bothered. On one of those nights he’d spotted Cannon and his buddies hanging around again, but other than watching Avery go into her apartment, Cannon hadn’t approached her.

The hours they kept made it tough for Rowdy to work a seduction. And damn it, with every hour that passed, he wanted her more.

As he cleared a table to help Ella with the remaining customers, a sexy blonde leaned into his view. “Hey, Rowdy.”

Her cleavage just naturally drew his attention. “Hey...” He racked his brain...something with an
S,
if he recalled right. “Sheila, isn’t it?”

“You remembered!”

More like he’d gotten lucky with guessing. She came into the bar several times a week, and each time she hit on him. He’d planned to take her up on her not-so-subtle offers—until Avery had laid out her stipulations. Now, knowing Avery would eventually be his, Sheila held little interest for him. “Of course I did. You’ve turned into a regular.” He went back to cleaning the table.

“You know,” she said suggestively, “I live close by.” Her hand smoothed up his arm to his shoulder. She leaned in to whisper, “We could get there in under twenty minutes.”

He couldn’t help but grin. It was nice to be wanted, especially with Avery all but avoiding him. And thinking of Avery, he straightened again and glanced her way.

Even from across the room, her fierce glower torched him. She looked like she expected him to haul Sheila off to his office any second. Apparently, his little bartender still didn’t understand just how much he wanted her specifically, not just any willing body.

Rowdy saluted Avery before saying to Sheila, “I appreciate the offer, hon, I really do. But I’m slammed.”

“Tomorrow, then.” She trailed a painted fingernail over her collarbone, and then dipped it into her cleavage.

Which, of course, ensured that his gaze followed.

Nice rack. Big and heavy and pale. She’d be a handful.

He wasn’t tempted even a little. “Can’t. I’m out of commission until...” Until when, damn it? How long would it take for Avery to realize how good they’d be together? Whether she felt the chemistry or not, he knew they’d burn up the sheets.

Deciding it didn’t matter because Sheila wasn’t doing it for him anyway, Rowdy said, “Until further notice. The bar is really growing, and as it is, I’m only squeaking in a few hours of sleep a day.”

“I could make it worth your while.”

“I didn’t have a doubt.” He nodded at a tableful of young men behind them. “They know it, too. They haven’t been able to take their eyes off you.”

Sheila wasn’t fooled. She knew a rejection when she heard it, regardless of how he’d tried to pretty it up. “It’s your loss.” With a smile, she went off to easier game.

Rowdy shook his head, always amused by women and their antics. It’d be nice if Avery were so predictable.

Then again, it was her uniqueness that he lo—

Whoa. No fucking way. He stomped that thought right out of his head real fast.

He tried focusing on the bar instead, on the many tasks that still needed to be done. But on his way to the kitchen with some dirty dishes, he again sought out Avery. She bustled along the busy bar, filling drink orders and smiling at customers—all of them men.

In many ways he felt like a possessive ape around her, but this he took in stride. He knew Avery well enough to know she wouldn’t flirt with a customer, and beyond that, she wasn’t interested in hard drinkers.

He was just about to push into the kitchen when the phone rang. Avery answered it. No big deal. With the only phones behind the bar and in his office, she took the calls more often than not.

He went on through the kitchen doors and deposited the dirty dishes into the sink. Even with the dinner hour long over, Jones still hadn’t finished up. Rowdy knew he had to find him some help soon or Jones would quit on him.

“Leave those if you want,” Rowdy told the cook.

“You paying me for the time I’m here?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Yeah, and it’ll only take me another hour, so I’ll stay.” He pointed a scrub brush at Rowdy. “But stop being so choosy and hire someone already, will you?”

“Working on it.” Hell, he’d interviewed a dozen people. “It’s not as easy as you’d think.” Especially with the bar’s reputation. He’d had a few druggies show up, a hooker, a drunk and a barely of-age kid who’d quailed at the idea of putting in eight hours.

Suddenly Ella stuck her head into the kitchen. “Rowdy?” Her usual smile was missing, her tone no-nonsense. “Avery’s in trouble.”

Instead of asking questions, Rowdy dropped the dish towel and strode through the doors and into the main room. He sensed Jones and Ella right on his heels.

His gaze locked on Avery. She looked more annoyed than hurt or afraid, but a big bruiser had her half pulled over the bar thanks to a grip on her wrist. Rowdy barely remembered moving before he had the heavy man by the front of his shirt. “Let. Her. Go.”

The guy released Avery with a shove and she stumbled back, fetching up against the ice chest.

Rowdy saw red. Back in the good old days, before he was a fucking proprietor, he’d have taken the guy apart and been done with it. Now...well, now he had boundaries, so he’d try it the “nice” way—and hope the guy gave him a reason to demolish him. “Get out and don’t come back.”

“Who the hell are you?” the man demanded.

Righting herself, Avery said, “Rowdy, don’t do it.”

Vibrating with the surge of anger, Rowdy kept one fist knotted in the man’s shirt, the other held down at his side.

As the man tried to jerk free, his shirt ripped.

Rowdy wanted to rip out his heart, too. It wasn’t easy, but he managed to say with controlled fury, “Don’t ever put your hands on my employees.”

Realizing he had the attention of the owner, the man shoved his face close. “I’ve been here for hours. She made me lose my temper.”

Rowdy didn’t blink; it took all his concentration to fight his natural instinct to defend what was his—and he didn’t mean the bar.

“Ever touch her again and you’ll lose a hell of a lot more. Now
leave.
”

Frustrated, the man shoved both hands through his dark, greasy hair. He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t have time for this shit.” Belatedly, he looked around, realized he was drawing attention and leaned in for privacy.

The foul stench of sweat and desperation almost caused Rowdy to flinch.

“I made a deal,” the man said through wet lips, “and I never got paid. The owner traded me some of the equipment to even things up and avoid retaliation.”

“I’m the owner,” Rowdy enjoyed telling him. “And I don’t trade with drug dealers.”

“Before you!”

“Before me is none of my concern.”

The man locked his large hands into boulder-size fists. “Look, buddy, my day has been shit already, okay? I have my own debts to pay, the junker truck I borrowed barely runs and to top it off, the old lady shoved the kid off on me.”

Ice ran down Rowdy’s spine...
Shoved the kid off on me...
His thoughts scrambled, tripping over ugly possibilities.

“So now I’m done playing nice.” The man ground his teeth together and lowered his voice to a snarl. “Either give me the equipment or give me my money.”

Rowdy swallowed hard, but sickness continued to crawl up his throat. A Mack truck parked on his chest, making a deep breath impossible. Ugly memories sharpened everything he felt. “Where are you parked?”

Thinking he’d won, the bruiser rubbed his hands together. “Out back. I’ll take the jukebox and the—”

“We’ll discuss it.” Rowdy clamped a hand on his arm and propelled him forward. “Let’s go somewhere private.”

A soft, feminine voice reached out to him. “Rowdy?”

He didn’t look at Avery. He didn’t dare. The last thing he needed was her interference. “I’ll be right back,” he told a narrow-eyed Jones and a pale Ella, “Back to work.”

Avery said nothing else, and that should have made him suspicious, but he was too busy concentrating on the man in front of him. Big, dirty, a bully used to getting his own way, scum who didn’t mind making a scene or using his strength against those who were smaller or weaker. Rowdy might’ve just met the bastard, but he knew him.