Nothing But Trouble (3 page)

While she rang up the beers on the cash register, Laura tried to figure out her mixed emotions. When she did, she blew out a disgusted breath.

She was insulted.

And not a little disappointed.

And entirely too close to pouting.

Wel , that would never do. So what if for one teensiest second she’d considered that maybe Ali had final y hit the jackpot, psychical y speaking, and that maybe, just maybe, this guy was her prince? What a crock! And worse, it hurt her pride that she had to
remind
herself she wasn’t in the market and wouldn’t be for a good long time, if ever. She didn’t have the time or inclination to get involved in an affair right now. And she would never, ever marry again.

Pushing away all her emotions except the angry one, she decided to go on the offensive and direct it at him for making her almost crazy for a moment.

With an aloof look on her face, she turned back to him and dumped his change on the bar.

He slid all of it right back at her. “Keep it.”

Normal y Laura considered overtipping a sign that a man was looking for more than good bar service. But she’d always figured that if they wanted to be suckers that was their problem.

Yet somehow, just by the lack of guile in his incredible eyes, she had the feeling this guy was just being generous.

She made a point of picking up two quarters and dumping them in her tip jar and leaving al the bil s right in front of the guy. To her surprise, he laughed and thrust out a hand. “Hey, I’m Brandon Prince. And you are . . . ?”

Laura’s heart stopped. For a moment she went stil before looking at him suspiciously. Obviously, she was having trouble hearing correctly.

He didn’t drop his hand, and real interest sparkled in his eyes. “Laura Tanner, right?” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

Stil she made no move to take that hand. Manners be damned. She was
not
going to touch him. “What did you say your name was again, mister?”

He grinned and final y gave up on the handshake, dropping his hand to the bar. “Brandon.”

She liked that name. Help. “And the last?”

“Prince.”

Laura rol ed her eyes, but her heart was racing. Prince Charming.
Pure coincidence. Has to be.
“Not charmed, I’m sure.”

He laughed a full, deep laugh. And though she continued to scowl at him, inside her hardened heart melted for a moment before she came to her senses.

Get a grip, Tanner. You don’t like men, remember. And you
sure-as-shootin’ know bet er than to let one with lush, green eyes and dimples
to die for and a sexy laugh affect you.

He continued to smile, and Laura’s heart flip-flopped.

Wel , okay, so he was gorgeous. But all she was feeling was lust. Normal, everyday lust. She didn’t have much use for men, but she had to admit they were good for one thing. The one thing she hadn’t had in a good, long time. Apparently too long, she decided, as she felt the heat of his gaze in every cel of her body. Ali was waiting for a drink order—unfortunately—so Laura was forced to face down her friends.

“Well?” Ali asked.

“Sorry, Ali, your pulp’s feeding you wrong information,”

she said, deciding not to elaborate on just how close Ali’s fortune-tel ing had come. The man might not be an honest-to-goodness royal prince, but he was certainly a prize.

While she tried to keep busy, she remained utterly aware of the man fifteen feet away. She could even tel when he looked at her, because her neck hairs sent up signals that made her shiver inside.

Another customer waved for a second round, and she had no choice but to pass Brandon Prince to deliver the beer. The bartender and owner in her forced her to check on him as she passed him. Sure enough, his mug was empty.

After depositing the beers, she stopped in front of him, gazing directly at his chest. “Another one?” she asked, her voice coming out raspy. She cleared her throat and tried again. “One more?”

“Did you know you’re going to fal in love with me sometime tonight?”

Laura just gaped at him for a moment before breaking out in startled laughter. Sure enough, Brandon’s eyes had gone smoky with more than just humor. Now there was unmistakable sensuality lurking in their depths. She ignored the burst of pleasure that gave her and concentrated on relief that he was just like every other male in the species. This, she could deal with.

“No, can’t say that I do know that.”

He nodded, and a lock of hair fel over his forehead enticingly. “It’s true, you know.”

“Right. And frogs have wings.”

She noticed Ned watching the conversation with avid interest. Flustered at this sudden change in the guy, she couldn’t help but ask Ned’s friend, “What happened, bucko? That beer getting to you? Five minutes ago you paid about as much attention to me as a fly.”

“The quiet yet friendly approach wasn’t working,” he answered solemnly. 

Little did he know. “Neither is this one.” She glared at Ned.

“Maybe y’al better head on home. I think your friend has reached his limit.”

Ned grinned and shook his head. “Nope. He’s only had two.” “Maybe he’s a lightweight.”

“Not unless he’s changed drastically since Yale.”

This gorgeous creature in jeans and T-shirt was an Ivy Leaguer? Ohhh, she didn’t like them. Except Hannah, of course.

They reminded her too much of al she’d never had, but yearned for. Like a col ege education. Any col ege education.

“I’m sober as a judge and just waiting patiently for you to fal for me,” Brandon added.

Her heart did another exasperating little lurch. She snorted.

“You won’t live that long, mister.” She cocked her head and gave him a once-over she hoped wouldn’t reveal her honest appraisal. “You know, we have a saying about folks like you where I come from.”

She noticed that as he answered, his eyes were seemingly locked on her lips. “What’s that, beautiful?”

“Your ego’s ’bout as big as a skunk’s tail and don’t smel as sweet.”

He grinned. “I thought I heard somewhere that women find self-confidence sexy.”

“Your sources are sadly il -informed.”

“Darn,” he said, but didn’t seem al too upset, nor any more humble for that matter.

“You havin’ another, or not?” she asked impatiently, a little irritated that she couldn’t shake his confidence. She was slipping.

She could usual y cut a man down in six words or less, walk away, and leave him there to bleed. She couldn’t even prick a drop of blood from this guy, and her usual reserve of swift comebacks seemed to have deserted her.

“How about something different this time?”

“Whatever you—” She stopped. Why had she never noticed before how sexual bar talk could be? “What’l you have?”

“Surprise me.”

She’d like to surprise him, all right. She’d like to look him in the eye and say, “Did you know you’re my prince?” And because she knew he wasn’t and never would be, she got irritated—with herself for succumbing to his hot stare, and with him for having the audacity to keep it up, even after she’d told him to back off.

So she went to work. Keeping her back to him, she prepared the drink, then with the most innocent smile she had in her repertoire, she carried it to him and set it down. “Fourteen ninety-five, please.”

He looked at it speculatively. “Looks dangerous. What is it?” “My own special drink. Try it.”

He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, never taking his eyes from hers. “Mmmmm,” he murmured in appreciation.

“Almond-scented. Amaretto?”

Laura set her crossed forearms on the bar and shook head.

“Cyanide,” she told him, batting her lashes. “I cal the drink, ‘Drop Dead.’”

“SHE WANTS ME,” Brandon murmured to Ned.

“What was your first clue?” Ned answered with a snort.

“The poisoned drink or the ‘drop dead’ comment?”

Brandon watched Laura Tanner move, and desire stirred in his belly—and lower. She had a feminine grace he found incredibly sexy, especially when she contrasted that with a mouth that could strip hides. He’d love to hear what kind of things she said when she was aroused beyond reason.

Her eyes were nearly the same color as her hair, a soft, honey brown that could bring a man to his knees. She could scowl and bluster all she wanted, but her eyes spoke a different language. In the few minutes he’d spent talking with her, he’d seen a zil ion different emotions shimmering in those big, brown depths.

“A minor setback,” he responded, shrugging. “She’l come around.”

“Double or nothing,” Ned chal enged.

“You’re on.” 

“What’s your next move, Casanova?”

Brandon admired the way Laura’s small hands efficiently performed what seemed like ten tasks at once while she talked and laughed with two women at the end of the bar. By their easy camaraderie, he’d guess they were good friends.

Certainly an eclectic bunch, he thought. Laura: no nonsense, tiny, restless. The waitress: blond and tall, with a dreamy expression on her face that softened otherwise sharp features, and more jewelry in her ears, on her wrists and fingers than he’d ever encountered before. And the woman seated at the bar: a dark, exotic beauty, but wearing a tailored black suit that said she was al business.

Brandon grinned as he watched Laura joke with another male customer while she fixed him a drink. She was, on the surface, extremely friendly with her customers. Most likely because they al knew not to get personal. A lesson Brandon had no intention of learning himself.

“Just watch.” Brandon waited until Laura glanced in their general direction, then waved her over.

The reluctance in her expression was endearing. Brandon couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Oh, yeah,” Ned said sarcastically, “you have a chance.”

Laura’s eyes darted around the bar, as if searching for any distraction she could find. Then with a sigh she headed back over to them.

“Want something else?”

“I’m fine for now,” he said, holding up the surprisingly delicious drink she’d fixed him.

She nodded and turned away.

“Wait!” Brandon said, trying desperately to come up with something clever.

She turned back, her eyebrows raised.

“What are the odds of talking you into going out with me?”

he final y said, deciding to stick with the direct approach.

She cocked her head to the side, in a gesture already becoming familiar to him. “What are the odds of Elvis playing pool in the back room?”

“That low, huh?”

“On a good day.”

Brandon grinned and let her go.

Ned snorted into his beer. “That was real smooth, buddy.

Like I said, you don’t stand a chance.”

Tossing some singles on the bar as a final tip, Brandon stood and slapped Ned on the back. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

“Oh, ye of little sense. The lady isn’t interested.” He held out his hand. “Pay up.”

“The night isn’t over.” Brandon stuffed his wal et into his back pocket. “What was the name of that bar we passed about a half block back? The Heartbreak Hotel?”  

Ned frowned up at him. “Yeah. Why?”

“No reason. I’m taking a walk. Be right back.”

“HE’S MANNA from heaven,” Ali breathed when Laura returned to her friends.

“He’s manna from Rhode Island,” Laura corrected her.

“He’s the one,” Ali said. “Definitely, he’s the one, Laura.”

Laura glared at her friend. “He’s not a prince.”

“You asked?” Hannah said with disbelief.

Laura bristled. “He’s American. Last I heard we don’t have a royal family.”

Ali rubbed her temples, a concentrated frown furrowing her brow. “Maybe we shouldn’t take the prince part literally.”

“I think we should,” Laura insisted.

“Prince or not, he’s certainly a hunk,” Hannah added. “Has he asked you out yet?”

“What makes you think he’d want to go out with me?”

“Because he looks at you like he wants to throw you down on the bar and have his way with you.” Hannah glanced down the bar again, then said, “Where’d he go?”

Laura’s head snapped up. Under the guise of needing to freshen her condiment tray, she turned toward the smal refrigerator and risked a quick glance toward Brandon Prince’s bar stool. Brandon Prince’s former bar stool.

Why her heart dropped to her stomach she didn’t know.

Ned was stil there, so a reasonable inference would be that the man in question had just gone to the rest room.

Except for the crumpled bil s tossed down beside his empty drink glass.

Brandon had gone. Left. Bugged out. After one slightly strong rejection, the toad had disappeared.
Jeez,
she thought, annoyed for no good reason,
if
all men gave up that easily, the human
race wouldn’t have survived this long.

Wel , who cared? So the man had awakened some long-slumbering hormones inside her. Big deal. Any real y good-looking guy could probably accomplish that much. After all, she wasn’t dead, just dormant. It was inevitable that eventually she’d find herself sexually attracted to a man. In fact, her long-range goal depended on it.

Why couldn’t he have swaggered into her bar a couple of years from now when she was ready for him? Other than his poor timing, Brandon Prince was perfect. He seemed to have al of the qualifications she’d decided the father of her child would have to possess.

She began cutting up some limes as she ticked off his assets.

The man was attractive.
Whack.
Now there was an understatement. He was tal and lean and gorgeous.

He looked healthy. That was extremely important to her.

She wished he’d stuck around enough so she could examine his teeth more careful y.
Whack.

He possessed a certain charm. Of course, she, herself, was immune to charm—
whack!
—but still she’d like for her child to inherit some.

He had enough intel igence to attend college. And an Ivy League col ege at that. Laura knew that Yale was one of the best.

He seemed to have a sense of humor. That was a must. The world was too hard as it was, without being able to laugh at it.

Definitely, the guy donating his sperm—
whack!
—would have to be able to laugh at life.