She shook her head. ‘I’m working.’
‘This place is open all night?’ His brows lifted.
‘I work in a café in the mornings and some other shifts that fit around my classes and the bar work.’
‘And you work here every night?’
‘Not on Sundays.’
‘Where do you work on a Sunday—the café?’
She nodded, looking up in time to see his quick frown. She rolled her eyes. Yes, she worked hard; that was what people did when they had to. Eating was essential after all.
‘Why didn’t you take a summer internship?’
She turned and put all the bottles back in their places on the shelves. The summer internships at prestigious law firms in the city were sought after. Often they led to permanent job offers once degrees were completed. But she wasn’t going there again, not until her final year of study and she’d recovered her grade average. Not to mention her dignity. ‘I need to keep going with my studies and, believe it or not, I earn more in the bar.’
‘You get good tips?’
‘Really good.’ She rinsed her hands again and wiped down the bench.
‘You might get more if you let some more of that red lace stuff show.’ He glanced down the bar. ‘One thing we are going to do for the party is have better bartender outfits. You’d never guess what you wear beneath the undertaker’s uniform you’ve got going on in here.’
Heat scorched her cheeks again. Once again, why had she picked that wretched scarlet bikini? He was never going to let her forget it. ‘This is what we all wear in the bar. It’s simple, efficient and looks smart.’
‘It’s deadly dull and doesn’t make the most of your assets. Not like that red underneath it.’
‘It’s not underneath it.’
‘You took it off?’ He looked appalled. ‘Why on earth did you take it off?’
‘It was a bikini,’ she said, goaded. She closed her eyes and breathed deep to stop herself laughing. His wicked smile suggested he knew she was close to it anyway. She looked at him. Not at all sorry he had to shell out however many tens of thousands to hire the most popular bar in town outright for a night during the busiest time of the year.
‘Why do men get so fixated on lacy underwear?’ she asked aloud. ‘Don’t you know sexy underwear is no indicator of how far a woman is prepared to go?’
‘You’re saying you’ll go further than what your boring day-bra might indicate?’ he said mildly.
‘No!’ she snapped.
‘So you do wear boring day-bras?’
Oh, the guy was incorrigible. But, heaven help her, she couldn’t help but laugh. So she’d see him some saucy talk, and raise him some flirt. She nodded with a secret smile. ‘No lace.’
‘Why’s that?’ The corner of his beautiful mouth lifted.
‘No boyfriend to buy me some,’ she flipped tartly and stalked away, letting the clip of her high heels underline her reply.
‘You wouldn’t let some guy buy you frills,’ he called after her. ‘You’re too independent for that.’
Very true. Interesting he understood that. But she swung back to face him because she didn’t want him thinking he knew it all. ‘Actually it’s just that they’re uncomfortable.’
‘They are?’ His gaze lowered again.
‘No woman can wear those things for more than five minutes.’
‘No woman in my presence would need to.’
She ignored the comeback and cooed instead. ‘I’m very sensitive. Lace hurts.’ She watched his expression with amazement. Was he actually blushing? She smirked, pleased she’d finally managed to push him off his self-assured pedestal.
‘How sensitive?’ He walked down the side of the bar so he was close to her again. ‘Can they cope with touch?’
That was when she realised his flush wasn’t from embarrassment but arousal. Her body clenched, drenched in fire. ‘No.’
‘No?’ he asked, surprised. The flush on his skin deepened.
She was burning up with a blush to match.
‘Hmm. That sensitive, huh?’ He looked thoughtful. ‘What other bits are too sensitive?’
She couldn’t look away from the teasing intimacy in his eyes. The intense drive of his words melted her. She hadn’t meant this to get so personal. She’d been out to tease him. Only her too-sensitive bits were shrieking right now, liquefying in the heat he was conjuring—his words locking her in a lit crucible.
‘Must make it difficult for you,’ he said softly. ‘I bet you pull away. You can’t just go with it.’ He looked at her speculatively. ‘Just the way you pulled back from me before.’
She was so hot, her soul singed by words alone. She couldn’t even answer. Because in truth? He was right.
‘Seems to me you need some practice coping.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not inexperienced.’ And she definitely didn’t need to get any more experience by playing with him.
His mouth curved in disbelief. ‘Aren’t you?’
Well, okay, she wasn’t as experienced as him. She lifted her head proudly. ‘I’ve had boyfriends.’ Jerks, the pair of them.
‘Yeah, but you’ve never been with me.’
‘And you’re that amazing?’ she asked, managing a tone of utter skepticism, which was quite something given her wayward hormones were shrieking that yes, he was that amazing!
His expression was pure intent. ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’
‘You’re so obnoxious.’ She recovered her sass, more determined than ever to shoot him down. ‘Why would I want to have sex with a guy who’s been with every other girl in the city?’
‘Not every other girl,’ he protested. ‘But I don’t see anything wrong with sharing the love,’ he added. ‘If you have too much sex with one woman, she starts to get funny ideas. Better to have sex with too many women. Safer.’
‘Oh, real safe.’ She rolled her eyes. But he wasn’t denying it. Brad Davenport wasn’t a commitment kind of guy. He was a playboy.
He reached across the bar and ran a finger down her arm. Electricity sparked every millimetre of the way. She saw it. He saw it. There was no denying it. So she didn’t.
‘This isn’t anything more than lust.’ She turned and literally burrowed out more ice from the freezer.
‘So what?’ he calmly said behind her. ‘It’s still worth exploring.’
‘Even if I agree there’s
chemistry, I’m not sure I can bear to feed your over-bloated ego by saying yes.’ But the feeling the guy could inspire with just a look?
‘You’ll always regret it if you don’t,’ he insisted.
‘And probably regret it if I do.’
‘Damned either way, then,’ he said with a laugh. ‘You might as well have the good moment and enjoy it.’
‘Moment?’ She suppressed the squeeze her muscles had in response to his laugh. ‘As in singular? What are you going for here, some orgasmic snuffle?’
‘You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of you.’
‘I don’t need anybody to take care of me,’ she denied, affronted.
‘Really?’
Narrow-eyed, she watched him draw closer. It seemed to her there might be an imbalance of attraction here. Was it all about her wanting him? Or was the chemistry as insane for him as it was for her?
‘Maybe you don’t. But you keep thinking about that kiss,’ he said. ‘I can tell.’
She was shaking her head already but when she went to deny it he put his finger back on her mouth.
‘You can’t hide it. I see it in your eyes. It’s the same for me,’ he said simply. ‘I want to kiss you again.’
‘Brad—’
He straightened. ‘I accept that you’re saying no, for now, but don’t deny that the desire is there.’
‘I haven’t kissed anyone in a while.’ She shrugged. ‘What happened before was merely a reaction to that.’
He shook his head. ‘You were every bit as into it as I was. You’re as “all or nothing” in your approach to life. It’s just that you go for nothing and I go for all.’
‘Have you ever managed nothing?’
‘I am right now.’
‘Really.’ Not a question, more an expression of disbelief. ‘Almost two hours with nothing?’
‘Nothing,’ he said, as if it wasn’t an experience he was enjoying. ‘Not so much as an eyelash flutter since you.’
Mya chuckled and this time she reached across, clasping his wrist as if she feared he was about to have a heart attack. ‘How are you coping?’
‘Moment by moment.’ He clapped his hand over hers. ‘But I’m quietly confident.’
‘Quietly?’ she mocked. She leaned across the bar again and gave him some advice. ‘You shouldn’t hype yourself up so much. It’ll end up a disappointment.’