He stared at her.
Rolling her eyes at his silence, assuming his reticence was because he didn’t want to divulge his age, she turned and grabbed the empties off the table. “I could card you, you know.” Bottles clinking together in her hand, she said mischievously, “But you’reclearlywell beyond a questionable age, being geriatric, so I’d have trouble justifying it unless we had a senior citizen’s discount.”
His eyes narrowed, but a glint of amusement came back into them.
Returning behind the bar, she discarded the bottles. “I was in elementary school when you were in boot camp. I’m not too far ahead of those two, so that must put me outside of your limits, which—shockingly—you have. Darn the luck.” She placed her fists on her hips, her expression one of exaggerated woe.
Mac’s brown eyes danced with challenge and merriment as he lifted the bottle again, taking a long drink from it, watching her. She watched him back as he took the pull. His eyes stayed on hers, but she sensed he saw everything, touched her everywhere with his look. She forced herself not to look away, to regulate her breathing. There was a physiological response to him, and it was disturbing.
She was troubled he could cause her body to throb in a way it hadn’t in a long time, with a need she hadn’t acknowledged and didn’t want to feel. She hadn’t felt release since Elijah. She had provided herself some relief, thinking of her husband as she touched herself. Of course, the pleasure had been steeped in an overwhelming sorrow, followed by guilt that she could feel such things still while he was dead.
And now this surly manwhore was the one who set off her libido. How could this be right? What was wrong with her? Was it a reaction to what she knew about him? Was it the idea of being with someone like him that titillated her? Of course, she’d seen what he had to offer.
“Thinking awfully hard there, Day.”
She turned away, chagrined by the thought he could read her mind. She picked up a bar towel and wiped her hands with a small shake of her head. “Not really.” She added, “And I’m notDay. Again, no ‘a’ in my name.”
Dark eyes regarded her relentlessly. “My special name for you,Day.”
Giving up, she mumbled, “You’re impossible.” She wondered how he managed to charm a woman into dropping her panties when the moment he opened his mouth, he was annoying and insulting as hell.
“Where’s Fred?”
“Don’t worry aboutmydog,” she countered.
He grunted out a sound she supposed was a laugh. “Your dog is about the only thing I worry about. Where is he? You didn’t leave him at your house.”
Cassidy gave him an irritated, quizzical look even though she could guess how he knew.
Mac stared back at her expectantly, not bothering to answer her unspoken question.
Heaving a sigh, she answered, “He’s in the office.”
Mac’s gaze flicked toward the hallway. “Here?”
“Yes, I bring him with me.”
His expression was impish. “To keep him away from me?”
Cassidy turned away from the combination of teasing eyes and playful smile which made him irresistible. “No, but your conceit is noted.”
“Sweetheart…” he started.
She returned her attention to him, guarded.
The bar door opened, interrupting him. Cassidy darted her eyes away from the blinding light.
“Hey, y’all!” Darlene greeted.
Cassidy was overcome with relief. She squinted as the door fell shut. “Dar! Hey!”
Mac’s eyes narrowed as he brought the bottle to his lips, not returning the greeting.
Cassidy met Darlene at the end of the bar. “Slow afternoon.”
“Yeah?” Darlene asked in disappointment. Her hair was in a fishbone braid down her back, cascading over her a black T-shirt and denim vest. She paired it with skinny jeans and black high-heeled boots. She winked at Mac. “Hey ya, Mac.”
He tilted the bottle toward her in salute. “Dar.”