Authors: Jennifer Bernard
He tried to remember. He’d been busy that day, and Bridget had hung around for a while wanting to chat. Really, he’d wanted to ask her to step behind the bar and help him out, but something about the way she refused to touch any of the bar stools and the wary glances she aimed at the Drinking Crew stopped him. “Black hair?”
“Yes.”
“Eyes?”
A little smile tugged at her lips, which seemed to grow more enticing the more he looked at them. “She has eyes, yes. But they’re not black.”
He thought hard. Try as he might, he couldn’t bring up a picture of Katie’s sister. He gave up. “It was Happy Hour. You know how it gets then.”
She shocked him by leaning in and planting a kiss on his cheek.
“What was that for?” Not that he minded, but it wasn’t exactly typical Katie behavior.
“I don’t know. For everything. Stopping that crazy-ass arsonist from burning us down.”
“Promise you won’t try that again.”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “For doubling our clientele in the space of two weeks. Never mind that they’re all women and mostly they drink club soda.”
He eyed her suspiciously. Something told him she was thanking him for something else entirely, but what? He couldn’t identify the gleam in her eyes. “Seems like all that ought to get me more than a peck on the cheek.”
She fiddled with her glass and gave him a sidelong look. “Do you . . . um . . . want more?”
He planted one foot on the floor, hooked the other around the leg of his stool and scooted it next to hers. Their thighs touched. His groin jumped. “I seem to recall a kiss that went way past peck on the cheek.”
“You remember that?” The light from the candle made her eyes look huge. They drew him in, closer and closer.
“I remember you tasted like honeysuckle. I remember we almost didn’t stop there.”
She swallowed. A shadow moved across her throat. He curved his hand around her warm neck. She tilted her head toward his hand, nestling it between her jaw and her shoulder. Did she want him to stop? He moved his fingers among the strands of satiny hair that had come loose from her ponytail. Her skin felt so delicate. Who would have guessed that scowling Katie would be so soft to the touch?
Maybe she used her frown to keep people from finding out.
Her lips opened on a sigh. Her eyes closed halfway and grew dreamy as he massaged the back of her neck.
“Sweet, delicious Katie, always hiding behind that frown.”
Her scent—like wildflowers in sunshine, with a dash of lighter fluid—embraced him. He wanted to bury his face in her hair. He wanted to taste the tender skin of her neck, run his tongue across her collarbone. He wanted to feel her breasts under his hands. His palms still held the memory of those aroused points.
And then his hands were there, on her chest. Even through her sweatshirt and whatever she wore underneath, he felt her nipples rise. His groin tightened, hard. His breath came rough. He wanted her, not as a cute, tipsy stranger this time. He wanted her as Katie, the girl who kept popping into his mind at the oddest times. When he was studying . . . when he was topping off a mug of beer . . . when he was fielding phone numbers from ten beautiful women clustered at the bar.
It was true. Even when the former Miss Vidalia Onion Queen was scrawling her number on his hand in red lipstick, he’d thought of Katie and how she never wore stuff on her lips. Katie’s lips didn’t taste like some artificial, sickly-sweet, chemical concoction. They tasted real and fresh. Like flower petals warmed by sunshine.
He hovered over her parted lips, letting the anticipation build, craving the taste of wildflowers on his tongue. Then his mouth was on hers, her soft flesh eagerly parting under his invasion as he drank her in. The kiss went right to his head, more intoxicating than any liquor in the bar, any nectar on the planet. She tasted like no other woman in the world. She scrambled his brains, fired his blood, sizzled his senses.
And then it came to him.
He took his hands off her chest and sat back onto his stool. Katie’s eyes snapped open and she let out a surprised little whimper of protest.
“What’s wrong?”
He tried to answer, but she rushed right over him.
“Is it that whole boss-employee thing? Forget about that. We’re off the clock right now. Besides, you’re a hero, remember?” She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and tried to pull him in.
But now that he’d had his stroke of genius, he couldn’t think of anything else. “I’ve got it, Katie. I figured out a surefire, guaranteed, can’t-go-wrong way to bring some money into the bar. You won’t have to break any laws or put a single homeless guy in danger.”
B
ridget prowled before thirty sweaty women and two men arranged in rows and dressed in spandex. “Grapevine,” she shouted. “Pick it up back there, Cindy.” She checked her watch. The class was almost over. By the redness of her students’ faces, she ought to slow things down anyway. She phased from her dominatrix voice to her Zen voice.
“Okay, people, good job, you’re all rock stars. Let’s start the cool down.”
Thirty pairs of eyes rolled with relief. She checked her front-row regulars. Good, even they were breathing hard. When Lula Blue had gotten a good workout, Bridget knew she’d done her job. Porn stars took their exercise very seriously.
She was about to compliment Lula on her form when she realized the woman wasn’t even paying attention to her anymore. Neither was anyone else. How strange. During step class, she was usually the object of the entire class’s undivided focus. As if she were some combination of kindergarten teacher and prison torturer.
She turned to see what everyone was looking at and saw, of all people, her sister Katie standing just outside the glass door. Right next to that unbelievable hottie, Ryan, who worked at the bar.
Someone fell off a step stool.
“Focus, people. You know how important the cool down is. Take your time, let your heart rate return to normal, and I’ll be back in a moment for our final stretches.”
This better be good. Bridget walked toward Katie and the hunk, who aimed a sweet smile her way. She stubbed her toe on the gym floor, trying to identify what was off in that smile. Men came on to her all the time, but this guy didn’t have that flirtatious look in his eye. And come to think of it, he was standing awfully close to Katie.
Had hell frozen over? Had the moon turned blue? She gave Katie a quick once-over. No, she hadn’t suddenly started dressing to show off her petite figure, per Bridget’s advice. She wore jeans rolled up at the ankles, black Converses, and a green and black boat-necked striped top. Granted, the green and black stripes set off the porcelain skin Bridget had always envied. But not to worry, Katie hadn’t suddenly turned into a fashion queen. She was staring at the class, looking appalled.
“Stop making faces at my students, you’re freaking them out,” Bridget hissed at her.
“Sorry.” Katie blinked. “Are they okay? Some of them look a little red in the face.”
“It’s called cardiovascular exercise. It’s good for you. Builds your strength and stamina, right?” Bridget turned to Ryan with her best sexy smile.
He gave her a slow, blue wink that nearly stopped her heart. “You’re the expert. Looks like you run a helluva class there. You’d have half my buddies in a puddle on the floor by now.”
Bridget preened. “People think it’s easy to teach exercise classes, but it’s not. You’ve got people at all different levels, from superfit to”—she gave Katie a glance—“allergic to anything that’s good for them.”
“Hey,” protested Katie.
Bridget kept her attention on Ryan. “I try to get her to take my class and eat healthy, I even got her a juicer, but she never, ever listens to me. Ever.”
Katie stuck out her chin with that stubborn look that everyone in the family knew so well. “I don’t like juice. I like milk shakes.”
“Someday those milk shakes are going to start showing up on your thighs, and when they do, I’ll have a front-row spot for you in my class.”
Ryan cleared his throat. “We’d like to talk to you about something. Do you have some time after your class?”
Indulging in a moment of pure feminine appreciation, she let her eyes travel up his strong brown throat, to the clean line of his jawbone and the playful set of his mouth. Everything about him screamed good times. He’d be fun to flirt with, fun to hang around, fun in bed, fun every which way you cut it.
So why was Katie looking so grumpy?
“Fine, as long as Katie wipes that frown off her face.”
“Katie?” Ryan nudged her.
Katie pasted a smile on her face. So her sister actually did what Ryan said. Interesting.
A
s Katie had warned, Bridget didn’t react well to Ryan’s idea.
“The Hair of the Dog? Meredith’s bachelorette party? You have got to be kidding.”
“I knew this was a stupid idea.” Katie tried to jump off her bar stool, but Ryan snagged her by the belt loop and made her stay put. He kept his hand at her back to make sure she didn’t bolt again—and to enjoy the feel of the silky sliver of skin between her jeans and her shirt.
“Hear me out.” Ryan offered Bridget another paper cup full of wheatgrass. Toned, the gym where Bridget worked, had a glass-topped juice bar and insanely overpriced drinks. He’d planted himself between the two sisters and ordered wild berry smoothies with bee pollen for all, with a wheatgrass chaser for Bridget. If this took too long, he’d be broke before he got Bridget’s okay.
“Forget about the Hair of the Dog for a second. Focus on what I’m offering. Firemen serving drinks to your guests. Real firemen. Even better, real Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel. The best-looking ones I can round up. What could be better than the Bachelor Firemen at a
bachelorette
party?”
“They’d do that?”
“I’ll have to talk them into it. But enough of them owe me so it shouldn’t be a problem.” Most likely, they’d be fighting over a chance to ply a bunch of cute girls with Melon Balls or whatever they drank. But he had to make it sound like a challenge. “They’ll do it to help me out.”
“But why the Hair of the Dog?” Bridget wailed. She slicked back a single hair that had escaped from her ruthless ponytail. Not a speck of mascara had slid from her eyelashes to her cheeks. Ryan had her number. This was a woman who knew exactly how things were supposed to be and didn’t tolerate anything less than perfection.
Katie butted in, even though he’d told her he’d do the talking. The two sisters obviously had some issues. “Because it’s our family business, because it’s about to go under unless we do something—”
“Because they’re going to love it,” interrupted Ryan. “That’s what bachelorette parties are for. One last chance to walk on the wild side before heading down the aisle. I guarantee this’ll be a party no one will forget. We’ll decorate it up good, right Katie?”
“Right,” she said through gritted teeth.
He patted Katie’s knee, then leaned to whisper in Bridget’s ear, “How about I sweeten the deal?”
K
atie watched Bridget’s eyes go wide with that fired-up look that meant nothing would get in her way.
“Okay,” announced Bridget. “We’ll hold the bachelorette party at the Hair of the Dog this Saturday night.”
Ryan shot Katie a smug smile. What the heck had he said to Bridget? All kinds of naughty things flitted through her mind. Did he ask her out? Did he tell her how gorgeous she was, much more so than her dorky little sister?
He got up from the chrome suede-topped stool and tucked the back of his shirt into his jeans. “Got a boys’ room here, or should I water a plant?”
“Please don’t do that. They’re plastic.” Bridget pointed out the men’s room, and Ryan headed that way with his slow-hipped stride. Katie watched female heads swivel as he passed. She bit back a sigh.
“Got a little crush, huh?” Bridget glanced down at her like Venus surveying a toad.
“No. No way.”
“Oh, relax. What’s the big deal? Any normal red-blooded woman would have a crush on him. I’m sure you’re one of hundreds. Thousands.”
That didn’t make Katie feel one single bit better. “What did he say to you just now?”
“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“What offer?”
“A secret offer. Don’t worry, Katie, you’ll like it too. Especially since you have a crush on him.”
Murderous rage percolated through Katie’s bloodstream. She clenched her fists onto the edge of the chrome stool to keep from hurling herself at her smirking sister. Good thing she had long practice with controlling the fury only her sister managed to inspire. When Katie died, she intended to have the words “She Didn’t Kill Her Sister” carved on her headstone.
Assuming she hadn’t killed her by then, of course.
Bridget lowered her voice. “FYI, since you like him, I consider Ryan strictly hands-off. But no one else at the party will. Just thought you might want to know you’ll have some competition.”
Katie’s tension went up ten more notches. She pressed her lips together. If she lost her temper, Bridget might change her mind.
“I’m trying to give you a heads-up.” Bridget offered her a smile that brought to mind the phrase “kill with kindness.” “A guy like Ryan is going to have girls throwing themselves at him every time he walks into a room.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that. So?”
“So maybe you want to get a crush on someone else. Someone more . . .”
More her league. More her type, more ordinary, more . . .
Katie could finish that sentence for her, but refused to give her the satisfaction.
“I don’t have a crush on Ryan. I’m not even sure I like him half the time.”
She saw Bridget’s sapphire-blue eyes lift, and felt a warm hand settle on her shoulder.
“That’s a shame. If you did, I might have to take advantage of you.”
She jerked her head around to meet Ryan’s gaze. Summery blue amusement swam on the surface, but underneath she saw something else. Had she hurt his feelings?
“Well, you should.” Bridget said with her typical bossiness. “Someone should. Unless she’s going to get back together with Doug, as I have frequently recommended.”
Katie hopped off the stool. No way was she going to stick around for a conversation about Doug with Ryan right there. “Better get to work,” she said in the most chipper voice she possessed. “I think you’re thirty seconds late for your class.”
Bridget, she knew, couldn’t stand being late. Her sister dashed off toward the glass-walled room where a new rainbow gathering of workout wear milled around.
“I didn’t mean that,” Katie quickly told Ryan, as he put some bills on the glass counter. “That part about not liking you half the time. That wasn’t true. I do like you half the time. My sister makes me crazy. I’m not responsible for my actions around her.”
“Did you just admit you like me half the time?” Ryan gave her a half smile, which she supposed was all she deserved.
“At least half. Maybe more.”
“More than half? You’re scaring me now. Let me know when I’m up to sixty-one percent and I’ll tone it down.”
She giggled, shocking herself. Katherine Maureen Dane was not the giggling sort.
“Let’s get out of here before they make us do laps around the juice bar,” Ryan said.
They left the air-conditioned cocoon of fitness and hit the sweltering sidewalk outside Toned. If she was totally honest, Katie liked Ryan much more than sixty-one percent of the time. In fact, she liked him almost all the time. Which added up to more than she liked anyone else.
As for that crush concept? Forget it. She couldn’t handle that amount of honesty right now.
R
yan finally took Melissa up on her open invitation to dinner. He figured it was time. He missed Brody and Melissa, and besides, he wanted the captain’s permission to recruit guys for the bachelorette party.
The last time he’d seen their house, Brody had still been building it. Ryan had contributed his share of framing and sheetrocking, all part of the San Gabriel firefighters’ mission to help Brody recover from his divorce. But now that he’d married the woman of his dreams and adopted a child, the house looked like a gracious, well-lived-in family home.
Brody grilled burgers on their umbrella-shaded patio while Danielle splashed around in a kiddie pool decorated with seahorses. By unspoken agreement, no one talked about the firehouse. Instead Melissa handed him a Dos Equis and caught him up on the events of Danielle’s young life. They’d had a scare about six months ago, and were still coming to grips with it.
“Ironic, isn’t it, that a fireman’s daughter might have asthma? It was the scariest thing I ever saw, Ryan. She kept screaming she couldn’t breathe and to open the door. She kept saying, ‘Oxygen, oxygen’ . . . I didn’t even know she knew the word.”
“Man, that’s tough. Wonder if it’s all the smog around here?”
“Who knows? They say it’s usually genetic. But we don’t have that much information on her birth parents. It could be environmental. I’m pitching a three-part series about it to Channel Six.”
“When she grows up, Danielle is going to have major issues about how many news pieces she inspired.” Brody shook his dark head and flipped a burger. “The adoption itself was a ten-parter.”
“I had a lot of ground to cover.” Melissa twinkled at him with an adoration that would have made Ryan gag if he didn’t love them both so much. “I’m one of the first to explore the effect of adoption on the grandparents. I actually interviewed my father. He’s fairly photogenic, it turns out. He got some fan mail after that.”
“Is he good with Danielle?”
“He seems to be trying to make up for my lousy childhood by spoiling Danielle rotten. Amazing how people can change.”
Ryan didn’t answer that. It would take a lot more than an adorable granddaughter to make his old man change. He’d long ago given up hope of that.
At the sound of her name, Danielle hopped out of the kiddie pool and scampered over to the patio table, leaving little wet footprints across the cement. She made a beeline for Ryan and climbed into his lap.
Ryan wrapped his arms around the ball of wet little girl. “That’s not a shiver, is it? It’s a hundred degrees out here.”
Danielle grinned at him and cuddled closer. “That water is
too
cold. It’s colder than anything, even an ice cube!”
Brody turned from the grill with an indignant scowl. “Now that’s unfair. Even the little ones pick you.”
“Not all of them.” Ryan muttered, thinking of Katie. Not that he expected her to have a crush on him, but did she have to announce her lack of one so loudly? It had hurt. He had no idea why, but it had.
Melissa pounced. “Ooh, is someone giving you a hard time? Playing hard to get?”
Ryan snorted. “Katie doesn’t know how to play that game. Or any game. She doesn’t go for that stuff.”