Something to Prove (4 page)

Quinn’s golden-brown eyes shot daggers at her husband, and Colin derived no small
amount of pleasure from witnessing it. He moved to the table and took the seat that
had always been his father’s. When he came back to town last year, Colin had started
sitting in the spot just to irritate Ryan. He’d succeeded, but he never felt right
in the chair.

He was no more head of the family now than he could’ve been when his father died.
Those were shoes he didn’t know how to fill.

Mom and Moira carried the last of the plates of food to the table. Colin was struck
by how much Moira looked like their mother. Red hair and pale blue eyes. His sister
had become a woman when he wasn’t looking. He was suddenly grateful Maggie wasn’t
there to make him feel even older. Ryan said grace. Colin looked around the house
and saw subtle differences. The pictures on the wall had been updated with wedding
photos of Ryan and Quinn and a family portrait with everyone but him.

One photo of him remained on the wall: His father stood with Ryan and Colin at his
side in front of the bar at O’Leary’s. One more piece of evidence that his life hadn’t
moved on but everyone else’s had.

Moira nudged him with a bowl of potatoes. “Something wrong?”

He slid his easy smile into place to be the man everyone expected. “Nope.”

Elizabeth’s first day with the new managers went well. They agreed that the place
needed to be cleaned up and that there was no excuse for the condition it was in.
They both offered suggestions, and they talked about drink prices and schedules. When
she left at six in the evening, she wanted to believe they had a handle on it. Gary
was going to close tonight and Mike would open tomorrow afternoon.

She planned on getting some rest and then returning to watch Gary work. She was no
fool. Leaving a new employee unsupervised on the first day could easily spell disaster.
Back in her hotel room, sleep claimed her before she even thought about the list of
things still hanging on her to-do list.

Elizabeth startled awake with the ringing phone. She shot into the air, while clearing
her throat. “Hello?”

“Hey, Elizabeth. It’s Gary. You’d better get back here. There was a fight. I had to
call the cops and it’s a mess.”

“I’m on my way.” She stood and smoothed a hand down her suit, then stopped. Absolutely
no one involved was going to notice a few wrinkles. Of that, she was sure. She couldn’t
believe that there were problems already. She sped to the bar, hoping she wouldn’t
get pulled over. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of a
ticket.

Outside the bar, the usual row of motorcycles leaned drunkenly against the building.
That was the first problem. Red and blue flashing lights filled the street in front
of her. Bar fight? It must’ve been an all-out brawl. She parked in front of the bikes
and went inside. Two patrolmen were hauling out a man in cuffs and, from the looks
of it, he hadn’t been the only one.

She strode over to where Gary stood behind the bar, talking to a cop. He looked much
younger than he had when she’d hired him. His inexperience showed as he shifted under
the officer’s questions. When his gaze met hers, he gestured to the cop. “Hi, Elizabeth.
Officer, this is the owner, Elizabeth Brannigan.”

“Ma’am.”

“What happened?”

Gary shrugged. “I’m not sure. Two guys started getting loud, and I told them to take
it outside. They laughed at me and started swinging on each other. Before I knew it,
it was a free-for-all.”

Elizabeth turned in a slow circle to survey the damage. She counted at least two tables
and three chairs as casualties. The look on Gary’s face let her know she was about
to lose more than just furniture.

She tapped the officer on the arm. “This is the first time I’ve been at the bar for
any length of time. My father bought it and let it run itself, so I know very little
about what has been going on. Do you have any idea how often the police are called
to this location?”

He smiled in a you-poor-thing way. “I don’t have exact numbers, but we usually expect
a few calls a month. I have to say, though, that this is the worst I’ve seen in years.
Mitch used to keep it pretty quiet. There’s always someone looking for trouble, and
he was good at keeping it under control.” He pointed at the damage and the few drunks
still sitting around, enjoying the show. “You might want to close up for the night
and think about getting a doorman or bouncer.”

More things she hadn’t thought of. Keith always had staff in place. Bouncers were
never even on her radar.

Gary announced last call and the few men still drinking grumbled, but one look from
the cops quelled that.

“Give us a holler if you need help,” the officer called as he walked out the door.

Elizabeth leaned against the bar. Inside her head, she screamed, “Help,” but nothing
left her lips.

A few minutes later, Mitch strolled through the door.

“We’re closed,” Elizabeth said.

“Yeah, I heard you had some problems. I brought you a gift.” From behind his back
he produced a baseball bat.

Her stomach jumped and her heart beat double time. She took in his disheveled appearance—hair
standing on end, stains on the front of his shirt—and he seemed to sway in place.

Mitch gently swung the bat in his right hand until it landed softly in his left palm.
He neared and Gary said, “Do I need to call the cops back?”

Mitch shook his head. “Not for me. I thought you might want to keep this behind the
bar. The crowd is a little rough sometimes.”

He laid the bat across the bar with a sick little smile. “See ya ’round.”

Gary sighed. “You know, Elizabeth, I really want this job, but I can’t do this. I’m
here all alone, and this could’ve gotten bad.”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea. Mitch didn’t tell me about problems, but I should’ve guessed,
given the clientele.”

“When you get new customers, give me a call, and I’d be more than happy to work for
you. Until then, you’re not paying me enough to risk my life.”

She nodded. She wasn’t even going to try to convince him. Maybe between herself and
Mike, they’d be okay. Mike was a much bigger guy, so maybe he’d be more intimidating
than Gary. When the cop mentioned getting a bouncer, she’d immediately thought of
Mitch. The cops seemed to think he had some magic with this crowd, and being a bouncer
didn’t put him near the register. After his visit, though, her stomach turned again.
No, she wouldn’t go back to him. He’d had a decade to prove his worthiness.

Elizabeth locked the door behind the last customer. It was just after ten o’clock,
but it felt like three in the morning. Gary helped her close and clean up the broken
furniture. She pulled cash from the register for his one night of work. “If you know
anyone who would make a good bouncer, please send them my way.”

“I will. Thanks for the chance. I hate to leave you like this, but I have a family.”

“I understand. I’ll figure something out. Thanks.”

Gary walked out the door, and Elizabeth sat in the silence, too wound up to go back
to sleep, too defeated to attempt to tackle the problem at hand. She grabbed her purse
and locked the door behind her.

Not wanting to be alone, she drove to O’Leary’s. She probably wouldn’t find any answers
there, but she was sure to see a friendly face.

Colin poured another beer and checked the time. Still two hours until closing. It
had been a quiet evening, which suited him, so he’d sent most of the staff home. He
and Jenna could close by themselves. Someone kept playing some sad, sappy music on
the jukebox, which didn’t help his mood.

He wiped down the bar, thinking about his options if he left O’Leary’s. The money
he’d socked away wasn’t enough for a business of his own. The few offers he’d made
went nowhere. Ryan had made it abundantly clear that he would be no help. Colin would
have to figure it out on his own.

He didn’t get far with his tired brain when a soft scent tickled his nose. He looked
over to see Legs. Of course, the woman had yet to introduce herself, but she had a
great pair of legs, so in his imaginings of her, he called her Legs.

Even at midnight, she wore her usual power suit, albeit a little on the wrinkled side.
Her dark hair was pinned tightly in place except for a few locks around her face.
She sat on a bar stool and waited. Dark smudges marked under her eyes. She looked
beat. “Hi there.”

“Hi.” The smile she offered stayed a little on the stiff side, neither genuine nor
friendly.

“It’s late. Are you still drinking Irish coffee?”

“Sure, why not. It’s not like I’m going to be getting much sleep tonight.” She shifted
and propped her elbows on the bar.

“You know, when I think about staying up all night, it’s usually because I’m having
fun.”

She shook her head. “No fun here.”

“That’s too bad. You look like you could use some.” He turned to make her drink.

She wasn’t the only one. He needed to find a spark, something interesting before this
life swallowed him up.

He’d thought that coming home would fix things, that he’d find what he was looking
for. It felt good to be home, around his family, but he still needed more. He just
had no idea where to find the more.

Turning back to give Legs her drink, he thought he might like to have a night of something
more with her. He put on his best fuck-me smile and leaned against the bar. “What
do you say we get out of here?”

The drink in her hand bobbled and some whipped cream slipped down the side. Her face,
however, showed no sign of nervousness.

“That’s a tempting offer. More tempting than you can know, but I have too much work
to deal with.”

“What work needs to happen after midnight on a Sunday?”

“Everything that didn’t happen earlier today and everything that did.” She sighed
and drank her coffee, leaving a mustache of cream on her upper lip.

He hoped to watch her lick the cream off, but she swiped at it with a napkin instead.

“A couple of hours off could work miracles for both of us.”

She stared at her cup and he thought he had her.

“I have proven methods to get rid of that stress you’re carrying.” Her cheeks grew
pink, and he wanted to stroke them to see if they were as warm as they looked.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have too much going on right now.”

“No one can work twenty-four-seven. A little break, a little relaxation. Could be
fun.” He leaned forward and watched her throat work as she gulped her coffee. Then
he made a rare suggestion. “I live really close. Like, within minutes.”

She stirred the quickly melting whipped cream in her cup. “I really shouldn’t. But
thanks for the offer.”

Shouldn’t,
not won’t, not can’t. Colin left her with her thoughts as he continued to clean up.
She didn’t run after he’d made his proposition, so maybe he had some hope yet.

CHAPTER 3

E
lizabeth stared into her coffee cup. She’d had so much caffeine, she’d probably be
riding high for a week. The sexy bartender had made her a hell of an offer. She hadn’t
had sex in a long time. Her job crippled every relationship she’d tried to have. Her
life had become a series of short, monogamous flings. Like a sailor with a lover in
every port.

She watched the man clean glasses like he was giving a woman a rubdown. Who knew soapy
water could be so sexy? When he came by again, drying his hands on a towel, his brows
furrowed.

“Something wrong with the coffee?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I just decided that I’ve had a enough caffeine and
this wasn’t going to help me relax.”

He took the cup, dumped the contents into the sink, and returned with a glass of red
wine. “Try this.”

She sipped and the rich flavor rolled across her tongue. Much better than coffee,
but far from the expensive bottles her mother had gotten her used to. This was more
like fresh-from-college-living-on-a-budget wine.

“Good?” he asked.

“It is. Thanks.”

He walked away again. This time she noticed the way his jeans stretched across his
ass. Very good. As if he felt her ogling, he spun around.

The obnoxious blush that always ruined her ability to hide anything rose again. She
cleared her throat. “Where’s the washroom?”

He pointed toward the back. She took one big gulp of her wine and slid from the stool.
She knew exactly where the washroom was. She remembered from her last visit, but she
hoped the question covered her irrational behavior.

She hadn’t been so struck by a guy since college. Even then it was Janie and Lori
who drew guys in. It’s not that she was the ugly friend; on the contrary, she knew
she was pretty, but she was also clumsy around guys. Spilling drinks and tripping
on her own feet had been staples of her dating life.

In the bathroom she used the facilities and washed her hands. She felt a pleasant
buzz hum through her bloodstream. She couldn’t figure out, though, if it was the bartender’s
flirtation or the alcohol causing it.

The thought of his proposition warmed more than her blood. Her girlie parts started
to tingle.

Oh, God. It had been way too long if she started thinking about girlie parts. She
stared at herself in the mirror. Her life was pretty screwed up. She was in over her
head working on a project that she didn’t know how to fix. Her father wouldn’t consider
her as his replacement. Her brother . . . well, she hadn’t known what to think of
Keith for years.

She deserved a night of fun. The bartender was right. For tonight, she’d abandon thoughts
of CEO and IP and focus on having a good time.

She went back to the bar and ordered another glass of wine. This time, she’d take
it slow so she wouldn’t be drunk. It would be just her luck to have a guy willing
to take her to bed and then she’d be too drunk to enjoy it.

Other customers filed out slowly. The lone waitress wiped down tables.

“Can I get you anything else?” the bartender asked. “It’s last call.”

“No, I’m good with this.” She shot a look over her shoulder to make sure the waitress
couldn’t hear. “About what you said before . . .”

He froze, reading her expression, and then leaned in against the bar. “What?”

“I think you’re right. A night away from the chaos would do me good. Does your offer
still stand?” She smiled enough for it to be an invitation.

The silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity, and she started to believe
she’d imagined the entire conversation. Maybe he hadn’t really been flirting with
her. Maybe she had just wanted him to.

He shifted closer, slowly, almost unnoticeably. But then the smile slid across his
face, brightening his navy eyes, and she knew she hadn’t imagined any of it.

“You mean my offer for stress reduction?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper.
It was a bedroom voice if she’d ever heard one.

Oh, yeah
. She nodded, not trusting that words would come from her mouth. A moan was poised
at the back of her throat seeking a reason for escape.

Without looking away from her eyes, he called out, “Hey, Jenna, you can go on home.
I’ll close up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He broke eye contact then and pointed over his shoulder as he addressed Elizabeth.
“I need to finish up a few things.”

The waitress called out a good-bye and he followed her to lock the front door. He
dimmed the lights, and Elizabeth spun her stool to continue watching.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She hadn’t had anonymous sex in almost a
decade. The thought gave her pause. Those one-night stands had been far from great.
She’d been young and too timid to ask for what she wanted or needed in bed.

She watched this man move across the room efficiently and purposefully. Lust tugged
low in her belly and hormones surged.

He stalked toward her, sure in his movements. He probably did this all the time. She’d
seen women smiling at him across the bar. Flirting was no different from small talk
for him. She hoped he bought condoms by the case because she didn’t even have one.

“Second thoughts?” he asked.

“No.”

He stepped closer, nudging her knees apart. The heat from his body brushed her thighs,
and she wanted to pull him into her.

“Maybe we should at least exchange names. I’m—”

Elizabeth quickly put a finger on his lips to stop him. “No names.”

Names would complicate their time together. No names meant no future, no way to track
each other, just pleasurable anonymity.

His tongue darted out and wet her finger. He lowered his head, and her heart beat
so loud she was sure he’d hear it. Lips made contact and the moan she’d withheld bubbled
back up. His fingers skimmed down the side of her body sending shivers through her.

He took his time licking and nibbling across her jaw and down her neck. There was
way too much fabric between them.

She pulled back. “Let’s get out of here. You said you live close?”

“Right upstairs.”

He stepped away and she hopped off the stool. She immediately lost her balance.
Not now, not again
. She hadn’t felt a bit of nervousness this time and clumsiness still struck.

“Whoa.” He reached out and grabbed her elbow to steady her.

She felt like a ten-year-old wearing her mother’s heels for the first time. She straightened
and ran a hand down her skirt. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He didn’t answer, but took a moment to study her face. She smiled and nudged him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Which way out?” God was she starting to sound desperate?

“You look a little drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. Not even two glasses of wine. Who gets drunk off two glasses?” She
spread her arm out and promptly knocked over the glass she’d left on the bar. “Oh,
shit. I’m sorry.”

She grabbed the towel he’d left on the counter and began to mop up the small puddle.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His hand landed on her shoulder. “Maybe I should call you a cab.”

She spun quickly, rag in hand, to tell him no. Unfortunately, she misjudged how close
he stood to her. The wine-soaked rag squished against his shirt.

His eyes darted north the way most men’s did to control their anger, but he looked
like he was attempting to control laughter.

Great. Now he was laughing at her. Blood rushed to her head from anger instead of
lust. “I am not drunk.”

He crossed his arms and continued to study her as if he were a visual Breathalyzer.

The moment was gone. The lust she’d felt dissipated. Embarrassment replaced passion.
“This was a mistake.”

She pushed past him and made her way to the door.

“Wait.”

Elizabeth didn’t. She unlocked the door and rush-walked to her car. She would’ve run,
but she was afraid she’d fall on her face. She knew alcohol had nothing to do with
it, but she had no way to convince him.

Once, just once, she’d like to have an encounter with a man that didn’t involve her
damaging property or causing bodily harm. She’d been a clumsy child, but after her
father had found success, her mother had sent her to every dance class imaginable.
Her mom figured dance would give Elizabeth the grace she so desperately needed. It
didn’t have the desired effect, not totally, anyway. Elizabeth had learned to dance,
but her clumsiness had stayed. It reared its ugly head every time she moved too fast
or felt nervous.

Intimacy with a man made her nervous. Good-nervous, but still. Once they really started
she was fine, but getting there was the problem.

She thought back to the sexy bartender. She’d been so close to getting there with
him. He wasn’t the first guy to think she was drunk. That was the main reason she
tried not to meet men in bars. Her clumsiness usually made them think she’d had too
much to drink.

Being spontaneous didn’t work for her. If she’d planned ahead, if she psyched herself
up for a one-night stand, she would’ve fared better.

Elizabeth drove back to her hotel alone. Back to the drawing board. Maybe a good night’s
sleep would give her the relaxation she needed.

Yeah, that’ll be so much better than a round of hot, sweaty sex
.

Elizabeth had been in town for a week and she felt buried. IP wasn’t just in the red,
it bled profusely. She was desperate to turn this bar around, and her self-imposed
deadline to make some kind of improvement was bearing down on her.

Two days had passed since almost having sex with a stranger. She knew how Keith and
her father normally approached a job, but this one was so different, she thought she’d
tackle it with a new method, one she prayed she wouldn’t regret. Armed with the bit
of research she could drag up, she entered O’Leary’s Pub again before she lost her
nerve.

She’d never tried a move so bold, and she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. But it
felt right.

She stood at the bar and waited to get the attention of the bartender. Of course,
it would have to be the sexy one who’d offered her plenty of distraction and left
her disappointed. She’d hoped that since it was early afternoon, he wouldn’t be here.

The bar was slow, the only customers being a couple of old men at the end of the bar
nursing their beers and watching a baseball game.

With a towel slung over his shoulder, the bartender approached, smile at the ready.
Then his eyes focused on her, recognition changing his expression. “Hi.”

She shoved unpleasant memories from her mind and pasted on her business smile and
said, “Hi, I’m looking for Mr. O’Leary.”

He slapped the towel against the bar. “You found him.”

Oh, Christ. Why couldn’t she catch a break? How was she supposed to negotiate with
a guy who turned her on with a simple look?

She cleared her throat. “Mr. O’Leary, I’m Elizabeth Brannigan, and I have a proposition
for you.”

He leaned his forearms on the bar and lowered his voice. “As good as the proposition
I made the other night?”

Although his jaw had been smooth the other night, it looked like he hadn’t shaved
since. His scruffiness added to his sex appeal, and she tried to block it. Her ears
burned, and she wished she hadn’t pulled her hair back. Before she could respond and
make her intentions clear, a petite blonde sped around the corner.

“Hey, Colin, there’s a problem in the kitchen.”

Elizabeth straightened. “Colin? You’re not Ryan O’Leary?”

Colin pressed his lips together. “Nope.” He stuck a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s
in the back office.”

She clenched her teeth and turned on her heel, anger burning in her chest. She’d done
her homework. Why didn’t she know there was a brother?

“A word of warning. He won’t be as receptive to a proposition as I would, given he
has a wife and a baby on the way.” He tossed a grin over his shoulder as he headed
into the kitchen.

She strode toward the office, practicing her speech again. She could do this. It was
different from their usual approach. Keith would normally hire an all-new staff and
then send her in to supervise them. Maybe it was because her dad had kept the bar
for a dozen years and never said anything.

She
wanted to make this work, not pay someone else to do it.

She knocked on the office door and waited.

“Come in.”

She swung the door open into a small but tidy office. Of course, it was bigger than
the one she’d been trying to work in. A leather couch sat in the corner and a huge
oak desk dominated the other end of the room. The man behind the desk was a dead ringer
for Colin. Even if she had known there was a brother, she could see where one could
easily be mistaken for the other.