Whats Your Pleasure (2 page)

Chapter Two

Green Eyed Blonde Girl

1 part melon liqueur

1 part banana liqueur

1 part Irish Cream

Carefully layer in a shot glass.

Tossing her backpack onto the bed, Joe shook her head slightly as a cloud of dust sparkled in the sunlight. What had she gotten herself into this time? Still, with a little cleaning and airing out, the room would have potential. A typical shotgun style design, the front door opened into the living room which led into the kitchen which led into the bedroom. Just off from the kitchen was the bathroom, a tiny little room sporting only a shower, toilet and sink. As she opened the windows to let the cool breeze blow away the stagnant air, she wondered briefly if it also could blow a little freshness into her life.

You’ve made a start, girl,
she said to herself. She’d landed a job and a place to stay, at least for the time being, all within twenty-four hours of arriving in town. Not bad.

And speaking of not bad, her new boss would certainly fall into that category. Not only was he ‘not bad’, he was downright hot!
Short brown hair that was probably as soft as silk, a matching moustache, bright blue eyes and a tight body.
If Joe were in the market for a man, she’d definitely want to put him in her basket!
Sweet, too.
She giggled a bit as she remembered how his eyes had practically popped out of his head when she was knocking on the door.

Slowly, her grin dropped, and she sat on the bed.
What the hell am I thinking?
She needed a man like she needed a hole in her head. The last guy she’d met had practically torn the door off the hinges trying to get away from her after he’d seen her naked.

Dave had been a friend of her brother Bill, and the two had met at her family’s annual Memorial Day bar-b-
que
. They’d hit it off pretty well and started dating. After a few platonic evenings out, nature had taken its course and, somewhere around the fourth date or so, the heavy necking had turned into serious petting.

Joe flopped back onto the bed, unable to stop the flood of painful memories.

“I want you,” Dave had said.

“So what’s stopping you?” she’d breathed.

That was all the encouragement he’d needed. He grasped her tightly to his hard body and bent her head back in a devastating kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him into her. It had been so long since a man had held her like this. She wanted to drown in his embrace. His tongue, at first gently then with growing confidence, explored her mouth. His hands on her legs pushed her skirt up, tugged at her silk panties. She moaned. Without allowing her mouth to leave his, she began to unbutton his shirt. Desperate, she needed to touch his skin, to feel his flesh beneath her hands. Awkward as teenagers, they had clawed and pulled at each other’s clothing until they were both naked. Not bothering to go into the bedroom, Joe pushed him down onto her couch. He smiled up at her.

“Ride me, Baby,” he demanded.

“Oh, yes,” she agreed.

And ride him she did. She mounted him and began a slow dance. She could see the fire in his eyes as he watched her.

“Play with your nipples,” he ordered.

Not bothering to answer, Joe ran her hands up her own tight stomach until her breasts filled them. She pinched her nipples slightly, encouraging them to erectness. Heat built deep within her, and she began to tremble.

“That’s it, Baby. Keep it up. Come for me.”

Her body blazed as waves of passion crashed over her. He reached up, grasped her tightly to his body, his hands on her hips as he forced her to fuck him deeply and rhythmically. Before she had finished, he flipped her over, his cock still buried within her. He pounded into her, thrust after thrust. She screamed when he tweaked her nipples, twisting them until the pain merged into pleasure. Suddenly, he collapsed on top of her, crushing her into his body. He growled his release into her neck, his body convulsing with pleasure.

For a long while, they lay next to each other, trying to catch their breath.

“I need to use the bathroom,” he reluctantly admitted.

She rolled over to her side and reached for the lamp next to her bed. Without thinking, she turned the switch, and soft light filled the room.

“Holy Shit!
What the hell is that?” he demanded, his voice horrified.

Joe shuddered, trying to shake off the sick sensation that flooded over her from the memory. Hadn’t hat incident taught her that the best thing for her was to keep people at a distance and concentrate on living her life and paying her debts? Blinking back tears and glancing at her watch, she decided she had just enough time for a nap before a quick shower and then down to work.

* * * *

Vincent glanced at his watch yet again.
Where is she?
he
wondered for what seemed like the hundredth time. Just when he had decided to go upstairs and bang on her door, she calmly walked into the bar.

“I was starting to get worried about you,” he said, noting with approval that she dressed sexy, yet respectably, in a pair of ass hugging Levi’s, sneakers and a black, V-necked T-shirt which allowed just a peek of cleavage. She had added a touch of make-up to her green eyes and spiked her short, blonde hair.

“Don’t worry yet, Mr. Milo. Like I said, I know my way around a bar, so all you have to do is show me your specials and give me a quickie layout of the place,” she calmly assured him.

“Right,” Vincent said. “First things first, though. Please, my name is Vincent—not Mr. Milo. Don’t call me by my dad’s name, Josephine.”

Josephine laughed. “All right, then. I won’t call you by your dad’s name if you don’t call me by my grandmother’s.”

“Pardon?”

“Josephine was my grandmother. She was a lovely woman with a quick wit and quicker backhand. I loved her and admired her above all other women but I’m not her. Everyone calls me Joe.”

“Joe. I like that.” He grinned.
Bet you’re a lot like her,
he silently added.

“Good. Now, why don’t you show me the ropes?” she said.

For the next thirty minutes, Vincent did just that. He showed Joe the recipe list for the Hot Shot Specials and how to work the dishwasher and the cash register. She was a quick study, he noted. Didn’t say much, but kept an attentive gaze on him at all times. When he asked her to repeat what he had said, she did so without a fault. Finally, Vincent felt confident she could handle her first night.

“If you get swamped, I’ll be around. I’m always around when there’s a female bartender,” he assured her.

“And why is that?” she asked.

“Safety.”

Joe frowned. “You have much trouble around here?”

“No, but I want to keep it that way. Oh, around 11:30 or so a guy named Nathan will be showing up. He’s the unofficial bouncer and my official best friend,” Vincent said.

“Sounds good,” she replied.

“I’ll go flip the sign to open. Good luck.” He reached over to pat her shoulder.

Without warning, Joe jerked away, her eyes wide and frightened.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t—” he began.

“No,” she interrupted.
“My fault.
I just don’t like people to touch me unless I’m expecting it.” She quickly turned away, picked up a bar towel and began to wipe down the brass railing.

“I see that,” Vincent said quietly. The girl had been hurt, he was sure of that. How and by whom, he didn’t know, but he intended to find out. Something about her roused his protective nature.

As a few people began to straggle in, Vincent sat at a corner table, supposedly concentrating on paperwork and nursing a beer. In truth, he watched Joe joke with the customers. One man—Vincent thought of him as Brown Suit Guy—was a regular, but had never stayed past one beer. Tonight, though, Joe leaned across the bar and offered him a second. The guy had been coming in here for probably six months, had never smiled or, to Vincent’s knowledge, spoken to anyone. Vincent had assumed that Brown Suit Guy was stopping by for a quick beer before going home to his nagging wife and whiny kids. But now, to his amazement, Brown Suit Guy was laughing and nodded at something Joe had just said. Curious, Vincent
meandered over to the customer’s side of the bar.

“So, Joe, how’s it going?” he asked.

“Just fine, Vincent. I was just telling Paul about a time back home when my brothers were sledding down a hillside and ended up in the neighbour’s yard.”

“Doghouse, more specifically!”
Paul added with a big roaring laugh. “I would have loved to have seen that.”

Joe gave Paul a wide smile.
“Yeah.
It was great. Being the youngest, I loved nothing better than watching the two of them screw up.”

Vincent grinned as well and offered his hand to Brown Suit—ah, Paul. “Hi. I’m Vincent, owner of
Hot Shots
. You’ve been coming here for a while—just wanted to let you know I appreciate it.”

“Yep,” the man responded, shaking hands.
“Name’s Paul
Maddin
.
Live on the other side of the river but work just down the road. Traffic’s a bitch, so I like to stop by for a bit, let it thin out some. “

“Glad to have you. If you need anything, just let me or Joe know,” Vincent answered, giving Joe a wink.

“Now that you’ve got a bartender with some brains instead of that twit who used to work here, I might bring some of my buddies from work, hang out a bit more. Hell, I bet my
wife’d
even like
chattin
’ with Joe. Might be a nice night out this Friday for her,” he answered then turned back to Joe. “So, how did those two get out of the doghouse?”

Joe grinned and continued her story. “Well, being the good sister, naturally I stood there and laughed. I tell
ya
, I’ll never forget seeing those four legs
stickin
’ out of that doghouse.”

Pleased, Vincent wandered away. Hell, she’d been employed less than two hours and already was bringing in more customers. As the night wore on, Vincent became even more pleased. Customers were lined up against the bar, and two tables were full. Laughter and stories filled the air as people relaxed and enjoyed the evening.

Around 10:30, Joe got so busy that Vincent stepped behind the bar to help. With just eye contact and a head nod, Joe indicated she appreciated the help. Again, without needing to speak, Joe worked the door end of the bar while Vincent took the end closest to the lavatories. Together, they saw to it that the customer had whatever he or she wanted within minutes.

“Vincent, incoming!” she shouted.

Vincent’s hands immediately came up, and he deftly caught the bottle of olives Joe just shot at him.

Grinning, he shouted back, “Little more warning, next time.”

“Why?” a big burly guy on a stool asked. “You got it, didn’t
ya
?”

Vincent laughed. “True, but I’m getting a little old. Reflexes are slowing down.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” said the blonde babe perched next to the burly guy. To highlight her point, she blew a kiss in Vincent’s direction. Joe and the burly guy burst out laughing, while the blonde looked at Vincent like she hadn’t eaten in three days and he was a prime rib dinner.

“Oh my God!
You should see the expression on your face, Vincent!”
Joe high-fived the blonde, who now appeared to be a picture of innocence.

Vincent grinned again and, rather than take on two scary women, refilled the olive compartment.

* * * *

Joe enjoyed the busy pace. But as the late evening progressed to the early hours of the morning, the crowd thinned. By 12:30 a.m. or so,
only two or three people flanked the bar.

“Hey!” yelled a strong voice from the doorway.

“Hey!” Vincent hollered in return. “Nathan, let me introduce you to Joe, the new bartender.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Joe responded, wiping her hand on a towel before offering it to the olive skinned, well-built giant. Nathan sported a sleek moustache and shaved head. Still, his brown, luminous eyes held secrets that any hot-blooded woman would love to discover.

“Same,” he answered, his large hand completely engulfing her delicate fingers. “You look smarter than the last few bar wenches.”

Vincent grinned. “He calls all my bartenders ‘wenches’. Think nothing of it,” he assured Joe. “But watch it, Nathan. The last thing I need is for you to offend her on her first night and have her run off.”

“Hey, I’ve been called a lot worse by a lot better,” she quipped.

Nathan threw back his head and roared.

“Vince, I like this one. She’s a keeper.”