And then she kissed him. Hard and fast, as if she didn't want to give herself a chance to change her mind. Which was fine with him. She'd made the first move, and Mac intended to make sure she didn't regret it. Because with her soft mouth devouring his and her hands now pulling at his shirt and trailing up his chest, he definitely wanted more.
She didn't give him a chance. Those fingers curled into fists and she shoved backward, separating them before he could act on impulse and take what he wanted. What she'd seemed to offer just seconds before.
Wide eyes, darkened by passion and a hint of insecurity, met his. "I don't know what I was thinking, grabbing you like that."
Her uncertainty touched him. "I don't know what you were thinking, either, but did you hear me complaining?"
A slight smile took hold of her lips. "You mean you liked it?" she asked.
Reaching out, he grasped her forearm, gently pressing his fingers into her flesh. "You mean you couldn't tell? My technique must be rusty." He let his thumb run circles over her skim
He took one step toward her, and when she didn't back away, he locked them together once again. She tipped her head backward to meet his gaze.
"You can trust me, sweetheart."
"I know." Her wide smile reassured him, and he kissed her without holding back. She responded. Her tongue filled his mouth, while her soft sighs and little moans drove him mad. Apparently she'd needed reassurance, and having gotten it, she relaxed in his arms.
Her flimsy shirt already hung off one bare shoulder. Although not blatantly sexy, this soft, frilly thing aroused him beyond belief. Acting on impulse, he grabbed both the tank top strap along with the ruffled edge of the shirt and pulled both down far enough to let him taste one of her darkened nipples. Her moan of delight was unrestrained as she arched her back in wanton response, giving him complete access.
Mac had never embarrassed himself in front of a woman, but he damn near did so now. Another few seconds and he wouldn't give a damn that a bar full of people waited outside that door. He'd scatter their clothes on the floor and bury himself inside her willing warmth. He needed to stop but wasn't ready to let her go.
He had no choice. Her admitted hesitancy prevented him from going further. With more difficulty than he would have imagined, he raised his head. "Still think I'm harmless?" he asked, his breathing not at all steady.
"No, but you do taste sweet." An embarrassed smile played over her lips. "I wasn't sure how to approach you… but I'm glad I did."
He'd been right. For all her attempts at seduction, she was very new at this kind of game. Which made him wonder what other secrets she kept. She'd already admitted to being a temporary runaway. And given the inexperience he sensed and the innocence she projected, he had to wonder why the urgency to come on to him at all? Every unanswered question made her all the more fascinating.
He met her gaze. Her violet eyes were still glazed with a combination of passion and disbelief. Mac understood. He'd never have believed they'd make such an explosive combination, either. He hadn't thought this bundle of contradictions had it in her. He'd sensed her hesitancy and figured she'd bail out. Instead, she'd come to him. To Mac, the bartender.
If his instincts were on, this hot, blazing desire that flared between them was just as new to her as it was to… No. No. He shook his head. Desire wasn't new to him. He'd wanted before. He'd just never come so close so fast.
He had the unnerving sense that one night with Samantha wouldn't be enough to douse this high-charged inferno that blazed out of control. Worse, he wasn't sure he wanted it to be. But until he understood what she was running from and why, he couldn't take advantage… no matter how badly he wanted to.
With deliberate slowness, he picked her up and lowered her to the ground, making sure their bodies touched the entire time. Making sure she felt the hard ridge of his arousal. Her sharp inhale told him she had.
She'd pulled her still-damp hair into a braid that touched her shoulder. He toyed with the end. "It's wet."
"I didn't want to take time to dry it."
He played with her hair, running the strands down her cheek and along her neck, then following the path with his tongue. He looked up and met her wide-eyed gaze. "Where are you planning on staying?" he asked.
She cleared her throat. "Wherever I'm welcome."
She was welcome here. The thought shocked him, but he realized he meant it. Keeping her around would give him time to get to know this woman, something he wanted, nearly as much as he desired her.
He bent his head. "The bed upstairs is a double," he whispered in her ear.
Mac told himself it made sense. She needed a place to stay. He needed to keep her around. As difficult as it would be, he could keep a respectable physical distance between them. She might think she wanted more, but her eyes mirrored her soul, and she was still unsure. Not of the sexual chemistry, because they'd steamed up this stockroom in no time at all, of something deeper. Emotionally, she wasn't ready for more.
When the stakes were high, and the prize worth winning, Mac had an abundance of patience. "Well?" he asked her.
"I…" He bit on her earlobe and her shudder went straight through him. "I check in next Thursday morning," she managed to say. "My conference begins at eight on Friday."
Loud banging on the door interrupted them before things got out of control. "I may be old, but my memory's fine. It doesn't take that long," Zee yelled. "You got thirsty people out here."
Her face flushed scarlet, and Mac cupped her cheek in his palms. "He's wrong."
"He is?" Her voice was filled with breathless anticipation.
Mac nodded. "It'll take the whole week. I'll make sure of it," he said in a voice he barely recognized.
Then he turned and walked out, leaving her to pull herself together while he hoped nobody else noticed how long he'd been gone. Or that he'd forgotten the beer. Or that he wanted Samantha so badly he could hardly walk. This woman, her honesty and vulnerability, made him believe in a future for the first time in years. Combine that with a sexual chemistry fierce enough to set his soul on fire, and Mac knew exactly why he'd invited her to stay for the duration.
Never before had a bartending favor held so much promise. As Mac got back to work, he wondered if anyone would notice if he skipped last call.
3
Sam wiped down the table and pocketed the tip left beneath the glass. As quickly as she'd taken over Theresa's job, she'd fallen into a steady rhythm. She wasn't half bad at cocktail waitressing. The overall pace here was slower than back home, which made for an easier transition. She enjoyed the customers, and they seemed to like talking with her. An easterner provided them with a source of amusement for the evening, and their slight accents intrigued her.
"Hey, honey. Another one in the corner."
Sam rolled her eyes. She had no idea where Zee got his endless supply of energy. Hers was dwindling fast. She ducked behind the bar in search of Mac's secret supply of Zee's liquor.
"You holding up okay?"
Her heart tripped in reaction to the husky voice. Good thing her feet didn't do the same or she'd lose her night's take paying for the damage. She turned toward Mac. "I'm fine."
"You had a rough walk over here." His gaze lingered on her canvas sneakers. His caring amazed her. The man needed a cocktail waitress or he'd have had to close down earlier, yet he'd sent Theresa home, and now here he was concerned about a few cuts and bruises on her feet-the feet of a woman he'd just met.
He had a soft spot beneath the rougher exterior. Sam liked that about him. Too much, considering.
"Tell the boys this is last call," he said.
She nearly kissed him in relief, but with a bar full of people, and their last session still fresh in her mind, she pushed the idea aside. As she went to serve her last drinks and clean up the increasingly empty tables, her nerves prickled with the awareness of being watched. The sensation only heightened as the night wore on, until just thinking about Mac sent her senses into heated overload.