Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy 1)

He opened his mouth to say he didn’t mind her being

there, then closed it before the words could come out. What the hell? How was it that in just one day he’d become attached to her and didn’t want her to leave? Jesus, he was so fucked.

“You did well tonight,” he said instead, indicating the money she’d made.

She gave him a smile, and there was no mistaking the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. “You sound surprised.”

“Maybe because I am,” he admitted with a shrug. “You picked things up pretty quickly for not having any experience.”

She tucked the smaller amount of money back into the pouch in her waitress apron, then moved the plate of food so that it was in front of her. “Just because I’m blonde doesn’t mean I’m ditzy,” she teased as she picked up a potato skin loaded with melted cheese, bacon, and sour cream. “I’ll have you know I graduated summa cum laude from Northwestern University with a degree in political science.”

He watched her polish off the appetizer in two hungry bites, appropriately impressed by her education. He knew she wasn’t bragging, just stating that she wasn’t a slouch. Not that he’d ever thought she was, nor had he doubted her competence. She was beautiful and a billionaire heiress, but in the short time he’d known her, he’d already come to the conclusion that she was also intelligent, not to mention a woman who prided herself on being independent—something she apparently hadn’t been allowed while living at home.

Curious, he asked, “So what have you used that fancy, illustrious degree for?”

She finished off a chicken finger, the lighthearted glow in her eyes dimming at his question. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “I attended a private university because that’s what had been laid out for me, and paid for, since I was child. I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I went with political science to challenge myself and because government and world events interest me. I thought about going to law school, but my parents nixed that idea. Allowing me to pursue any ambition might have hampered their plans for me to marry well. And soon.” She drew a deep breath. “In the end, the degree was all for show, and my parents were able to brag about the fact that I graduated at a prestigious university with the highest honors.”

“You wanted to go to law school?” he asked, surprised once again.

She shook her head. “In the end…no. I think I wanted to have something for me. But that wasn’t allowed. After all, what did I need a further degree for when I was expected to get married, be some man’s arm candy, and stay home and have babies?” Her voice dipped lower, a hint of disgust in her tone.

He raised a brow. “You don’t want to get married and have a family?”

“Of course I do,” she replied indignantly. “With a man who I fall in love with, not one who is hand-picked for me. But I want, and need, more out of my life than being married to a man for business reasons and to secure my father’s company.”

That, he could understand. And he respected her for being strong enough to stand by her convictions, which obviously meant defying her parents. “I get your need to be self-sufficient, but I’m sure you don’t want to be a waitress for the rest of your life.”

She took a drink from her water bottle, her eyes dancing with humor as she swallowed the cool liquid, then finally said, “You have to admit, it’s an interesting start to whatever comes next.”

He chuckled, appreciating her positive attitude. “If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?” He didn’t know why he asked the question, or why he even cared what she envisioned for her future, but everything about this woman intrigued him and he found himself invested despite all the warnings he’d given himself since the second they’d met.

“Well…even though my degree is in political science, I’ve since realized I have no interest in being involved in politics or being a lawyer or working in public relations.” Finished with the snack he’d made for her, she pushed the plate aside and crossed her arms over the surface of the table, her gaze meeting his almost shyly. “What I would love to do is be a pastry chef.”

He couldn’t have been more shocked and leaned forward in his seat. “Really?”

She nodded eagerly, clearly warming to the topic. “When I was growing up, I’d always sneak into the kitchen and help our housekeeper, Maggie, when she was making desserts,” she said with an impish smile. “She taught me all about baking cakes and pastries and pies, and I loved working with her. My mother just thought it was a phase I was going through, and since being with Maggie in the kitchen kept me busy and out of her way, she allowed me to spend time with the help.” She wrinkled her nose in an adorable fashion. “Two years ago, I went to culinary school to get certified as a pastry chef, but again, my parents didn’t take it seriously.”

“But you did go,” he said quietly.

She nodded, a glint of pride and defiance in her pretty eyes.

Without really thinking about the implications of his actions, he reached a hand across the table and slid it on top of one of hers, telling himself it was a gesture of silent support and encouragement. And not because he ached to touch her. “If it makes you happy, you should do it.”

She exhaled a sigh and turned her hand over beneath the weight of his, so that her fingers brushed against his sensitive palm, making that connection between them so much stronger…and seductive, letting him know they were both feeling the underlying desire arcing between them. And though they’d been fighting those emotions—or at least he was—with every passing minute, she was getting harder and harder to resist.

“I’ve seriously thought about it,” she revealed, and he realized she was talking about becoming a pastry chef and not the desire that was building by the minute. “But here I am, twenty-six years old with no real life or job experience as a pastry chef, or anything else, for that matter. I’m not sure any one-star restaurant would even give me a chance, never mind a five-star establishment.”

He heard the insecurities in her voice, and self-doubt wasn’t something he’d equate with the woman sitting in front of him. “You won’t know unless you try.” He didn’t want to see her give up on her dreams.

She possessed so many fascinating layers. So much emotional depth. And every time they really talked, he learned things about Samantha that changed his entire perspective of her, in a way that was dangerous to the safe life he’d carved out for himself until now.

Realizing how intimate touching her hand had become, he pulled his arm back to his side of the table.

She dipped her head self-consciously and abruptly changed the subject. “What about you? How did you come to own a bar?”

He reclined in his chair, thinking for a moment before answering. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to reveal about his disturbing and hellish childhood and the ensuing teenage years, so he decided to go with the abbreviated, uncomplicated version.

“Jerry, the guy who originally owned this bar, hired me when I was sixteen and in desperate need of a job.” Because he’d had two younger brothers to feed, clothe, and make sure they had a roof over their heads. “I started out sweeping the floors, emptying the trash, and doing general cleanup. I worked my ass off, and he became a father figure to me, since I didn’t have one. The harder I worked, the more he taught me about the bar and business, and the more responsibilities he gave me. When I turned twenty-one, he put me behind the bar and trained me to be a bartender and how to make drinks. He was kind and caring and selfless when it came to helping other people.”