His odd question caught her off guard. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say after leaving Clay’s office. “Umm, no. Why?”
A hint of a teasing smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “Your skin, mostly your cheeks, looks a little flushed.”
Because she’d just been thinking about his prowess in the bedroom before her thoughts had veered off course. Suddenly feeling as though he’d read her mind somehow, that he knew exactly the kind of effect he had on her senses, she resisted the impulse to raise her palms to her flushed face.
She asked a more important question of her own instead. “How did it go in there?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” He shrugged nonchalantly, though she didn’t miss the quick flash of disappointment that passed through his eyes before he replaced it with a wry grin. “They’re a tough crowd. Mason especially.”
She’d known that the brothers would be wary, standoffish, even. And she couldn’t blame them considering they’d had no opportunity to process the fact that they had another sibling. “Just give them time, and I’m sure they’ll come around.”
He looked doubtful but didn’t comment as he withdrew his wallet, pulled out a twenty, and pushed it across the counter toward her.
She eyed the money in confusion. “What’s this for?”
“It’s for the Bushmills I had earlier.”
She quickly shook her head. “You don’t have to pay for your drink—”
“Yes, I do,” he countered adamantly. “I’m a paying customer just like anyone else in here. The last thing I want is to have my own brothers press charges against me for running out on my tab.”
He said the words with a light amount of humor, but the underlying message in his comment made her chest tighten . . . Jackson knew the three men back in the office didn’t trust him, nor had they welcomed him as family. He was still a stranger, and yeah, a paying customer.
Reluctantly, she picked up the cash, hating that she felt so torn between feeling compassion toward a man she’d just met and remaining loyal to the three brothers who were the closest thing she had to a family. She truly understood both sides of this situation and wished that the meeting had gone better for Jackson.
“Let me get your change,” she said softly.
“No need,” he replied before she could move toward the register. “Thanks for the conversation earlier. I enjoyed it.” His voice vibrated with sincerity, and he gave her a playful wink.
She smiled at him as a sensual warmth slid through her. “I hope I see you again.” And her reasons for that were partly selfish and had everything to do with him, personally, and the attraction that she had no business even thinking about, let alone acting upon.
“That all depends on those three men back in the office and whether or not they want me around.” He sounded resigned to the latter. “Have a good evening, Tara.”
“You, too, Jackson.” She watched him go, ignoring the odd pang of disappointment inside of her in favor of ogling him one last time before he was gone. With his broad shoulders, lean hips, and confident stride, the man’s backside was just as hot and mouthwatering as the rest of him.
Amanda walked up to the service area, her head turned toward Jackson’s retreat, too. “Damn, he is so fine. I want to strip him naked and lick him from head to toe.”
“Not if I do it first.” Tara’s eyes widened as she jerked her gaze to Amanda, shocked that she’d spoken her wicked thoughts out loud.
“Oh, my God, Tara,” the other woman chastised with a laugh. “Did those words really just come out of your mouth?”
“Maybe,” she murmured, then tried to distract the bar waitress. “What do you need?”
“I need an apple martini and a Sam’s, and you obviously need to get laid.” Amusement danced in Amanda’s eyes. “You’ve never asserted a claim on any guy who’s come into this bar, and you’re starting with Clay’s twin? I’m impressed.”
That same flush of heat that Jackson had called her on less than five minutes ago suffused her cheeks once more. “I’m not claiming anyone,” she insisted as she grabbed a chilled bottle of beer, popped the top, and set it on Amanda’s tray before starting in on the fruity cocktail.
“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone,” the other woman promised in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Just remember the ‘I licked it first, therefore it’s mine’ rule. You’d better do it before someone else does.”
This time, Tara laughed. “As much as I might want to lick him, it’s not going to happen.”
“Why the hell not?”
“For a number of reasons.” She poured the vodka and sour apple pucker into the metal shaker with bits of ice and shook the ingredients together until the alcohol was cold and slightly frothy. “For one, I have no idea if he’s available, and for another, I really don’t think I’m his type. Did you happen to notice that really nice suit he was wearing that probably cost a small fortune?” she asked sarcastically.
Amanda dropped a cherry into the apple martini before setting it next to the beer on her tray, then smirked at Tara. “I was too wrapped up in my own fantasy of getting him naked and licking him to notice what he was wearing. Stop getting caught up in the trivial things or you’ll never have any fun.”
Tara just rolled her eyes, but there was a more important detail to the equation . . . and that was the distinct possibility that she might not ever see Jackson again. There was no telling if he’d be back or not. The answer to that subject was in the hands of the three Kincaid brothers, and she suddenly wanted to know how they were dealing with the news that they had a sibling they hadn’t even known about.