Bar Bites: A Man of the Month Cookbook (Man of the Month 13)

Not that she'd ever presume to hire or fire a bartender. Her bailiwick was marketing. And ever since the Man of the Month campaign had reached its successful conclusion, she was feeling more than a little at loose ends.

The contest had wrapped in October, and Jenna and her team had rushed to get calendars printed, the pre-sold inventory shipped, and the open inventory stocked in the bar and other local businesses. They'd been simultaneously working on a cookbook filled with Tyree's amazing recipes, and now both Bar Bites and the Man of the Month calendar graced the retail shelves of many an Austin boutique.

But both projects had wrapped by mid-December. Then she'd been occupied with her first Christmas as a married woman--that reality still made her giddy-- and now here she was. The second day of January. A brand new year.

And she didn't have a single idea what to do with herself.

Sure, she could whip up some flyers to promote the bar. Maybe coordinate drink specials or arrange special events surrounding some of the live bands. But the Man of the Month contest had been her brainchild, and it had turned into a big deal. A citywide event. Something that folks talked about on social media and chatted about with their friends. The guys--winners and contestants--were recognized around the town. All in all, it had been a triumph.

And she had absolutely no idea how she was supposed to follow her own success.

"What's with you?" Amanda asked as they settled in at one of the two-tops near the bar. "You've gone from

perky to pensive. Something wrong? Or is it hormones? I know it's not Reece."

At the mention of his name, Jenna's mood lifted. "No," she agreed. "Not a thing wrong there. Right, peanut? Your daddy's pretty much perfect." She smiled down at her belly, and when she looked up, a minor miracle took place. Not only did Eric deliver her drink that very second, but Reece stepped out of the back hallway and entered the bar at the far end of the room.

He was yards and yards away from her, but it didn't matter. Even across the cavernous bar--even despite the happy hour crowd that filled the room and kept blocking him from her sight--even then, she could feel him. Could sense him.

The heat of him. The power. The strength...and the tenderness.

With his shaved head, shadowy beard, broad shoulders, and rock hard muscles, Reece Walker was the kind of man who never lacked for attention. Add in the intricate tats that covered his chest, back, and arms--today only visible emerging from the short sleeves of his T-shirt--and he radiated a dangerous sex appeal, like a bad boy biker on a mission to ravage a woman.

Her whole body tightened in response to that particular thought, and as she rubbed her hand over her belly, Technicolor memories of the reason she was in this particular state filled her mind, making her breasts ache and her sex throb with such an intense need that she squirmed on the chair, disguising the sudden, demanding sexual craving by reaching for another piece of candied bacon.

The pregnancy hormones were doing a number on her; she was certain of that. She was ridiculously horny all the time. A little fact that really hadn't bothered her husband one bit.

But this wasn't a hormone reaction. This was a Reece reaction. The man called to her without saying a word. Possessed her without using his hands. Captured her with only his eyes.

They'd started out as best friends, and thank God they still fit that definition. But they were so much more.

"Hey, Beautiful," he said, reaching for her. With one hand, he pulled her to her feet. The other he spread wide over her belly. "I missed you both."

Warmth and love spread through her, and she laughed lightly. "I've only been gone a few hours." She'd cut out that morning to go check on the various retailers stocking the calendar and to talk with the printer about a second print run since sales were so high.

"That's a few too long."

"You two have crossed the line from sappy to downright gooey," Amanda said, her lips twitching with amusement. "You know that, right?"

"I've seen you with Derek," Jenna countered. "I'd say you two are contenders for the title in the sappy and gooey department."

"Nothing wrong with sappy," Reece said. And before either Jenna or Amanda could answer, he pulled Jenna close. Her very pregnant belly pressed against his tight, firm body as his arm curled around her non-existent waist to hold her steady. And then, with a passion that made her knees go weak, his mouth claimed hers, hot and wild, and full of demand and promise.

"Wow," she said when he slowly drew back. "What was that for?"

"A preview," he said. "Come on, baby. I'm taking you home."

"You're being unfair, you know," Jenna complained as Reece maneuvered their shiny new-to-them Volvo into the driveway of Reece's father's home. She missed driving her 1972 El Camino that Reece had fixed up for her almost as much as she missed Blue, his restored Chevy truck. But about five minutes into her fourth trimester, Reece had dragged her to a car lot, insisting that they have a newer, safer car now that they had the baby to think about.

She'd burst into tears--damn hormones--and blubbered about how much she loved him for taking care of her and the baby.

As for the other cars... Well, she'd fit behind the wheel eventually.

Now, Reece parked the Volvo next to Blue, then turned to face her, his brow furrowed. "Unfair?"

"A kiss like that, an announcement that we're going home--honestly, Reece, I'm so on edge right now I'd straddle you in the driver's seat and fuck you silly, except for the fact that I can't fit behind the wheel."

"Christ, Jenna..." The heat in his voice was unmistakable, and it curled through her, soaking her panties and making her already aching breasts tighten with a wild, demanding need.