Oh yeah. The chemistry was definitely bubbling. “Not on a night like tonight. You’ll just have to settle for one of the other women jonesing for your attention.”
“I’d prefer to wait until last call.” His gaze flared with challenge. “Because I am a betting man, and I’m always willing to take a chance on the favorite.”
3
Despite Jack’s professed determination, he wasn’t sure he planned on sticking it out until last call. As interesting as Miranda was, his mood had been dampened by the forensic accountant’s report.
The millions his father’s business partner had embezzled was clearly the main concern. But Jack had uncovered another insidious draw on the company’s resources. The supply costs on their current job, an office building on Nashville’s skyline, were way too high. It was possible that the cost of materials was inflated locally, but he doubted it.
A more troubling and realistic problem was the possibility of theft. It wasn’t uncommon on construction jobs, but Pinnacle took steps to curb the loss with on-site surveillance, RFID tracking systems, and security guards. Unfortunately, those didn’t seem to be curbing things here. Someone was either ordering excess supplies and using them on projects outside Pinnacle or selling them on the side. There was also the possibility of a money laundering scheme lurking somewhere in the supply orders.
The fact that the company’s expediter was Alex Fischer, the corrupt partner’s son, created an even darker level of concern. Tasked with both the flow of all building materials and the negotiation of prices for those materials, Alex held a great deal of power, both financially and managerially. An extroverted wheeler-dealer, Alex had proven himself perfect for the position. But in light of Bruce’s betrayal and the sky-high supply costs, Jack wondered if this apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
He sat back and rubbed his eyes. Clearing his head of the company turmoil, he allowed the rowdy combination of music, laughter, and celebration around him to filter in. The familiarity of it settled him a little. As a college student, he’d spent his summer days drafting for a local architect and his nights in this very bar.
He found Miranda spinning bottles and pouring drinks. Their gazes met in the mirror-lined wall holding liquor. She tossed him a sultry smile before returning to her work.
His waitress stopped by the table. “Can I get you anything, hun?”
She was pretty, blonde, and built. He had no doubt she raked in enough tips to rival a stripper and enough phone numbers to fill multiple little black books. But it was still Miranda who tugged at something inside him.
“Miranda’s phone number?” he asked with a smile.
The waitress laughed. “Good luck with that. She’s stubborn and rarely dates customers.”
“I guess I’ll have to settle for water, then. Can you tell me if she has a boyfriend?”
“She’s not the kind who wants anything tying her down,” she said as she moved to another table. “A free spirit for sure.”
Miranda was openly watching him now, as if interested in his conversation with his waitress. Jack couldn’t pin down the reason he was so infatuated with her. Yes, she was unique and beautiful and strong. She was also a wickedly entertaining vision behind the bar, whipping around bottles and trays. But…she wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.
This whole chemistry thing was annoyingly elusive. Jack was a math and physics man. He liked the known, the stable, the dependable, the conventional. Dating before sex. One relationship at a time. Marriage, then kids. But when Miranda looked at him like that, as if she was already thinking of what he would do to her in bed, all conservatism flew out the window.
Miranda’s attention returned to her work and reality seeped in for Jack. She lived in freaking Nashville. Not exactly around the corner from New York. And Jack couldn’t even make a relationship with a local woman work. Besides, she had guys hitting on her all night.
He’d almost convinced himself to snuff this ridiculous fantasy before it burned him from the inside out. Then the band played Luke Bryan’s “Country Girl.” The crowd urged Miranda and the other female bartender out from behind the bar and into a quick-stepping country swing. The customers created a circle to clap and stomp and cheer while the women twirled each other around with effortless moves right in the middle of the saloon floor.
This was clearly a thing. Regulars obviously knew they could coax the women into dancing if hounded enough. Either Miranda and her coworker were both excellent country dancers, or they’d practiced the show often enough to play out the high-energy moves effortlessly.
Of course, he could have been distracted from a misstep by the sheer mouthwatering way she moved. She was long and lean. Her jeans hugged slim hips. Her simple steel-blue tank exposed tanned, toned arms and sleek shoulders. Her dark hair had fallen out of the clip and dropped past her shoulders, swinging as she moved.
It all happened so fast, he hadn’t fully processed the sight before it was over. Way too soon.
Jack was now cemented to his chair. Any thoughts of leavi
ng evaporated. All the reasons to end this before it began, gone. Even the sliver of a chance to experience that vitality on a more intimate level put everything else in his life on the back burner. At least for tonight. He was definitely taking his chances—however slim they might be—on getting closer to her. Even he deserved a break. And Miranda already felt like a long drink of cool water on a steaming hot day.
Jack tucked all the business papers away long before last call and let himself indulge in a rare moment of escape, enjoying the simple pleasure of watching this woman who had so easily captivated him. By the time one of the male bartenders boomed “Last call,” Jack felt like he’d gotten to know a lot about her. And he liked what he’d learned.
The lights rose. The drunk, die-hard partiers made their way to the exits. And staff started the cleanup process, clearing tables and restocking supplies.
Miranda sauntered toward him, a smirk tipping her mouth, a rag swinging in one hand. She wiped down a few tables nearby. “You weren’t kidding. I thought you would have bailed a long time ago.”
“I don’t imagine many men bail on you.”
“You’d be wrong. I’ve had nothing but a lifetime of men bailing on me.”
There was a story there, and despite his aversion to baggage, he would be interested in hearing this tale. Somehow, he was sure it would be as unique as the woman.