“Rex and Bill don’t get on. My father wanted this location, it’s the one bit of land we don’t own. Bill refused to sell. And it’s the hottest restaurant and bar in town.” He sighed.
“So you’re working for the competition for the night?”
“No,” he answered in a low voice. “I’m working for you.”
Savannah looked up at him. Big mistake. His eyes were very blue, very serious. And so easy to get lost in.
“Why would you want to do that?” she asked.
“I want—” He broke off. Then breathed. “Because.”
“I don’t need you to rescue me.” She tried to step away from him, but he tightened his arms.
“I know. And you won’t let me do that anyway. I’m just keeping you company.”
No, there was more to it that that. “Why? Because you’re hot for it?”
His mouth twisted wryly. “Because I don’t trust you.”
Truth at last. She stiffened. “Let me go, there are people arriving.”
Slowly, too slowly, he released her.
Savannah turned away, quickly licking her dry lips. “It gets very busy, you sure you can keep up?”
“I think I can hold my own.”
Ten minutes later the bar was packed out with beautiful, rich young things and Savannah was working it.
“You’re good.” he said as she poured the latest mix perfectly to the salt-edged rim of the glass.
“I’ve had plenty of experience.” She watched him pop the cork of a bottle of eye-wateringly expensive champagne—without spilling a precious drop. “Seems you have too.”
“Don’t we make a good team?” He sent her a meaningful look and then walked past—almost brushing against her—to pour the glasses.
The awful thing was it felt good to have him so near, shooting looks down the bar that made her toes curl in her boots.
The only thing she could do was glare back and then work harder, faster. The ultimate in distraction was in besting him behind the bar.
“So ruthlessly efficient,” he muttered, his voice laden with innuendo, as she passed him.
She didn’t lower herself to reply, instead she focused on mixing, on throwing cocktails, juggling bottles. It was all about the show. And yes, ruthless efficiency. She was good at her job. She didn’t deserve to have lost her own damn bar. And one day, she’d get it back.
“Are you pouring the drinks tonight?”
Savannah glanced over at the oh-so-sultry purr. A gorgeous redhead was drinking Connor in with her eyes. Could she get her cleavage any further over the bar?
“Helping out a friend.” Connor answered with a smile as he set the redhead’s drink in front of her.
“Anything else I can get for you?” he asked.
“Plenty.”
Yeah. It was obvious what else the redhead wanted. Savannah looked down the length of the bar. Seemed word was out about the new bartender because it was the pretty girls lining up.
“What can I get you?” Savannah stalked to the other end of the bar.
“Oh no,” the girl giggled. “I’ll wait to be served by him.”
Savannah gritted her teeth and turned to the next customer. A male. Good. He grinned at her and her ego lifted.
“Who’s that new bartender?” he asked.
“Connor Hughes.” Savannah clipped.
“No.” The brunette next to the guy gasped. “The Connor Hughes?”
“Apparently so,” Savannah tried to smile.
“That can’t be Connor Hughes. No one hardly ever sees Connor Hughes, there’s no way he’d be serving people behind a bar.” The guy said.
“You don’t think?” Savannah asked.
“I know. He never leaves his office. Never mixes. Always works.” The guy said frowning at Connor.
“Well now he’s working here and I need an introduction.” The brunette interrupted and leaned over the bar towards Savannah. “What does he drink? What does he like to drink?”
“I’m not sure,” Savannah answered between gritted teeth. “But what can I get you to drink?”
“Oh nothing. I’ll wait for him to serve me.”
Right. She’d be waiting a long while then, because the crowd down Connor’s end of the bar was now five deep.
And he, damn him, was handling it. Not with any great speed or with her bottle juggling flashiness. But handling it with cool, measured patience.
“I’ll take a beer, please, Ma’am.” Another guy stepped in with his order.
Savannah sent him a dismissive glance. “Of course.”
Had Connor really worked all the jobs at his resort? Is that why he hardly ever left the Lodge? Didn’t he party with the guests?
She pulled the beer from the fridge and straightened. But damn, she was confused. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with her free hand.
When she looked up, ready to get on with it, Connor had materialized right in front of her.
“What are you doing?” She snapped at him after three seconds of just standing there. “I have that guy’s beer. Move.”
He didn’t move. He didn’t stop frowning. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
He wanted to talk transportation plans now? “Not necessary. Luca is.”
Connor carefully put the bottle he was holding onto the bar.
“Connor?”
He took the beer bottle she was holding and placed that on the bar alongside his.
“There are customers waiting,” she hissed. Millions of beautiful, nubile, customers all of whom apparently wanted him.
“I don’t give a damn. You’re not going home with Luca.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m getting a lift with him.”
“You’re not getting in his car,” he leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I know what you like to do in cars late at night with a man.”
Only the one man.
She turned her head to whisper back, so the piles of customers waiting couldn’t hear. “I can do what I want, with who ever I want, where ever I want.”
“And what is it you want?” His face loomed close.
Her eyes met his. Stormy. Angry. Hot.
“Another ride?” he asked.
And before she could blink, he snaked an arm around her waist and quickstepped her through to the kitchen out the back.
Before she could think. He kissed her.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. And then she couldn’t think at all.
His arms were around her, pulling her into his delicious heat and strength. So solid, determined. And his mouth?
Wicked.
He stroked her, the slide of his tongue touched her deep, sparking the response so low in her belly, the wisp of air that was all that was needed to re-ignite her out-of-control desire for him.
She moaned. Memory was nothing on reality.
Who knew only a kiss could send such feels-freaking-good juice along her veins? That it could be so addictive? That it could be so not enough?
Urgency rose. She needed more. Closer. Hotter. Wet.
She wanted.
Her hips circled and his hand firmly grabbed her butt, pushing her hard against him to stop her instinctive writhing. But she tried anyway, rocking in the tiniest movements against him, her rhythm matching the sweeping plunges of his tongue. She heard the thrumming drum beat of her pulse in her ears. Fast and excited and pushing her for more.
Faster. More. Faster. More.
Faster.
But suddenly he framed her face with both her hands, holding her still as he broke the kiss—ripping free.
He looked into her eyes. They both knew he’d held her still so he could end the kiss.
That’s when she realized it wasn’t her pulse drumming in her ears, but the beat from the bar music and the bubbling noise of a hundred people out to have a really good time.
Hell, some of them had probably seen then disappear. And she’d lost herself—almost all control.
“What was that?” She jerked awa
y from him, then recovered her self-possession enough to plant her boots wide and glare at him.
“It’s called kissing. Feels good. You should do it more often.” He answered easily, grinning like it was no big deal.
No doubt it wasn’t for him. But for her?
“Not at work.” She snapped. “That was—”
“A deliberate show of intent.” He looked so smug.
“Not intent,” she argued. “That was all about possession. I’m not yours to possess.”
“Not anyone else’s either,” he said darkly. Then stepped back up to her. “Maybe I’m yours.” His lips brushed her ear as he whispered. “Any time. Any place. Your call.”
Temptation.
But it wasn’t true. He was no submissive. This was just his way of trying to get what he wanted. This was pure play.
“Uh, guys,” Luca appeared behind Connor, a laughing look on his face. “Chill. You’re not the entertainment. You’re supposed to be pouring the drinks.”