On the Plus Side

by Alison Bliss

  His gaze traveled down to her crossed legs, and he imagined those smooth, sexy thighs gripping his hips as he shoved into her. He swallowed hard. Damn, it would be one long-ass night with a whole lot of pleasure though.

  As Brett approached, he scowled and handed Valerie a half-full green apple martini. “Here, take this fucking drink. Do you know how hard it is to walk through a packed bar with one of those things?” He pulled his shirt away from his body, showing them a wet spot that had darkened the front. “I spilled it on myself twice, and that fruity shit is sticky.”

  “I’ve got a box of T-shirts with the bar’s logo on them in the back,” Logan told him. “I’ll get you one, and you can change into it.”

  “Thanks, man. But only if you let me pay for the shirt.”

  Logan grimaced. As if he wasn’t already feeling guilty enough about accidentally flirting with the man’s sister, Brett had just unknowingly twisted the knife. “Damn it, Brett. You don’t have to pay for the fucking—”

  “Don’t go there with me, Logan. I said I’m paying for it.” Brett straightened his posture, as if to show how firm he stood on the idea. “If you have a problem with that, then I’ll just go home and change. Up to you.”

  Logan sighed. “Fine, get your shirt from Paul. He’s the head bartender. He can ring you up and grab one from the storeroom.”

  As he watched Brett head out in search of Paul, Logan shook his head. Stubborn asshole. Then he grinned because the big, lovable jerk knew the dire situation Logan was in and was obviously damned determined to help in any way he could.

  Logan needed money. And he needed it now.

  “Want to explain what that was all about?” Valerie asked.

  The sound of her voice alone had Logan furrowing his brow. He needed to get away from her before he did something stupid. “Nothing. It’s just a damn T-shirt.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the shirt. I was talking about…the way you were looking at me before my brother walked up.”

  His eyes drifted over her face, and his throat tightened, but he said nothing.

  Valerie smiled, as if the thought of silencing him had shifted the winds in her direction for a change. She slinked over to him with a feline grace that disturbed the air around him and held a man’s attention.

  “What’s the matter, Logan?” Her sharp eyes focused on him with an intensity that heated his blood and made his heart hammer against his rib cage. “Cat got your tongue?” The words hissed past her parted lips and sizzled in his ears.

  He’d love nothing more than to stroke Valerie’s…ego and see how many times he could make her purr. But he didn’t have time for games. Especially not with her of all people. She was off-limits. A distraction. One he didn’t need or want in his life.

  Logan took a step back. “I’ve got to get back to work. Why don’t you go find your friends and let one of them babysit your ass for a while?” Then he turned and stormed away.

  He hadn’t meant to be so harsh and imagined her staring after him in confusion, but he refused to look back. One minute, he’d been flirting with her. Then the next, he’d come to his senses and snapped at her…like it was her fault. God, I’m a fucking idiot.

  Maybe it was better this way. Safer even.

  Logan remembered all the times she’d flaunted herself under his nose, teasing and taunting him. And memory served him well. She’d damn near tortured him back then, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. He’d just do what he had done years before—avoid her…even if it was difficult to do since the girl was impossible to ignore.

  He wasn’t going to look at her, think about her, or imagine what she looked like naked. Been there, done that. And all it had ever done was get him into trouble. He knew better than to get anywhere near Valerie, and he was washing his hands of her. For good this time.

  Dismissing all thoughts of her from his mind, Logan crossed the room and searched for Brett. He found him standing at the main bar, waiting to get Paul’s attention. Along with about twenty other people crowded around the bar with money in hand.

  Logan sighed. He’d been afraid of that.

  Grand opening night was the worst time to be understaffed, but it couldn’t be helped. Logan had hired the only three bartenders he could find on short notice—Paul, Derek, and James.

  Paul and James both seemed to know their way around a bar, working fast and efficiently, but Derek was younger and didn’t have the same level of experience as the other two. At least his pours were accurate and the cocktails were well made.

  Though some of the customers were moving away from Derek’s section to order their drinks from a waitress or traipsing over to the main bar to order for themselves, there wasn’t much Logan could do. If he hadn’t been forced into opening the bar sooner than he’d expected, he would’ve had time to find another qualified bartender or two. Lesson learned, for sure.

  Logan stopped beside Brett and caught him scoping out a brunette wearing a tube top at least two sizes too small for her ample breasts. “Hey, Romeo, put your tongue back into your mouth before you step on it.”

  Brett grinned. “I think I just died and went to heaven.”

  Chuckling, Logan said, “Yeah? Well, then where do you want me to bury your body?”

  “In her cleavage.”

  Logan shook his head at his buddy. Some men acted like such fools when it came to women. All they thought about was sex. Thank God he wasn’t perverse like that.

  Brett watched the woman join a group of her friends and then smirked. “So where do you want to be buried?”

  Logan sighed. Balls deep in your sister.

  Chapter Two

  Valerie was at a loss for words. Not that it really mattered since Logan hadn’t stuck around to hear any of them anyway. The jerk.

  She hadn’t predicted the sudden dismissal, nor had she expected him to storm off like he couldn’t bear to look at her for another second. Did he really loathe her that much? And if so, what the hell had she done to deserve it?

  Letting out a frustrated breath, she sank onto her stool. For a moment, she could have sworn she’d seen interest blazing in those dark brown eyes of his. But it was like he’d flipped a switch and then hightailed it out of there without looking back even once. And he’d been angry, as if he resented Brett for leaving him behind to “babysit” her.

  God, she hated when they called it that.

  Unlike Max, Valerie didn’t need anyone to keep her out of trouble. Not Brett. And certainly not Logan. Besides, how could she get into any mischief when she only had eyes for one guy in the room and he wouldn’t give her the time of day?

  Valerie didn’t get it. She was putting out plenty of sexually charged signals, but for some odd reason, Logan didn’t seem to be picking up on them. Almost as if she’d flown under his radar completely undetected. God, she must be losing her touch or something.

  No. That couldn’t be it. She’d never before had a problem pinging other guys’…instruments. Maybe Logan just had a defective transmitter. But if that were true, what was with the heated look he’d given her? Had she misunderstood?

  She didn’t think so, but Logan had always been impossible to figure out. It wasn’t like this was the first time she’d noticed an underlying male awareness to her sexuality while in his presence. Or was it possible that she had seen only what she’d wanted to see?

  Valerie sighed.

  Damn it. She’d worn this slinky dress for one reason: to knock his socks off…or his pants, whichever came first. Yet her plan to dangle herself in front of him, to prove once and for all that Logan Mathis wouldn’t be able to resist her, hadn’t worked at all. Not only had he resisted her, he’d flicked her aside like an unwelcomed ant at a picnic.

  Was the man blind or what?

  She thought she looked pretty damn good. No, actually she looked great. So what the hell was his problem? She knew damn well she’d caught his gaze sliding down the length of her dress more than once tonight. But for some reason, he�
�d seemed almost irritated that she had worn something so sexy and low-cut, as if—

  Oh God!

  It had been the same reaction her brother had had when he’d picked her up tonight and got a load of what she was wearing. Was that it? Was Logan thinking of her as some sort of adopted kid sister? Eww. Gross. Valerie couldn’t—and didn’t want to—look at Logan like a sibling. And she hoped like hell he wasn’t thinking of her in those terms either.

  But it would explain why he continued to treat her like a child though. Older brothers were notorious for that. Oh yuck! Did I just refer to Logan as my brother? Kill me now.

  Aggravation percolated inside her, but she straightened her shoulders and held her head high. Whatever. If Logan wasn’t interested in her, then there was nothing she could do about it. It was fine. Better than fine, actually. It was his loss. There were plenty of other men who were willing to date a fun, down-to-earth girl like her. She didn’t need a guy like Logan to boost her ego, thank you very much. Her ego didn’t have a damn thing wrong with it.

  In fact, she wasn’t going to waste another minute of her time on a guy who patted her on the head and told her to run along and play like a good girl. If he was stupid enough to let her get away, then so be it. Good riddance.

  Annoyed with the whole situation, Valerie rose and headed out to find her friends. She weaved through the packed room, squeezing through tight spaces and ducking under elbows, until she neared the main bar on the opposite side of the room where the wooden counter ran almost the length of the entire wall. The two bartenders were taking order after order and working fast to fill them.

  She didn’t see her group of friends anywhere, but she spotted Logan and Brett parked at the end of the bar. Ah, hell no. The last thing she wanted was to chance another run-in with either of them so she veered a quick right and circled behind a wall of men who unknowingly blocked her from view.

  When she came out on the other side of the entourage of men, she stood about ten seats away from her original position at the bar. Valerie glanced around. Where the hell were Leah, Sam, and Max? She’d only been looking for them for a few minutes, but she was already tired of searching in the cramped room. The bar was jam-packed, the music was too loud, and the more the patrons drank, the rowdier they seemed to get.

  Maybe she should just ask Brett to take her home.

  Of course, that would mean facing Logan again. Valerie’s gaze landed back on her brother, who was now sitting alone. Puzzled, she glanced around his vicinity until she found Logan behind the bar talking to a middle-aged bartender with a bald head, beady eyes, and tattooed sleeves.

  She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t take long to figure out that Logan was talking to Paul, the head bartender. Especially after Logan gestured to the man’s black T-shirt with Bottoms Up’s logo emblazoned on the front, said something in his ear, and then pointed at Brett, who held up a twenty-dollar bill.

  Paul nodded, picked up a set of keys off the back counter, and motioned for Brett to follow him through a set of swinging doors that read EMPLOYEES ONLY. Logan started to trail after them but ended up getting sidetracked by the other bartender—a scrawny, older gentleman wearing a black leather vest and sporting a goatee—who was beating the crap out of a blender that didn’t seem to be working properly.

  Valerie gazed back at the swinging doors. With Logan temporarily detained, it was the perfect opportunity to ask her brother for a ride home without having to come face-to-face with Logan again. So she circled back around the large group of men blocking the path and picked her way through the crowded room until she made it to the swinging metal doors and pushed her way through.

  The two men stood in front of a door halfway down the narrow hallway. As Paul unlocked the door, she overheard him telling her brother that the T-shirts were in a box on the back shelf and that he could grab one and change inside the storeroom. Brett handed the bartender the twenty-dollar bill and disappeared into the room.

  As Paul closed the door behind Brett and turned to leave, Valerie began moving in his direction. But she’d barely taken two steps when Paul did something she hadn’t expected. He pulled a brown wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and slid the money inside with all the coolness of someone who’d done something like that many times before.

  Valerie froze, unable to believe what she’d just witnessed.

  She would’ve normally given him the benefit of the doubt, especially since Paul was a stranger to her and all, but the moment his gaze lifted and connected with hers, she knew her first inclination had been an accurate one.

  Paul jerked to a stop, his whole body stiffening, as he stared at her with an oh fuck expression, apparently realizing he’d been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. A few seconds ticked by before he recovered and tried to conceal his obvious guilt with a broad smile. “I think you’re lost, honey. Employees only back here. The bathrooms are on the other side of the bar.”

  Maybe he thought hinting that he worked there would throw her off, but she wasn’t about to let him get away with what he’d done. Not when he’d stolen money…and from Logan of all people. “I’m waiting for Brett.”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “Never heard of him.”

  She nodded to the door behind him. “He’s the guy in that room changing his shirt.”

  The color washed out of Paul’s face, but he somehow managed to control the tempo of his voice. “I see. So you’re another one of Logan’s friends, huh?”

  Um, not really. “Yes. So close we’re practically family.” Ugh. Damn it, Val. Stop it with the family shit!

  “Good to know,” Paul said with a grin, moving closer and stretching out his hand. “Any friend of Logan’s is a friend of mine.”

  She stared at his offered hand but didn’t accept it as her eyes lifted back to his. “I think I could do without a friend like you in my life.”

  The bald-headed bartender eyed her warily. “Why’s that?”

  She crossed her arms. “I saw what you did.”

  “Yeah? And what was that exactly?”

  “You put Brett’s money in your wallet.”

  The muscles in Paul’s neck tensed, but he chuckled softly. “Oh, that? Well, I was just keeping it safe until I got back to the cash register. Didn’t want to drop it, ya know?”

  Valerie rolled her eyes. “As sticky as your fingers seem to be, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have had that problem.”

  “Just what the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Paul took another intimidating step toward her.

  Uneasy, she glanced around. For a moment, she considered calling out for her brother, but she didn’t want to alarm him. Especially since Brett had a tendency to punch first and ask questions later. But seriously, what the hell was taking him so long?

  Paul continued to stare at her with beady eyes. “You trying to accuse me of something?”

  “I’m not trying. I am accusing you of something,” she said with a waning bravado. Come on, Brett. Hurry up.

  The bartender advanced on her so Valerie stepped aside to let him pass. But he didn’t continue straight ahead like she thought he would. Instead, he followed her movements until he had effectively backed her against the wall. The second she realized what he was doing, she tried to maneuver around him, but he flung his arm up to block her motion.

  She flinched so hard that her teeth chattered together, and she accidentally bit the inside of her cheek. Anxiety swam through her veins while fear took a record nosedive straight to her gut. If he was trying to scare her, he was doing a damn good job of it.

  When Paul placed both of his palms against the wall on either side of her body and leaned in, she flattened herself against the hard surface at her back to get as far away from him as she could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t far enough. His hot, whiskey-fueled breath practically singed the split ends off her hair.

  That’s just great. Not only was Paul a thief, but he was a drunk one at that. And she doubted Logan knew
anything about it, since she’d already heard him tell Brett earlier that he didn’t drink on the job. It would only make sense that he wouldn’t want his employees to either. “I wonder what Logan will say when I tell him that I caught you stealing his money and that you’ve been drinking on the clock.”

  Paul’s mouth went slack. Then he narrowed his eyes in warning. “Darlin’, you don’t want to go there with me. I can get real nasty if someone starts spreading lies about me. Real nasty,” he repeated, twirling a strand of her hair between his fingertips. “You remember that, honey, and we won’t have any problems.”

  Although her stomach tightened and panic welled up inside her, she stood her ground. “Are you threatening me?”

  He chuckled under his breath. “Now why would I do that to such a beautiful young woman?” His finger trailed leisurely across her collarbone.

  She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me, you jerk.”

  “Why? Afraid your boyfriend will get mad?” he asked, gesturing back to the closed storeroom door.

  “Brett isn’t my boyfriend.”

  “Good to know,” Paul said, his gaze flickering with something sinister.

  Valerie didn’t like what she saw in his eyes. She needed to get out of there. Now. But as she tried to leave once more, Paul wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her up against him and then pressed her into the wall to pin her in place.

  She pushed her hand against his chest to keep him from leaning in to kiss her. “If you don’t let me go, I’m going to scream. Then Brett’s going to come out here and wipe the floor with your ass.”

  He hesitated a moment, then his gaze fell to her cleavage before lifting back to her mouth. “So you’re a screamer, are you? Hmm, that could be fun.” Then his thumb grazed the length of her jaw.

  She wasn’t sure what he was about to do, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to just stand there and let him do it. Without a second thought, she reached down with her right hand and grasped his balls in a viselike grip. “This is your last warning. Let. Go.” She squeezed harder just to show him she wasn’t playing around.