If you were my man

by Unknown

  He hadn’t decided that he’d go. He’d rather spend the time alone with Nathalyia. “She might be busy.”

  “Ask her. She can get a taste of real barbecue, Texas style.”

  Barron was from Dallas. “I’ll ask, but we’re just dating.”

  “Yeah,” Cannon said. “But remember, you heard it from me first.”

  Theresa was seventeen minutes late the next morning. Nathalyia had asked Jake to send Theresa back to her office when she arrived. When she hadn’t shown up by ten ten, Nathalyia had gone to the front to wait for her.

  Rafael hadn’t been able to come over last night and she was restless. She wished she could have confided in him, but she was too ashamed. She might have hired Theresa under duress, but one thing Nathalyia would not allow was any hint that one employee received preferential treatment.

  Nathalyia had hoped Theresa would at least make the effort to arrive on time for her first day of work. She should have known better. Theresa was irresponsible and shiftless. To Nathalyia’s knowledge, her sister had never held down a full-time job.

  All the other employees assigned to come in at ten were already there. Martin had always been a stickler for promptness, and Nathalyia had followed his example. She understood things came up, but employees knew to call. There had been no phone call from Theresa. Nathalyia briefly considered that Theresa might not know the phone number, but she was honest enough to realize that Theresa would have made no effort to find the number.

  Nathalyia glanced at her watch. Nineteen minutes after ten. Hiring her sister might be the worst business decision she had ever made. She winced. She should view helping her sister as personal, yet somehow she couldn’t. She had never felt a part of the Johnson family.

  If Nathalyia didn’t feel guilty about not being there for her mother, and just a little afraid that if she didn’t help Theresa, she was vindictive enough to tell anyone who would listen that they were related just to embarrass Nathalyia and try to destroy her life, there was no way she would’ve hired her. One thing was certain, Theresa would not quietly disappear. Not when there was a chance of getting money.

  Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  Nathalyia saw Theresa coming from the bus stop. She had on a long black wig, a multicolored top, wrinkled white cotton pants, and heels. Despite her lateness, she made no effort to hurry. Nathalyia didn’t have to look around to know that although Jake and Clarice might be working to ready the bar for opening, they were surely keeping an eye on the clock and on Nathalyia. Once it became known that Theresa was a new hire, there would be talk of her tardiness and how it was handled.

  Theresa entered the restaurant, chewing gum, wearing large, round sunshades and dangling red stone earrings that almost touched her shoulders. “Are you the welcoming committee?” she quipped.

  Nathalyia glanced at her watch. “You’re twenty-one minutes late. Your check will be docked accordingly. Be late again without calling and it will be your last.”

  The smile slid from Theresa’s coffee-colored face to be replaced by anger. “I—”

  “If you don’t like the rules, this conversation is over, and I wish you well,” Nathalyia told her. Martin had taught her to get in the first punch and make sure it was a good one. If Theresa thought she could walk over Nathalyia, she’d make her life hell and bleed her dry for money.

  Theresa didn’t say anything, but her eyes shot daggers.

  “If you’ll follow me, I have your uniform and there are some forms for you to sign.” Not waiting for her to comply, Nathalyia went to her office. She left the door open. Halfway across the room, she heard the door slam, but continued until she stood behind the desk.

  “I’ll give you that one, but slam my office door again and you’re history. I’m doing this to help you. Perhaps you should remember that you begged for a job.” Nathalyia took her seat. “If that has changed, I can tear up these employment forms and give the clothes I purchased for you to charity.”

  “Why are you riding me?” Theresa flared.

  “Theresa, employees follow strict rules. My staff knows this and abides by them without question. I won’t allow you or anyone else to cause disruption within my staff.” Nathalyia placed her hands on her desk. “Your choice. Follow the rules, be courteous to staff and customers, work hard, and there should be no problem.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” she cried. “I didn’t want to rush from the bus stop and get all hot and sweaty. The bus was late and I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “Then perhaps you should take an earlier bus.” Nathalyia refused to bend.

  Theresa’s mouth tightened. Clearly she had thought she would call the shots.

  “What’s your decision?”

  “I’ll stay.”

  Nathalyia kept her expression carefully neutral. She’d known what the answer would be. To Theresa, Nathalyia had become her big score. She nodded to the black pants and white blouse hanging on a coatrack by the door. “The employee locker room is across the hall. You can change in there. Please remove the earrings. Women wear studs or small hoop earrings.”

  Wordlessly, Theresa picked up the clothes and went to the door.

  “Seventy-six dollars and seventy-eight cents will be deducted from your first paycheck for your uniform. Get rid of the gum, and please wear another fragrance tomorrow,” Nathalyia told her. “Once you’re dressed, come back here and I’ll introduce you to Clarice and Jake. They will train you.”

  Theresa swung around. “Aren’t those the two who hassled me yesterday?”

  “They were doing their job. They’re two of the best employees I have.” Nathalyia picked up her pen. “I want you to have some idea of what to do before Fontaine opens”—she glanced at her watch—“in thirty- eight minutes.”

  Tight-lipped, Theresa closed the door. She didn’t slam it, but Nathalyia knew she wanted to. She was learning—had to learn—that this new Nathalyia couldn’t be bullied or walked on. Theresa would look for weakness and bide her time; Nathalyia was sure of that.

  Theresa might say she wanted them to be closer, but most likely she was there to figure out how to get money from Nathalyia that she didn’t have to work for. She’d soon learn she’d come to the wrong place.

  ELEVEN

  Clarice’s face hurt from trying to keep her smile as Nathalyia introduced Theresa Jones. Clarice would bet anything that Jones wasn’t her real last name. She didn’t trust the woman or the half sneer on her bloated face. Jake had better watch the liquor.

  Clarice glanced toward Jake beside her and saw his rigid profile. He hadn’t relented. They were still on the outs. She needed him with her on this. He was one of the few people she listened to when her temper got the best of her. She had a feeling that the new hire would test her to the limit.

  “I’ll leave you, Theresa, with Clarice and Jake. They’re the best, and I trust them completely. Welcome to Fontaine.” Nathalyia returned to her office.

  Obviously unimpressed, Theresa folded her arms and glanced out the window. Clarice wanted to snatch the bad wig off her head, then beat her with it. Breathe. Breathe.

  “Clarice is the best person to train you, just as Nathalyia said. Listen to her, learn from her, and you’ll do fine,” Jake said. His voice carried a bit of a bite.

  Theresa’s head whipped back around to stare at him.

  “The slate is clean. What you write on it from now on is up to you,” Jake said.

  “Thank you.” Theresa caught his arm. “I-I want to apologize for yesterday. There’s no excuse, but I was desperate.”

  Clarice fought the urge to snatch Theresa’s hand from Jake’s arm. She just hoped he wasn’t buying her load of crap the way Nathalyia appeared to be.

  “Do your job and you’ll be fine.” Jake nodded to Clarice. “You’re on.”

  Clarice bit her lower lip to control her emotion. Jake might be annoyed—all right, angry with her—but his faith in her hadn’t changed. That meant more than wiping that smirk off Th
eresa’s smug face. Clarice wasn’t going to let him or Nathalyia down even if it killed her. “Theresa, you’ll shadow me for the time being and we’ll see how it goes.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Breathe. Breathe. Clearly Theresa was the type of woman who tried to charm men when it suited her and had little use for other women. “This way. I’ll get you an apron.” Clarice started for the bar, caught Jake gazing at her with approval. She smiled at him, but he had already turned away. Her gaze narrowed on his stiff neck.

  “When is my break and lunch? Nathalyia said I eat free.”

  Clarice lifted her eyes heavenward. It was going to be a very long day.

  Rafael took a seat at one of the high tables in the bar area of Fontaine at a little after seven. He wanted to check on Nathalyia. She hadn’t sounded like herself when they’d talked yesterday or earlier today. Joy and laughter had been missing from her voice. Last night, after working with the narcotics unit to serve high-risk warrants, he’d gotten off work too late to go by her place.

  “What can I get you?”

  He glanced around to see a waitress he didn’t recognize. Her cloying perfume made him want to lean back even as she inched closer, giving him a slow once-over. “Iced tea, please.”

  She propped her arm on the table and smiled in what he was sure she thought was a seductive pose. Her eyes, however, were coldly calculating. If he leaned back any farther, he’d probably topple off his chair. “You see anything else—”

  “Theresa,” Nathalyia interrupted, her voice terse.

  The waitress straightened, but not before Rafael saw the surly expression on her dark face. “I’ll be back with your order.”

  He caught Nathalyia’s hand without thinking about it. She looked ready to blow. “No way,” he said simply.

  She shook her head. “Sorry, long day.”

  It was more than that, but she wasn’t ready to confide in him. He didn’t like knowing she didn’t trust him enough to tell him what was bothering her. One day he hoped to change that. “I missed you, so I stopped in to eat and see you.”

  “What do you have a taste for?”

  He laughed. She blushed. “Surprise me,” he said finally.

  The corners of her incredible mouth tilted upward in an easy smile. “All right.”

  “I don’t suppose you can stop by later to share a dessert,” he said, his thumb stroking the top of her hand.

  “I’ll try, but I doubt it,” she said, glancing around the crowded restaurant.

  “Then for dessert I’d like vanilla cheesecake with lots of whipped cream and strawberry topping to go,” he said.

  “I’ll see to it personally,” she said, a mischievous light dancing in her eyes.

  Rafael watched her walk away. Quite simply, she got to him in the best possible way. He hoped she didn’t skimp on the whipped cream. He knew just the places he planned to dabble it on her naked body.

  Nathalyia turned in Rafael’s order, then pulled Theresa to one side. “Your responsibility is to serve food and drinks and nothing else.”

  “I didn’t mean to step on your toes,” Theresa said. “I saw the way you two were looking at each other after I left. You should have said he was off-limits.”

  “All customers are off-limits, Theresa,” Nathalyia told her, unwilling to discuss her relationship with Rafael.

  “If that’s a rule, you obviously broke it,” Theresa accused.

  “I’m not getting into a discussion about this, and I don’t plan to have it again. You have customers waiting.” Nathalyia walked off to continue her evening rounds. She could let Theresa upset her or try to think of how Rafael planned to use the whipped cream. She grinned as she came up with a few uses for the whipped cream herself.

  Rafael’s tongue slowly licked the mixture of whipped cream and strawberry topping from one taut nipple and then the other. Nathalyia arched her back and fastened her fingers in his hair. He moved with maddening slowness past her rib cage and over her quivering stomach to dip his tongue into the indentation of her navel.

  She twisted beneath him, her body rubbing against his, making his erection harder. He wanted to be inside her, but first he wanted to savor her, to claim her. He never felt this possessive about a woman, never wanted to please one as much.

  He wanted to taste every incredible inch of her skin before he took her. After tonight he didn’t want her to ever doubt that she was the only woman he thought about, the only woman he wanted to be with.

  His mouth moved down the sleek thigh of one leg, kissed the bend of her knee, her slender ankle, before doing the same thing with the other leg and moving back up.

  Her breath hitched, her heart thudded as he loved her with such gentleness and single-minded concentration. Her body burned for him. She wanted him now. Each stroke of his tongue, of his hand, made the wanting almost unbearable.

  “Please,” she whimpered, her eyes closed.

  “All you ever have to do is ask.”

  She felt his hands slide under her hips. His shoulders nudged her legs apart. Her hips lifted to receive him. The hot velvet lick of his tongue shocked her and sent pleasure sweeping through her. Her eyes snapped open and then she closed them again as wave after wave of exquisite ecstasy scattered her thoughts. She could only feel. She heard moaning and realized it was her. She wanted him inside her.

  “Please, now.” She tugged his hair.

  With one sure stroke he filled her, loved her, pushed her closer to the edge. Her legs and arms wrapped around him and clutched him to her. His strong, deep thrusts thrilled her as he rode her. The pace quickened. They went over together.

  It took a few moments for her mind to clear, and when it did, she pushed against Rafael’s chest until he rolled on his back. Sitting up, she grabbed the can of whipped cream and straddled him. “My turn.”

  Rafael grinned. “I’m a lucky man.”

  . . .

  Nathalyia practically floated into work the next morning—until she saw Jake’s stony expression. “What’s the matter?”

  “Six pints of Grey Goose are missing.”

  “I’ll give you one guess as to who stole them,” Clarice said from beside him, and folded her arms.

  Nathalyia felt her stomach muscles knot. “Did you see her in the cellar?”

  Jake shook his head. “No, the bar was busy all day.”

  “We didn’t have to see her,” Clarice told them. “Just look at that bloated face and you can tell she likes to hit the bottle. I bet she’d too hungover to come to work today.”

  The front door opened and Theresa breezed in five minutes early. She saw the shocked, accusing expressions on fatso’s face and wanted to laugh. She had surprised them, just as she had planned. “Good morning, everyone.”

  “Good morning, Theresa,” Nathalyia greeted, closely studying her.

  “Morning,” Jake murmured.

  From Clarice there was nothing but a cold, hard stare. Theresa could have cared less about the fat sow. “I remembered about the earrings.” She shoved the strap of the large handbag up higher on her shoulder. A smart thief knew when to move on. Tonight she planned on taking home a couple of those steaks for herself and some shrimp to sell. The man who had bought the vodka said he’d take as much as she could bring him. “I took an early bus just like you suggested. I’ll go put my bag up so I can be ready to start my shift.” Still smiling, she walked away.

  . . .

  “Keep the cellar door locked, Jake,” Nathalyia told him. “I won’t speak to the entire staff unless it happens again.”

  “Already done,” he said, his voice tight. “It should have been locked.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. We both agreed it was too much trouble,” Nathalyia reminded him.

  “You’re not going to question Theresa?” Clarice asked in disbelief, her hands on her hips.

  “She’d deny it, and we have no proof. Enough regular customers know where the liquor is kept,” Nathalyia said. “Or even another staff member cou
ld have taken the vodka.”

  Theresa hurried to them, tying her apron. She thought they were all stupid. The money she was getting from selling the vodka was paying for her manicure and a new wig she had her eye on. The money was chump change compared to what she was working on. Fontaine was a money tree and she was going to shake it. She just had to be careful. Her baby sister wasn’t as gullible as she had been growing up, but she’d hit the jackpot and Theresa was getting her share one way or the other. “What do you want me to do first, Clarice?”

  Clarice’s lips pressed tightly together before speaking. “Start washing the lemons and limes.”

  “I’ll get right on it.” She hated fatso. You had better not mess this up for me, Theresa thought as she hurried away.

  Nathalyia touched Clarice’s stiff arm. “I can always count on you.”

  “But it’s hard.” Clarice shook her head and slowly followed Theresa. Jake walked behind her.

  Nathalyia watched Clarice working with Theresa for a few moments to ensure they could get along before going to her office. Theresa had been at Fontaine less than twenty-four hours and problems had started already.

  Was Theresa the thief? Nathalyia wouldn’t condemn her without proof. Clarice was right, Theresa did like to drink, but she also liked money. Nathalyia wouldn’t have put it past her to have sold the vodka. But if Nathalyia caught Theresa stealing, this time she was going to jail.

  Rafael knew how he would have liked to spend his day off—in bed with Nathalyia—but since she was working, he decided the next best thing was to meet her for lunch, return for a stroll on the beach after sunset, and then enjoy a late-night supper. He could already envision feeding her in bed and then feasting on every incredible inch of her.

  Nodding to the hostesses, he started for the bar. When he’d spoken to Nathalyia earlier she said she’d have Clarice reserve a booth for them. Waving to Jake, who still looked at Rafael as if he’d like to take his head off, he waited for Clarice to finish with her customer.