Bound For Me

by Natalie Anderson

  “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.”

  Connor turned and stared.

  “I’ll send Dante over to help you,” Luca swiftly changed tack. “You’re busier in the bar tonight than we are in the restaurant.”

  There was only the one tall, dark and handsome reason for that.

  “Good idea,” Connor said curtly. “Savannah needs to finish soon.”

  “Savannah will finish when the bar closes,” Savannah bared her teeth at him. “What happened to no one knowing?” She hissed at him when Luca had gone.

  “I didn’t kiss and tell. I just kissed.”

  She stomped back out to the furtherest end of the bar. “Sorry, what can I get you?” She tried to smile at the next customer.

  “A bucket of ice. I’m hot watching him watch you,” the woman answered, her eyes trained on something over Savannah’s shoulder. “A girl could come from the way he looks at you.”

  Yeah.

  “It is hot in here,” Savannah conceded, for once unable to hold back on an honest, personal reply.

  “What’s that?” Connor stepped up alongside her. “You like the way I look at her?”

  The poor woman turned bright red.

  Connor reached into the ice bucket with his bare hand and fished out a single ice cube. “And you’re hot, Savannah?”

  Savannah looked at the ice he held up between thumb and forefinger and simply froze. He wouldn’t freaking dare.

  But to her outrage—and total arousal—he ran it across her cheek, over the bridge of her nose and across the other cheek. And then the bastard rubbed the rapidly melting little block across her lips.

  And what did she do?

  Just let him. Just about got off.

  He stepped closer. “You ready to come, Sugar?”

  Chapter Seven

  Connor was the one not far off coming. What the fuck was he thinking? But there was no walking away from the look in Savannah’s eyes. He heard a muffled squeal from the woman on the other side of the bar.

  Damn the audience.

  He couldn’t stay away. Couldn’t wait another moment. She was so fucking hot he wanted another kiss. Now.

  Staking a claim?

  Hell yes.

  Summerhill was his. And for the time being, she was his too.

  He hated all those other guys looking at her, watching the way she moved as she flipped bottles while simultaneously flipping off any potential flirts. They all got off on her bitchy attitude. Yeah, he knew exactly what they were thinking because he sure as shit was thinking it. Fact was she owned the balls of every man present. Even his.

  Especially his.

  “Connor.” Her voice was hoarse but her gaze didn’t waver from his. Her eyes sparkled but were hard. Bewitching him. Because despite that brilliant glitter, he knew the reason for the defense.

  She was aroused. And she didn’t want to be.

  So that made two of them.

  As he looked at her, everything that should matter, didn’t. All thoughts of his company, his family, his life… Nothing mattered in the face of this.

  Want.

  He’d had so many propositions tonight, could pick from an assortment of beautiful, willing bedmates. But he didn’t want any of those women.

  Only Savannah.

  He was screwed.

  And he was pissed with her for being here at all. But she wasn’t one to run away from a threat. Wasn’t going to be cowed by those jerks. She’d fronted up determined to own the place. Which she did. For a while there he’d actually been proud.

  But he was sick of pouring drinks now. Sick of the eyes-all-over-her, the comments. Dante, Luca’s younger brother, could step up. He was taking Savannah home.

  But he couldn’t seem to move. Couldn’t seem to breathe.

  Her lips glistened from the melted ice. His mouth watered. He wanted to taste so bad. Not just her mouth, but her body, her sex. He wanted every intimacy he hadn’t had the chance to take the other night. He wanted to lick every part of her, taste her orgasm, swirl his tongue in her—

  “Connor.”

  Her voice whispered across his skin, yet it was like she’d whipped him. He flinched.

  “You need to serve some people.”

  “No.” He didn’t. He needed to serve her. Then he’d have every inch of her.

  Own her for the night.

  But just as he moved to take her hand, he caught sight of a tall, unsmiling figure leaning idly against the back wall.

  Fuck.

  He was jerked back to reality. Not what he wanted right now.

  “I need a minute.” Connor reached behind her and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge.

  “Clearly.” She muttered. “You can’t handle the pace?” Her eyes glinted at him. “I don’t know what it is with staff these days, they have no stamina,” she shrugged. “You look the part, but you can’t keep up.”

  She was paying him back for the kiss, but he knew the truth. She was a live volcano under the ice act and in his arms she melted faster than butter on a griddle.

  He took a couple deep breaths and walked away from the bar, ignoring the hungry-eyed stares from so many of the women and the frat-house comments from half the guys.

  Finally he reached the man standing apart from all the rest and handed him the beer. “When did you get back?”

  Hunter Shaw took the beer but didn’t take his eyes off the woman standing behind the bar. “Savannah Nash. Looks like trouble.”

  Connor exhaled. Trust Hunter, security specialist and part-time PI, to get straight to it. “Yeah, I have that figured already.”

  Hunter didn’t look surprised. “Rumor has it you had an interesting night last night.”

  “How can you have been here for less than five minutes and know this already?” Connor glared at his friend.

  “I have my sources.” Hunter actually cracked a smile and finally glanced at him. “You know her father—”

  “Don’t.” Connor shut him up. “I’m dealing with it.”

  “By fucking her?”

  Connor didn’t answer.

  Hunter’s eyes widened. Which for Hunter was an extreme reaction. “Shit, Con. You finally went balls deep after who knows how long, and you chose her?” He shook his head. “And there’s everyone thinking Logan’s the risk-taker, what the fuck were you thinking—ohhhh.”

  What? Connor stared at his buddy. He hadn’t been thinking at all, at the time actually.

  “Smart,” Hunter lifted his beer in a toast. “Devious in fact. I’d even stretch to evil genius. Or maybe just bastard.”

  “I prefer evil genius.” Though he still didn’t get what he’d done that was so evil or so genius.

  “You screwed her to silence her. No way she can go public now. She’ll be too much the scorned lover.”

  A flame licked over Connor’s abdomen, charring his gut. So she had been planning to go public. “You knew she was going to talk?”

  “Maybe. What else could she do?” Hunter looked thoughtful. “I can get a full dossier on her together for you in
a matter of hours. In fact—”

  “No,” Connor held up his hand. “I don’t want to see it.”

  Hunter looked at him like he’d gone loco. “Don’t you want to know what you’re really up against?”

  Connor already knew. One determined, intelligent, wary woman.

  “I want her to tell me.” Connor muttered. “Herself.” Certainty settled into his bones. “I want her to take me on face to face.”

  And he meant that in every way.

  A funny look crossed Hunter’s face. Was that guilt? Regret? What the hell was that chink in Hunter’s normally impenetrable facade?

  “You okay?” Connor frowned, distracted by that rare display of something more than unmoved.

  “Yeah. No. I’ll be fine.”

  What did that mean? Since when was Hunter indecisive?

  “Oh yeah!”

  A call from near the bar snapped his attention back to Savannah. Someone had ordered half a dozen flaming who-knew-whats and she’d just lit the bar up like a Christmas tree. Smack in the center of screaming chaos, she was the ultimate in cool.

  “Well, let me know if you need anything.” Connor tilted his head from side to side, stretching out the tension in his neck muscles. He’d let his cock wipe out his cognitive function for a while there, but he was back to full brainpower now. So she’d come here with the intention of setting the media hounds on them? Dragging the Summerhill name down?

  Anger surged. Not on his watch she wasn’t.

  He’d set her straight on a few things. Disarm her legitimately.

  Then he’d screw her so fucking hard neither of them would be able to walk for days. And rid himself of the desire for her.

  Hunter slowly lifted the bottle towards his mouth, eyes trained on the woman working behind the bar. “Seems to me you have your hands full enough.”

  Not yet he didn’t.

  Chapter Eight

  The icy anger was back in Connor’s eyes. Savannah straightened instinctively, sending a quick glance at the tall man he’d been talking to. He was staring at her almost as hard as Connor was, except his expression wasn’t as obvious. She looked back at Connor.

  Yeah, that was anger all the way. All the incendiary desire of moments before?

  Obliterated.