by Lori Foster
And strangely enough, more than half their customers were women, not quite the norm for a brewery. Strange, yes, but no mystery.
The women at the table all burst into laughter at something Jamie said, and they made friendly protests when he started back toward the bar with a wave.
Jamie might be irresponsible and laissez-faire, but he was damn good at making the tasting room a place people wanted to be. That was a skill Eric would never acquire.
“Hey,” Jamie said as he came around the bar. “How’d it go today?”
He didn’t hesitate over the lie. “Nothing unusual. But that bastard Kendall is still leading me on. Maybe dinner tomorrow. Maybe not.”
Jamie grunted in answer and began washing pint glasses.
“And you?” Eric asked. “Any luck getting in touch with your friend?”
Jamie didn’t look at him. “No. But I talked to his roommate. Apparently Anthony was invited along on a spring-break trip to Cancun and decided he couldn’t resist.”
“Shit,” Eric snapped, grabbing a towel off Jamie’s shoulder to wipe down the bar. Not that it needed wiping down. Jamie was meticulous about that, at least.
“Unfortunately, my backup bartender is out of town, too. But Tessa is going to try to help tomorrow, so I can—”
“No. She’s been busy enough with tax season. Let her do her job.”
Jamie grabbed the towel back and dried his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. Shit happens, man.”
Eric met his brother’s eyes. Jamie’s green eyes looked nothing like Eric’s. That reminder was enough to make Eric look away, out over the tables of happy customers. It also threw cold water on his anger. “Yeah. It’s all right. We’ll deal with it.”
“I’d still like to come to the dinner. Maybe I can get away.”
Eric shook his head. “I’m telling you, it’s not a good idea. He’s not going to like you.”
“Everyone likes me,” Jamie said with a smile.
“God, you’re obnoxious. Which is exactly why this guy won’t like you. He wants to be the center of attention. He won’t appreciate it when the waitress flirts with you and not him.”
“We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t see. You hold down the fort. I’ll take care of the distribution.”
For a moment, Jamie looked as if he might protest. His mouth tightened, his eyes narrowed. Eric was curious what he was about to say, but then Jamie just ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “Did Henry work out?”
“Yeah, he was great.”
“I’ll take over the dish-washing while he’s working with you then.”
“Thank you. That’d be great.” A customer raised a hand at the far end of the bar, so Eric slapped Jamie on the back. “I’ll be in my office for a few minutes before I head out again. Are you okay here? You need a break?”
“I’m good.”
Eric was relieved he wouldn’t have to stand in at the tap. He’d had his share of socializing for the day, aside from one very specific person he wanted to see. He told himself he’d chosen the wine bar because it was quiet and they wouldn’t have to deal with the crowds at the hotel. The real reason was that it was quiet and they wouldn’t be seen by the crowds at the hotel.
And if he was really going to use Jamie’s name to pursue an unwise affair, the fewer people around, the better.
But was he truly going to do it? At this point, it would be more than awkward to correct her. But it would be irresponsible not to, and Eric was always responsible.
He was also always boring, serious and stressed out. Jamie, on the other hand, seemed to have found the secret to eternal satisfaction: do what feels good.
Eric had no doubt in the world that Beth Cantrell would feel good.
He glanced at his watch. Just past eight-thirty. He had time to get a little work done before he headed out. He also had time to change his mind and tell her the truth.
For the next five minutes, Eric stared at the computer and brooded. Not quite the same as working.
He’d meant to tell her his real name. He really had. He was Eric, after all. The brother who always did the right thing. The brother who would never use falsehood as a seduction. Then again, Eric didn’t really engage in seduction at all. He dated. Sometimes. But with Beth it wasn’t about a date. He wasn’t hoping for the beginning of a relationship. There was something hotter than that between them. Something urgent. Wasn’t there?
Maybe if he hadn’t watched her eat that torte, he could’ve just let it go. But he had watched her eat it. She’d savored it. Moaned over it. Her eyelashes had fluttered and closed. Her lips had parted on a pleased sigh. Her tongue had darted out to moisten her mouth and capture his attention.
There’d been nothing good or clean about her then. Not one single thing. And she made Eric want to be dirty, too.
Maybe it was the wrongness of what he was doing that caused vivid excitement to awaken every nerve in his body. He felt…alive. Intrigued. Guilty and righteous all at once.
He rubbed both hands over his face and forced himself to open his email window. He deleted some messages and scrolled through a few more. He reviewed a few invoices and signed off on the larger checks that needed two signatures.
By the time he finished up, it was nine. As he stood and grabbed a jacket, Eric knew he wasn’t going to tell Beth his real name. What the hell did it matter? Jamie was just a name to her, a reputation. Eric was real flesh and blood, and he wasn’t going to lie to her about that. No, that he could offer her with complete and utter honesty.
BETH HADN’T BEEN IN DANGER of falling asleep during the seminar, at least. She’d been wide awake and anticipating this walk across the street.
As usual, a few steps down the path toward living out a fantasy and Beth was a nervous wreck. She paused on the sidewalk to close her eyes and visualize sexual success.
She believed with every fiber of her being that women needed physical fulfillment as much as men did. That women should feel free to seek out their pleasure as earnestly as men did, whatever that pleasure might entail. But she couldn’t seem to discover what hers was. She had trouble relaxing enough during sex to get off. She had no interest in group sex or spanking or other women. She wasn’t turned on by whips or latex or leather. Her only kink was preppy boys, for God’s sake, a desire so vanilla it couldn’t even be called a kink. There had to be something else that would get her engine running, something more interesting, something hot enough to distract her from her own thoughts.
But maybe it wasn’t something, but someone. Because Jamie Donovan made her warm in very special places. And when she walked into the bar and saw him, those special places ratcheted from warm to hot.
Hands in his pockets, he leaned against a red-velvet banquette toward the back of the bar. She couldn’t see his expression in the dim lighting, but somehow she already knew the shape of his wide shoulders and the line of his bent head as he stared at the floor. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was mussed as if he’d run a hand through it more than once.
She was only five feet away when he looked up. His blue-gray eyes sent sparks down her spine. When the sparks reached low enough, lust exploded like fireworks inside her. The man looked for all the world like a furious, determined, sexy stockbroker forced to work overtime to address a financial crisis.
He looked like a preppy god.
And Beth was the troublesome financial crisis. Oh, wow.
A waitress brushed past her, but Beth was stuck, held to the ground as his frown edged up into a smile.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi.”
“I got a booth…” He stepped back and gestured toward the deep circular booth. The only light provided was a flickering candle in a beaded lamp. As if he were reading her mind.
She slid into one side, and he slid in opposite, and they were cocooned in dark red velvet. Beth could just see the edge of the bar and a dark hallway beyond it.
“I forgot to get your number,” he sa
id, flipping open his phone.
“Oh, right.” She scrambled to get her own phone out of her purse. Was this the point at which she told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship? Should she type BOOTY CALL next to his name so he’d get the idea? She typed in a simple “Jamie Donovan” and tried to think of a diplomatic way to say “please don’t use my number after tonight.”
Her mind worked frantically as they exchanged numbers. Her hand trembled as he handed her the wine list. She had to say something, right? Or should she just let things take their natural course? “Jamie…” she finally blurted out—and a waitress appeared as if by magic.
“What would you like this evening?” the girl asked.
Good question.
He smiled. “Do you have any recommendations?”
Yes, Beth thought. How about the hottest sex I’ve ever had and not a peep out of you afterward?
The server rattled on, but Beth couldn’t concentrate. He had spread his hand out on the table, and she could only stare at it. That hand might be touching her later.
“Beth?” he prompted.
“Oh! What are you going to have?”
“The Shiraz, but I’m no wine expert. You might want to—”
“I’ll have that, too.”
He gave her a helpless smile and shrugged. “Okay, two glasses of the Shiraz.” When the waitress disappeared, he leaned closer. “We should’ve gone somewhere with beer. I’d feel much more confident and manly while ordering.”
Beth couldn’t keep up her worried monologue when he was smiling so close to her. And she’d been right about him. He did smell good. Like starched cotton and soap. As though he should be on the cover of a Polo catalog. Beth’s heart shook with nervous joy. “You seem manly enough.”
“Oh, manly enough?”
“Maybe,” she answered with a grin. “Notice I qualified it with ‘seem.’”
“Ouch. I didn’t know you were into sadism.”
She laughed, but his smile slipped a little. “Um, you’re not into sadism, are you?”
“Oh, God,” she laughed, tears springing to her eyes in amused relief. He looked so worried. Did he only want her to be a normal girl? What a nice change. “No,” she finally said. “I am not a sadist. Or a masochist, if that’s your next question.”
“Good. I didn’t think you looked—I mean, not that people look a certain way. Or that I thought this was leading to a… That we would… Ah, shit.”
He leaned his head back against the cushion as Beth laughed until she couldn’t breathe.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped.
“Oh, no. I’m pretty sure I’m sorry.”
The waitress delivered their wine and he snatched his up with a muttered, “Thank God.”
If he was nervous, then maybe this was okay. Maybe she wasn’t a failure. Maybe this kind of sexual tension was supposed to make you nervous.
She suddenly felt so much better that she scooted a little closer while he wasn’t looking and clicked her glass against his. “Cheers.”
He opened his eyes and his gaze dipped to her mouth as she put the glass to her lips. “Cheers,” he murmured back.
“Mmm. It’s good. Your manhood is safe with me.”
He tasted the wine and his eyebrows rose. “That is good. How could you ever have doubted me?”
“I didn’t really. In fact, I’ve heard amazing things about you.”
“Oh.” A pink flush rose up his face.
“I’m sorry. Was that rude? It’s just that…”
“Beth—”
“Listen,” she interrupted. “I just…” She leaned even closer. Her arm brushed his, and the crisp hair on his forearm sent pleasure sizzling through her. “Jamie,” she whispered, “can I be completely honest with you?”
CHAPTER FOUR
ERIC WAS FILLED WITH a strange and arousing mixture of lust and guilt. Her arm slid along his, and a very interesting amount of cleavage was exposed when she leaned so close to him. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever met, and every time she said “Jamie” it was rubbing his conscience raw. Now she was offering complete honesty?
He would have stopped her if he hadn’t been so intent on hearing her thoughts.
“You know where I work.”
He nodded and watched her pink lips touch the edge of her glass. She drank, and when she lowered the wine, her lips were even pinker. Ruby-red and touched with dampness. Eric’s mouth went dry.
He felt hypnotized, and when her knee brushed his, he reached automatically to touch it. Beth inhaled sharply, and those ruby lips parted just the tiniest bit.
“Because of my job,” she continued, the words slightly breathless. “You might think…”
Fascinated by her response and drawn in by her soft skin, Eric rubbed his little finger along the inside of her knee. She edged her leg closer to his, parting her knees, giving him space. His mind tumbled over in a primal surge of victory.
“What I’m trying to say,” she whispered, “is that I don’t usually do this.”
“This?” he repeated. Her skin was so hot. He spread his fingers wider, edging them past her knee to her thigh.
“Yes,” she breathed. “This.” And her hand pressed atop his.
This was wrong. Because she didn’t know who he was. Because they were virtually strangers. Because they were in public. But wrong felt better than he’d imagined it could.
Wrong felt like the silky heat of her thigh as she dragged his hand higher. It felt like her skirt easing up as he slid beneath it. And it felt like her muscles trembling as she edged her legs farther apart.
Eric suddenly regretted that he’d spent his life doing the right thing. Instead, he wanted to do…this.
His fingers brushed the satiny fabric between her legs. Her breath caught in her throat, and Eric ceased breathing altogether. Her muscles tightened as she tried to spread her knees farther, but the material of the skirt was too narrow around her thighs.
Eric didn’t mind. He didn’t plan to go further than this. This place, where he could slip his fingers between her thighs and rub just there.
Beth bit back a little whimper, cutting it off before it became a moan. She let go of his wrist and put her hand on his thigh instead. He held still, settling in to the idea that he was really doing this, giving himself just a few seconds to decide that he was.
He pressed circles against her clit, feeling the satin grow wet under his touch, feeling her thighs tremble. He didn’t pause even when a group of people passed by, their voices filling the booth for a moment.
She choked on a gasp, but no one could see past the front of the table. Eric had made sure of that, in the interest of privacy, but he hadn’t anticipated they’d need it quite this much.
As her breathing grew more ragged, her fingers dug into his thigh. She stared straight ahead, her expression caught somewhere between pleasure and worry.
Was she an exhibitionist? Was that her thing? Eric didn’t give a damn as long as she kept making those soft, whimpering sounds. As long as she clutched his thigh as if he was anchoring her to the earth.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
He didn’t move in to kiss her. He didn’t dare get any closer. As it was, if the waitress reappeared, she would see nothing more than a man turned slightly toward a woman as they talked. So instead of kissing her, Eric watched her face closely. Redness touched her cheeks like rouge. Her pulse beat hard in her throat. He increased the pressure against her clit, and the skin around her eyes tightened as her pupils went wider.
Someone spoke loudly in the booth next to theirs. Laughter echoed through the booth.
“Oh, God,” she moaned. “I…”
Her hips twitched, pushing up against his hand. Her thighs shook around him as her muscles spasmed. She was coming. Right here. Right now. His other hand tightened into a fist that he pressed mercilessly against the table. His cock grew so hard that it hurt.
She bowed her head and he could barely hear her strangled cry
as she jerked against him.
Eric stared at the fall of her hair, utterly shocked at what he’d just done. He’d made this woman come. He’d stroked her to climax in a public place and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.
He was going to have to be bad more often.
THIS WAS SEXUAL LIBERATION. This was embracing a fantasy. This was also a little bit awkward as he eased his hand out from between her thighs.
Beth raised her head. She didn’t look at him, but she could see that his wineglass wasn’t quite steady as he raised it for a drink. She pressed her thighs together and savored the last little spasms of pleasure that took her.
Were they supposed to talk now? Discuss the latest movies? Beth couldn’t begin to think at this point.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” she whispered before smoothing down her skirt and sliding out of the booth.
“Of course,” he said, his words following her toward the dark hallway.
She found the women’s room and pushed through the door, immediately meeting her own eyes in the mirror. She looked dazed. And flushed. She looked like a woman who’d just done something wicked.
Covering her mouth, she whispered, “Wow.” She pressed her hand harder, trying to stop the grin that was starting. But she couldn’t stop it. She’d just done something totally insane. In public. “Oh, wow,” she said again, the words dissolving into laughter.
Her panties were soaking wet. Her thighs weak and shaky. And he was still at the table, waiting for her.
The door whooshed open behind her, and Beth pressed her lips together to stifle her grin as she reached for the faucet so she’d look less conspicuous. She couldn’t just stand there grinning at herself, even if she was the most awesome woman in the building.
As soon as she heard the stall door close behind her, Beth smiled at herself again. She dried her hands and smoothed her hair. She didn’t need to touch up her makeup. Her lips were flushed deep red and her eyes sparkled. Hell, yeah.
