Tapped

by Liz Crowe

  By one o’clock, Austin had worked his flirtatious sales magic at all seven of the stops they’d made, charming one lady bar manager into ordering six cases in anticipation of the upcoming holiday weekend. Evelyn had even admitted her irritation at his ease with women, and how every single one of them ended up doe-eyed and slack-jawed by the time he was done.

  She tamped down the jealousy, reminding herself he was making money for her after all. The moment in the car when he’d almost touched her then stopped still made her quiver. Which was so sappy even she could barely acknowledge it.

  She’d done her best to give off a ‘stay away’ vibe. And it seemed to be working. He’d gone full-frontal business the minute they’d hit the first store. The big test would come after they’d had lunch at the Grand Traverse Resort. Fitzgerald already had a permanent tap handle there, so no selling was required, just checking in, having a good meal and relaxing a little. But her nerve endings were zinging around with the sort of twitchy, flat-out horny energy she’d never experienced in her life, relaxation seemed like a distant, unobtainable goal. And thoughts of the three large beer stores they needed to nail after lunch made fatigue hover on her horizon.

  “Holy shit, my jaw hurts from talking so much.” Austin groaned and stretched.

  She kept her eyes averted to avoid the temptation of staring at the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders. He rubbed the ache in question and she had to clench her fists under the table to keep from doing the same thing—she could practically feel the roughness of his stubbled face under her fingertips.

  “How the hell do you do this every day?”

  She gulped some water. They’d had some great conversation in the car between stops. Talking about the business, his process, her need for him to be more in tune to what the salesmen told him. ‘We’re the front lines, you know. We know what people are buying, thanks to the retailers who place the orders.’

  He’d laughed at her tale of touring a large brewery in Detroit. She’d been wearing high heels and had slipped on a puddle of glycol and landed on her ass, resulting in a bruise that had taken weeks to heal.

  But now, facing him once more across a small table overlooking the pristine golf course at the resort, her nervousness was all-consuming. The urge to protect herself as phrases such as out of your league and looking for a quick lay dashed across her brain made her dizzy.

  But he kept talking and she kept nodding, trying not to stare at the way his lips moved and how much she wished he’d shut up and kiss her again. What was wrong with a simple physical relationship anyway? Her last boyfriend hadn’t been that good. She’d gone out with him the second and third times for the companionship and had been bored silly. And the chemistry that rolled between her and Austin Fitzgerald now was obvious to her—and to him, she felt certain.

  She smiled at him, shifted her shoulders, and tossed her hair. He hesitated, seeming to lose his train of thought in a very satisfying way. His next words made her blink in surprise.

  “Where’d you come from, anyway?”

  “Huh?” She sipped the Fitzgerald 420 IPA to hide her confusion.

  “Did you just spring in all your fully formed beauty into my world from nowhere? I mean, did you grow up here? How have I never seen you before?

  “Oh, well, I didn’t exactly belong to the country club. I doubt you even know where the crime-riddled high school was that I attended. Not to mention the public pool where I used to lifeguard.”

  He reached over and grabbed her hand before she realized what he was doing. His skin was warm, perfect, and she let him hold on to her, discovering her sudden spike of pique at his question had faded away.

  “Evelyn,” he said as he ran his thumb across the top of her hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Let me try again.” He leaned in and took her other hand, making her nearly choke on the stone-fired pizza bite she’d just taken. “Tell me your story. I want to know all about you. Including the crappy school, the public pool, and whatever else.”

  “I assure you it’s boring.” Her face burned and she pulled away, but he wouldn’t let go. His dark-emerald gaze mesmerized her as she cleared her throat. “Uh, let’s see. I was an original latch-key kid. My single mom worked at a bowling alley bar. I wore second-hand clothes and fixed crappy, unhealthy meals for myself. But I made decent grades and had a few friends. And I got into Western Michigan, but my mom died of what I’m pretty sure is AIDS when I was a sophomore. She was turning tricks in her car after hours in the bowling alley parking lot, it seems.”

  Why in God’s name she was telling him all of this, she had no idea. The concept that he’d be put off by her background, offended or disgusted by her sad-sack backstory had occurred to her. But he kept staring at her. Making her want nothing more than for him to lay one of those toe-curling kisses on her again.

  “I had some money saved from being a lifeguard and got a fair bit of financial aid, but once Mom died, well, I just lost interest…or something.” Her voice faded when she realized how incredibly lame the whole thing sounded. She tugged out of his grip, pissed at him for making her say so much.

  He leaned back, sipped his beer and kept quiet.

  “So, now that I’ve impressed you with my pedigree, I guess we can agree that anything that happens between us”—she pointed to him then to herself, determined to get this shit out in the open once and for all—“is purely physical. I mean, I’m not your type, as I said. Other than for a quick lay, I guess.”

  Anger shot across Austin’s face as he leaned forward. “I said it once and I’ll say it again. You don’t have the first idea what my type is. So stop putting words in my mouth. It’s annoying.”

  She shrugged, attempting to keep her expression casual. But the burning sensation in her face had traveled down her spinal cord, lighting a fire in her core, then going even farther south, settling in her now unquestionably damp panties.

  She watched his hands, imagined how they would feel against her bare skin. Saw his lips moving, remembered exactly how they’d felt on hers. When he reached out and ran his finger over her cheek, she jerked back, shocked when she saw the wetness on his fingertip. She swiped at her face. Angry tears had been her downfall her entire life. But she was shocked that she’d been crying in front of him without even realizing it.

  She stood, determined to put some distance between them before she made a complete fool of herself. “I’m going to the bathroom. Don’t get up.” She turned away before he could speak. Once inside, she collapsed against the stall door, breathless with lust and furious with herself for falling for Mr. Old Money Brewery Playboy.

  Chapter Six

  Austin forced himself to stay put, sipping his beer, with a lid clamped on his libido. But his new-found compulsion to save Evelyn Benedict, to plunk her into an expensive car, a house or condo, with designer clothes on her back, vacations to Europe, all the shit he took for granted had overwhelmed him. Even though something told him she’d balk at all of it.

  Stubborn woman.

  He smiled, watching her return to the table.

  Stubborn, beautiful, smart and wholly unsuitable, according to his ingrained parental requirements for a life partner. Ignoring the small whisper of doubt about his motives, he rose, threw some money on the table and guided her back out to her car. His head was awash with images, all of them erotic and all starring her and him and the first of many long weekends together.

  She stayed quiet, giving only monosyllabic responses to his questions for the next hour as they drove past the coastal Lake Michigan resort towns. Figuring now was not the time to invite her to pop in at his family’s large house on a bluff in Manistee, he kept at it, trying to get her talk, to shake whatever funk had settled over her at lunch.

  By the time they’d reached their destination, he had her laughing again at some anecdote about his time in Germany, leaving out some of the seedier exploits he’d gotten up to with Ross but making sure she knew that theirs had been a friendship built on a love of
the brewing process.

  Evelyn parked the car, turned it off then faced him, her smile genuine. “Sounds like you really had a good time there,” she said, her voice free of any hint of irony. “And that you had a great friend in Ross. Where is he now?”

  “Uh, west coast,” he said, his voice shaky. “Listen, Evelyn, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m… We were kind of, well, we fucked around while we were there. I mean, we worked hard but, um, played just as hard.”

  She frowned and tilted her head to the side. “Lots of girlfriends, huh?” Her voice was tight and unhappy.

  “No, no nothing like that. We were…ah…”

  “Oh, I see now.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, her blue eyes taking on a darker hue. “You and Ross…were together?”

  Austin felt his skin heat up. “Oh, no, not us. We just sort of enjoyed…sharing experiences, I guess.”

  God, you are lame.

  “Ah, so you’re double teamers, eh?” The corner of her lips turned up, giving him a small modicum of hope. “Those guys.” Her voice and eyes reflected amusement, but it wasn’t at all what he wanted her to think about him. He ran a hand down his face, closed his eyes, and mentally kissed his shot at her goodbye.

  She parked and they sold, hitting three places and making three successful sales pitches together, learning to riff off each other, fill in the blanks, and impress some fairly recalcitrant bar and beer managers.

  “Jesus,” she sighed, stretching before getting back into the car, giving him a heart-stopping view of a small sliver of her skin between skirt and blouse. He had to step away from her before he did something stupid. “I’m exhausted.” He climbed into the car before she saw the effect she had on him. “One more stop, then we’ll head home, hopefully miss the worst of the traffic on ninety-six.” She named the busy interstate around Grand Rapids.

  He nodded and stayed quiet, trying to calm his newly raging lust and visceral desire to touch her.

  She set her jaw as she started the car. He gulped and looked away. He had never had this weird, almost queasy feeling in his gut about anyone before. Ross had brought out something in him he’d embraced and enjoyed. But this…this was something different entirely and he wasn’t sure he liked it. But realized he was willing to try—to go so far as to break off his long-running relationship with another woman if only to get this woman into his life.

  The tension was back and now more palpable than ever. It shimmered in the air, suffused his every pore, made him twitchy, horny and pissed off all at once.

  It was, in a word, perfect. He let it carry him along as he followed the luscious sway of her hips up to the entrance of the giant liquor store, their last stop before the long trek back down to Grand Rapids. He needed to make a move but for the first time in years had no idea how to go about it. It made him wish for about a second Ross were here to smooth his path, until he acknowledged there was no way in hell he’d be sharing this woman, not even with the man he’d shared pretty much everything with for so long.

  “Evelyn!” A tall, handsome bald guy who vaguely resembled Dwayne Johnson came out from behind the counter and enveloped her in a hug, setting Austin’s teeth on edge. He forced a smile and shook the man’s hand. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to yank her back, tuck her under his arm, show this preening jerk whose woman she was. He gave himself a mental shake.

  She is not yours…not yet.

  She frowned at him and he realized he hadn’t taken her cue. He shook his head and started in on the patter that had netted them so many sales today. At one point during their back-and-forth he studied her profile and made a vow to get her back to Grand Rapids tonight. To take her out, show her an amazing time, and cut to the chase once and for all.

  He flinched when a sharp pain pierced his toe. When he realized she was stabbing the top of his foot with her heel he also realized that he’d gone moony again, lost the train of their collective thought on this last crucial stop.

  Finally, she pushed herself off the counter where they were leaning, chatting, tasting and trying to get the bald dude to place a large order. Austin noticed the guy eyeballing her cleavage in a way-too-familiar fashion, sending a lightning bolt of fury down his spine. He shoved his hands into his pockets and decided he no longer cared if this asshole bought a single beer from her. They were done here.

  He stepped back, raised an eyebrow at her glare, and said no more. He was not begging for a sale—mainly because he didn’t care for the way the muscle-bound dude was devouring Evelyn with his eyes.

  Her jaw tightened but he kept his lips zipped, unwilling to rise to her bait and keep up the banter or to acknowledge how fucking furious he was at the man’s reaction to her.

  “So, um, Trent, why don’t I just go back and check your stock real quick? You guys, you know, carry on.” She brushed by him, mumbling under her breath, “Cut the shit, Fitzgerald. Close the damn deal.”

  He frowned at her, then over at the giant ass hat behind the counter, who eyeballed her perfection as she made her way toward the back of the warehouse-like store. The guy dragged his gaze from her backside over to Austin, grinned and shrugged.

  Austin stared at him for about three seconds longer than he cared to, then spoke, “It’s up to you, man. You know this beer will sell. I guess you can keep stringing her along so you can feel her up with your eyes a few more times or we can be out of your hair. Your choice.”

  The guy frowned, then his face broke into a perfectly natural smile, setting Austin back on his heels. “Dude.” He came out from behind the counter, holding out a hand. “Sold. I like your style. And that one”—he nodded toward the swinging doors between the store and cold storage—“is back there waiting for you, best I can tell.”

  Austin opened his mouth to refute the charge. Trent slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t be a pussy, Fitzgerald. I can tell you from direct experience that she’s worth the effort. But, if you’d rather I go back and check on her…”

  Austin leapt out from under the guy’s hand and strode back to the doors, focused on one thing only, every nerve ending he possessed on fire with anticipation.

  Fury pounded in Evelyn’s ears as she glared around the giant cold-storage room. While she took notes on her phone on the various products Trent’s store needed, the realization that Austin had decided to sabotage this last sale of the day kept her pulse racing.

  What was his fucking problem? Was it that obvious she’d gone out with Trent? ‘Gone out’ and let the guy between her legs pretty damn fast. Not that she regretted it. He was hot as shit and great in bed but had way too much baggage, including an ex-wife, a daughter and bit of a bondage fetish she’d never quite gotten into.

  And what about that thing Austin seemed so wigged out about with the German brewery guy? Ross, was it? Was he trying to tell her he preferred to have sex with girls and guys? Jesus. Could this get any weirder?

  They’d been dancing around the edges of flirtation for hours, pulling away at the last minute. Maybe it was up to her to set this thing straight.

  She set her shoulders and pressed her lips together. She had to get this last deal done, head home, and get the hell away from his charisma, his money and power and…hotness.

  It was that or risk heartbreak, she just knew it. Guys like him didn’t give two shits about girls like her. Once they got what they wanted, they were back to the country club and the skinny rich chicks.

  When she took a deep breath, trying to clear the lusty cobwebs from her brain, and turned, Austin grabbed her arms and walked her backward toward a huge stack of wine bottle cases against the wall, his face mere inches from hers. She bit the inside of her cheek, tried to resist, to call on some reserve of sanity. But he was in her space, overwhelming her inner logic, and she loved every minute of it.

  “You are amazingly frustrating,” he whispered, trailing his fingers across her lips.

  “No, I’m not. You’re just obsessed by something you can’t have.”

  He g
rinned, igniting the smoldering pile of lust she’d been nurturing all day. No man on the planet should look this good, be this rich and…smell so damn great.

  She shut her eyes, loving the feel of his entire body pressed against hers. Lips touched her cheek, her jaw, her neck, making her gasp and reach for him. But he gripped her hands and held them over her head against the cardboard. Cold air swirled around them, but nothing would cool the heat now.

  “Dear God, Evelyn, you are…”

  She sighed as he kept her wrists captive overhead and cupped the back of her neck with his other hand.

  “I need to kiss you more than I need to breathe.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” She opened her eyes and let him pin her with that incredible green gaze. “An engraved invitation?”

  “Mmm…no, not exactly.” He caressed her face with his fingertips then trailed them down her neck, finally resting them lightly on the tops of her breasts.

  Stop him, dammit. Don’t be this girl, Evelyn. Remember? He only wants what you won’t give him. When he gets it, he’ll be history.

  But God help her, his touch burned everywhere it landed, making her squirm with need. When he ran his thumb over the hard peak of her nipple through the thin bra and silk shirt, she shivered, a whimper escaping her lips. He kept his touch soft, light, borderline noncommittal, making her crazy, teasing in a way no one had ever done before.

  He shifted, pressed a thigh between her legs, and she gave up in a burst of pulsing erotic energy, tugging her hands free of his grasp and grabbing his face.