“Roger, you are such an unbelievable catch—you don’t need me to sell you to this guy. Those chocolate eyes, mocha skin, and panty-melting smile do the job all on their own—not to mention you’re brilliant and, of course, there’s your promising future as a bazillionaire. If this guy doesn’t fall on the ground and worship at your feet, then he’s an idiot, and you should ditch him on the spot.”
Roger flashed her another smile. “You’re too good to me.”
“Stop that,” she said, pretending to scowl. “My panties are melting already.”
“Hmmm...I’m strangely turned on and horrified all at the same time.”
“You’re not the first guy to say that to me,” she said, laughing as she moved toward the register at the center of the bar. “Can you take over service for a while. The wait staff is doing great pushing the drink special, but if I have to make another freaking mojito, I’m going to lose it.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Yay, Roger!” Brandi beamed, jumping up on the service counter to give her new bartender a kiss on the lips. “Now our drinks will come out on time.” Then she called out to Savannah. “No offense, Savvy.”
“None taken,” Savannah shot back, flashing Brandi a smile.
Esme appeared behind Brandi. “Hi Roger!”
Roger’s eyes widened. “Look at you, girl. I have more hair than you now. Are we paying homage to the musical stylings of Sinead O’Connor?”
Esme winked at Savannah. “Actually, I’m leaving soon to take a six week sojourn in a Buddhist temple in Bhutan.”
Roger threw his head back, laughing. “I’m gonna have to call your bullshit. Bhutan restricts tourism. No one is allowed to visit for six weeks.”
“Savannah!” Esme said accusingly.
Savannah just shook her head. “Don’t worry, only Roger and his off the charts IQ is going to know that...and geographers...and the occasional anthropologist, but what are the chances of an anthropologist coming here for a plate of fish and chips?”
Roger reached over the service bar and squeezed Esme tight. “I know why you shaved your head. I’m proud of you, and you’ve never looked lovelier.”
Tears flooded Esme’s eyes. “Thanks, Roger.”
“Less talking, more drink making,” Joe said, appearing at the bar, looking fiendishly handsome in a tailored jacket over a crisp white button-down. Brandi and Esme hastened away, holding drink-laden trays above their shoulders.
“Greetings, your majesty,” Roger said, bending in a mock bow.
Joe smiled, his painfully gorgeous smile.
“He actually is royalty,” Roger said to the pretty red head sitting on the bar stool in front of him.
“Really?” she said, hope filling her gaze. She turned and smiled at Joe, patting the empty seat next to hers. “Tell me more.”
Joe smiled and offered the woman his arm. “It’s a beautiful night. Join me out on the balcony.”
Without hesitation, the woman slid her arm through Joe’s. “Keep up the good work,” he said, flashing Roger a smile.
“You’re welcome,” Roger called out. Then he turned to Savannah, “How can one man be so slick and such a freaking moron?”
“That sums up Joe perfectly—well, if you also added womanizing asshole somewhere in your question. You didn’t do that woman any favors.”
“You’re wrong. Nothing sucks more than being stood up.”
“How about being tossed aside after three dates.”
Roger shrugged. “Joe could always surprise us. Maybe she’s his ‘Ms. Right’.”
“Yeah, Ms. Right out the door.”
Roger cupped his hands and shouted after their boss, his voice carrying over the din of the packed bar. “Hey Joe, I’ll be at your house later to steal your newest royal heirloom.”
Joe flashed Roger another smile before leading his newest conquest upstairs.
Savannah stiffened. “What are you talking about? What royal heirloom?”
Roger raised a brow at her. “Didn’t you see his Facebook post a couple weeks ago about his great uncle dying?”
Savannah shook her head. “You know I’m not a social media girl.”
“Joe posted a photo of himself standing next to a painting his uncle left him in his will. It’s hanging in his living room above the mantle.”
Savannah shrugged, trying to appear only partially interested. “Sounds like typical Joe. I bet he posts those workout selfies to show off his abs, too.”
Roger smiled. “I see nothing wrong with those, but you’re missing my point. I looked into it. The painting is worth a lot of money.”
“How much are we talking?”
“I don’t know, maybe a million dollars, and there it is for anyone to see.” Roger started waving his hands in the air and continued in an attention-seeking tone. “Hey, look at me and my priceless painting, and here is exactly where interested parties can find it, in case any thieves are looking for a good art heist.”
Her heart drummed in her ears. Now, she knew what Damien must have been planning to steal.
“I’ll take another,” a guy with a medium build in a navy Polo shirt said from the corner of the bar, drawing her attention. Happy for the distraction, she nearly sprinted toward him.
“You got it,” she said, whisking his empty away.
He looked at her through trendy, horn-rimmed glasses. “Just another lager.”
She pulled a chilled pint glass from the cooler and poured his drink. “Here you go,” she said, placing it down in front of him.
He smiled, revealing an adorable gap in his front teeth. “Keep the change.”
She turned to the register and cashed out the bill, putting the change in the tip jar. It was then she noticed, they were low on quarters. Lifting the drawer out, she reached toward the back to grab a new roll.
“Can I order a drink?” someone said behind her.
“Yeah, just give me a minute,” she called out impatiently, straining to reach the roll that was lodged in the back.
“Thanks, Savannah.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and whirled around, the quarters forgotten, along with every other thought in her head.
Piercing amber-brown eyes locked with hers. She swallowed hard.
Dear God above, he was gorgeous.
Damien’s dark hair fell carelessly across his brow. His strong chin was sprinkled with dark stubble. His lips were so full and soft and so very kissable.
“What are you doing here—” she’d started to say, walking away from the register, but she’d forgotten the drawer was balancing on the edge. It fell to the ground with a clatter.
“Oh, crap,” she said, blushing.
“You, okay,” Roger asked, glancing over his shoulder at her, two finished mojitos in his hands.
“Yes,” she said, bending over to pick up the coins that had fallen out. She stood straight and slid the drawer back in place, then shut the register. “I’m fine.”
Roger gave her a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”
“Yup. Totally fine. Better than fine,” she said, glancing at her thief. Then she turned away and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart, but when she caught her reflection in the mirror that lined the back of the bar, she grimaced.
“Damn it,” she whispered as she quickly smoothed her blond curls that had gone all frizzy. Grabbing a cocktail napkin, she blotted the moisture from her face. Then she seized her lip gloss near the register and dabbed a little on before turning around to face Damien.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly, not knowing what to do with her hands. “I didn’t... you know...” She tucked her hair behind her ear again. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I thought I’d surprise you,” he said, his voice deep and silky.
She smiled tremulously. “It worked.”
Roger slid next to her and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, smiling at Damien. “Hi, gorgeous.”
Damien smiled and offered his hand to Roger. “I’m Dam
ien. It’s nice to meet you.”
Roger shook his hand. “Good grip,” he said to Savannah. “I like that. Take your break, boss.”
Savannah raised her brow at him. “The rush is about to start.”
Roger’s gaze held hers. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
She smiled. “I know you can.”
Roger pointed to an unclaimed two-top in the corner. “Take this gorgeous man and go sit down. I’ll call you over if I need you. And when my guy comes in later, you can do me the same favor.”
Savannah lifted her shoulders and smiled at Damien. “I guess I’m taking a break.”
“Thank you,” Damien said, nodding his head to Roger.
Roger smiled, but then his smile vanished. He straightened to his impressive full height and flexed his well-muscled neck from side to side. “Be nice to her or I’ll fuck you up.” Savannah watched as Roger held Damien’s unreadable gaze. An instant later another smile appeared on Roger’s face. “I’m just joking, lover.” Then his smile gave way to a fierce scowl, furrowing his black brows. “No, I’m not.”
“That’s plenty, Roger!” Savannah hurried around the bar and took Damien’s hand, leading him toward the empty table. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” he replied. “I like knowing you have someone watching your back.”
“Roger’s always been my champion. The only villain he can’t save me from is myself.” A slight smile curved her lips. “Then again, Roger and I have the same taste in men. He needs saving as much as I do.”
Damien’s gaze shifted over her head. “I believe your friends are lining up to wipe the floor with me.”
“What do you mean?” Savannah turned to look behind her. Sure enough, Wally and Brandi were standing in the door of the bar, staring at them. Savannah motioned them over. “What are you guys doing?”
Wally narrowed his gaze on Damien. “We were just making sure everything was cool.”
“Damien, this is Wally, our head chef and Brandi, my best friend.”
Damien motioned to the table next to them. “Pull up a chair and join us.”
Savannah smiled but shook her head. “We’re filling up. Wally needs to get back to the line before all hell breaks loose.”
Wally leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
As Wally headed back to the kitchen, Brandi reached for a chair. “I don’t mind if I do.”
“What about your tables?” Savannah asked.
“All good,” came her quick reply. “So...I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” she said, giving Savannah a pointed look.
“Sorry,” Savannah grimaced. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I’ve been a little busy.”
“I know,” Brandi began. “I mean you’ve barely left the restaurant for days. How did you two even meet?”
Damien turned and smiled at Savannah. “Go ahead, honey, tell her how we met?”
She raised a coy brow at him. “Gladly,” she said sweetly. Then she turned to Brandi. “I haven’t had any time to do laundry. So, a few mornings ago, I ran into Victoria’s Secret to pick up a new bra, and Damien came up to me and asked whether I thought he was too hippy for a thong.”
Damien threw his head back with laughter. He caught Brandi’s eye. “You look skeptical. Why? Do you think I can’t pull off a thong?”
“You’re both full of shit,” Brandi said, throwing a handful of peanuts at them. “If you want to keep how you met to yourselves, that’s fine.” Once again, her gaze settled on Damien. “How about you tell me where you’re from?”
“Here and there. I’m former military so I’ve lived in a lot of places.”
Brandi raised her brow at him. “Because I’m grateful for your service, I’ll accept your answer, but don’t think I’m not aware of how vague you’re both being. Let’s try another...what do you do for work?”
Damien took a sip of his drink before answering in his effortlessly smooth voice, “I’m in acquisitions.”
Brandi seemed to consider him. He held her unwavering gaze with gentle ease. At length, Brandi said, “So he’s vague but smart.” She ran her finger over Damien’s watch. “Well-to-do, and gorgeous.” She smiled her approval at Savannah and stood. “Don’t let Joe see him. He’ll get all jealous and turn into an asshole.”
After Brandi left to check on her tables, Savannah turned to Damien. “Acquisitions?”
He shrugged. “She seemed satisfied.”
“You can be very convincing.”
“Can I convince you to leave?”
She shook her head. “No, but I might be persuaded to meet up later. Where are you staying? I can head to yours after work.”
“I have a better idea. I’ll pick you up. There’s a place I discovered today. I want to take you there.” He leaned close. “When will you be home?” He kissed her, slowly, tenderly, before she could answer.
When he pulled away, looking at her expectantly, it took her a moment to remember his question. “Eleven,” she said breathlessly and closed her eyes as he once more leaned close, his lips claiming hers.
Chapter Eleven
Savannah hugged Damien’s waist as they wound through narrow roads on the back of a vintage Harley. Passing clusters of small beach cottages, they drove out onto Route 1A, a winding thoroughfare that hugged the curves of the coastline. The moon hovered low over the ocean. With her cheek resting against his back, she watched the frothy waves race toward shore and savored the feel of his warmth, his closeness, and the thrill of the ride.
She was surprised when he slowed down and turned onto a gravel-walking trail lined with willow trees. They reached a gate with a No Trespassing sign, but Damien just steered around it. At the bottom of the trail, he parked and turned the bike off. A beautiful expanse of beach stretched out before them. The sand shone silvery in the moonlight, and the softly lapping waves were a deep midnight blue fringed with silver froth.
She turned away from the magnificent view. “It’s beautiful, Damien, but this is a private beach.”
“I don’t believe in private beaches.” His voice was velvety smooth.
Her gaze darted nervously up at the nearby multi-million dollar homes. “Your personal ideologies aside, it’s still private. They could see us and call the police.”
“Don’t worry. I checked it out. Those houses are empty.”
“How do you know that?”
“They’re owned by prominent families from New York. To them, these are rustic cottages they visit the last week of August. For the rest of the year, they’re forgotten, along with this beautiful strip of shoreline.”
“Yeah, but we’re still trespassing.”
“True, but only because they’re too greedy to open it up to residents. Consider this an exercise in civil disobedience.”
“Are you Gandhi now?”
“No, I’m just some guy who wanted to surprise his girl with a romantic walk on the beach. There’s no finer strip of coast in New Hampshire. Anyway, just because someone has money, it doesn’t give them permission to be an asshole.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “I have money. I’m not an asshole.”
“You’re a thief!”
He smiled. “All right, so I’m a partial asshole.”
“Are you rich?”
“Filthy.”
“Gross or truly disgusting.”
“Truly disgusting.”
“Can I see where you live?”
“No,” he answered without skipping a beat. “I don’t live anywhere, at least not permanently.”
Her shoulders tensed. “Where are you staying then?”
“Here and there,” he answered.
Bad boy alert!
Why wouldn’t he tell her which hotel he was staying at? Probably because he had a penthouse suite with a harem of gorgeous models at his disposal.
“Why are you frowning?” he asked.
“Why are you being so secretive?”
His lips c
urved in a slight smile. He squeezed her hand. “Remember what I told you. No one knows where I live.”
“No one?” she asked skeptically.
He nodded.
She raised her brow at him. “Not even your string of other women?”
He took her hand and pulled her close. “There are no other women, Savannah.” He slowly lowered his head, gently pressing his lips to hers. The whisper-soft caress made her breath catch. Then he deepened his kiss, his tongue claiming hers with languid, rhythmic strokes that sparked a sweet ache deep within her. Her heart started to pound, and then a new sensation intruded upon her burgeoning desire. Something was vibrating against her leg. He pulled away and reached into his pocket.
“Is that a pager?”
He nodded and looked at the little screen before putting it back in his pocket.
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know people still used those.”
He cupped her cheek. “I have to go.”
Her stomach dropped out. A sudden sense of foreboding made her chest tighten. “Is there any point in my asking where you’re going?”
“Only if you want to be an accomplice to a crime.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m joking. I just have to make a call.”
She pulled out her cell phone. “You can use mine, if you don’t have one.”
“Thank you, but I have a special phone I’d rather use.” He stood up and offered her his hand.
She slid her hand into his. “And by special, you mean untraceable.”
He shrugged and gave her a lazy smile that made her knees weak. “I’ll take you home.”
From her front door, she watched him get on his bike and drive away. When she lost sight of him, she grabbed her keys off her side table and rushed out the door.
“I’ve lost my mind,” she muttered as she got behind the wheel. It was a quiet night. She wished it was busier so that she could stay closer to him, but she trailed back, making sure she only glimpsed his bike when he turned through the side streets. Once they cleared the coast, passing into the business district, the roads stretched out, growing wide.
After a half an hour, the affluence of the seacoast gave way to one of the old mill towns, once prosperous hubs of the working class, but no longer. The factories and workers had been abandoned for cheap labor overseas. The mills were either crumbling or had been turned into industrial-chic apartments for yuppies.
Broken Rules: A Stand Alone Romance Page 7
