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A glance at the clock showed him two hours past closing time. Fucking hell. He really was worn out.
She came around the bar, leaned against it, the cling of her shirt outlining her breasts nicely as she propped an elbow on the counter and laced her fingers beneath them. "So, Quinn Pedraza. Owner of this saloon and the Last Chance Ranch. Good name. Your choice?"
"No. But I liked it." So she'd been finding out things about him while he'd been visiting the sandman. He didn't know if that was good or bad. She excelled at being unreadable, as if she'd spent a long time practicing a poker face. It was a trait of card players, con artists and people who knew the wrong expression could cost them more than they could afford to lose. It was also something people learned to do to cope with the deeper emotions beneath the surface, as if the expression was a dam on emotions too strong to let bust loose.
He knew about strong emotions like that. So much of his childhood and teen years had been chaos. Though he'd been raised on a ranch, he actually hadn't been able to get past the noise to appreciate it, to realize there was a quiet to be found there, in the land. When he finally had figured that out--thanks in large part to Sam's first appearance in his life--he'd decided he wanted to own his own ranch more than anything.
It had taken his years on the rodeo circuit to secure the Last Chance at a bargain price. In the five years since he'd taken it over, he'd worked his ass off building it up, making it a profitable operation again. Only about fifteen hundred of the five thousand acres were actually useable, but the rest of it gave him the privacy he craved, that he hadn't been able to experience during his childhood or on the frenzied rodeo circuit.
From how much of his time was spent in the middle of this disaster, no one would guess how much he wanted that solitude. But here after closing, just her and him, he embraced that sense of being the only folks around. It was the first time he'd had that experience here. Usually he felt a huge weight bearing down on him the minute he crossed the threshold.
The quiet wasn't at odds with the strong sexual heat he felt for her. Not at all.
"Perhaps you should think of selling this place," she said.
"I would if I had a buyer. Believe me. If I just close it up, all these people won't have a place to hang out. We're the only game in town."
"Well." As she studied him, he had the uncomfortable feeling she saw through the partial lie. "It seems to me you have to make some kind of decision or it will be made for you."
"I suppose you think you're the answer to fixing my problems here?"
"I know I am. The question is whether you're the answer to what I'm seeking."
It was a strange way to put it. But he rose. "Why don't we go to my office and talk about that?"
When she nodded, he gestured to her to precede him toward the office hallway. She pushed off the bar and came toward him, filling his nose with her essence again, that aroma of soothing coolness and primitive earth. He had to restrain himself from pouncing on her right then and there. He bet her taste would be delicious and her body would be--
Stop it, you jackass. What in the world is going on here?
When she brushed past him, his body jerked at the contact. He hadn't done that before, but they hadn't been alone before. He slid a glance at her but she didn't seem to notice his reaction. Or have one of her own.
"Sit down," he said brusquely when they reached his office, more order than request. That appeared to be the only way he could keep control of the situation.
"Please," she told him.
"Excuse me?"
"Sit down, please," she repeated with exaggerated patience.
"Please." He gritted out the word. Why did she seem to think she could give him orders? Or rather, why did it feel like he was waiting for her to do just that?
Seating herself in the small chair beside the desk, she crossed her legs. Then she released the tie she'd put on her hair while she was working the bar. Shaking out the golden shimmer of locks brought him a wave of her provocative scent. His gaze latched on to the curve of her hip, the way her buttock pressed into the chair. He could scoop one hand under that firm cheek, put the other hand at her waist and lift her right off her feet. Let her hook her legs around him, slide her down inch by inch along his bare body. She'd feel so damn good against him, all that cool pale skin.
Tease. That was the word that came to mind. Not the only one, but he was going to have to shut down his mind and put his cock in a coma if he wanted to get through this conversation. Looking at her conjured up all kinds of images. Her naked on his bed. Her golden hair spread out around her. Perfect round breasts with rosy nipples begging for his mouth. Legs spread wide so he could feast on her pussy. Would she be shaved or have golden down between her legs? He didn't care as long as slick pink lips tasting of her honey waited.
If he didn't stop this soon he'd have to step outside and take himself in hand.
"Listen." He shifted in front of the desk, allowing his big body to take up most of the small space. It was a tactic he'd used to good advantage in dealing with anyone trying to intimidate him. "I don't know who the hell you are, but my trust isn't the best anymore. You came here, took over my bar--"
She rose right up in front of him. "I didn't take it over." Putting that same finger against his chest, he was surprised to find the pressure strong enough to back him into his desk so he had to sit his ass down on the edge of it or let the digit shish-ke-bob a vital organ. That put her standing solidly between his spread thighs, and put them close to eye level, though he still had some height on her. He caught her wrist in self-defense, though he didn't remove the finger from his chest.
Leaving her wrist in his grasp, she let her gaze course over him in that intimate way, like she was already seeing him sprawled in her bed. That ride was going two ways, for sure.
"I simply kept it from imploding tonight," she said conversationally. "You want me to take it over, I can make you money and give you time to sleep. You're running the ranch during the day and working this place at night. You're plowing yourself into the ground and doing a half-assed job at both."
"Thanks for the news flash. I have a mother already."
"I hope you don't look at your mother the way you're looking at me now."
He surged up off the desk. She gave way gracefully but stayed close. Way too close. "Quit showing off your body. That won't work with me."
The look in her eyes told him she didn't believe a word of what he said. "I think you have bigger problems than my body."
Still in control. She'd been holding the reins from the first, and it didn't annoy him the way it should. Instead, it gave him an odd mix of panic and arousal. He needed to act like a boss. The guy in charge.
"You think being a wiseass is the best way to prove to me how good a bar manager you'd be?"
"If the past few hours didn't prove that, you're not as smart as I assumed you are."
He stared at her then shook his head. His chuckle seemed to surprise her. "Ah, fuck me. Whatever. Let's try this again." He gestured her back into the guest chair. "Sorry, I should have dusted that off first. I don't know the last time it was used. Okay, Miss Know-It-All. Tell me what else you saw tonight that will help me run my place better. Impress me."
She already had, but apparently that was a gift that was about to keep giving. She reclaimed her seat with that sensual flow of motion, crossed her legs again. "As I said earlier, your bartenders are over-pouring, probably costing you about fifty percent of your potential drink profits a night, above and beyond what Artie was stealing. Yes, you only offer bar food so that you don't compete with the two restaurants in town, but there's no reason for it to be drowning in old grease and coming out with no presentation. I can help with that.
"You have presentation problems at the bar too. Your good-quality spirits are hiding in the well instead of placed on the shelving behind it. There's no lighting to really draw people that way either. You could add a fresh coat of paint and some regional decorations th
at would give the place an inexpensive facelift until you can afford something snazzier. You're nearly out of basics like bar napkins and vodka, and that can be fixed by proper supply management."
She lifted a brow. "Shall I keep going?"
"Why not?"
Her eyes narrowed, but she complied. "Your demographic may be small, but they have a good median income and you have the potential of attracting the business of other nearby small towns if you have something better to offer them than their current watering holes.
"Your dance floor is run by an ancient jukebox. It's quaint, but you could keep the facade and install a computerized system with far more selections. As you said, you're the only game in town, and where else are they going to go, but the current setup makes locals reluctant to spend entertainment dollars here. You give them a quality place, they'll drop money, and I bet you might just attract people coming through town as well. Offer better food, occasional live entertainment and a fun drink list that's more than just whiskey and Coke, and warm draft beer--by the way, your cooling lines need to be checked--you'll do better on your bottom line.
"Your bartender and cook are hard workers," she said. "They're just slow and need training. Your other girl can be taught how to pour a decent drink, if she's as eager to please as Maria. Once they realize a good bartender can get better tips than a bad one, no matter the size of her rack, that will be a good incentive, though Maria's not lazy. She's just young and has lacked proper supervision."
Pretty much what he'd realized tonight, thanks to her temporary management. She stopped, leveled those killer blue eyes on him. "That's plenty. You already know I'm an experienced bar manager who knows what I'm doing. I need a job and you need me."
"Correction. I know you can handle being a bar manager. But I don't know dick about you as a human being yet, and that's part of this job too."
A surprising yet very appealing twinkle passed through her gaze. "I might not qualify in that regard."
"Let me be the judge of that. What's your full name?"
