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“Russ, two glasses of eighteen for the ladies, neat,” he said in that smooth, chocolaty baritone of his.
“Belay that order, Russ,” I said quickly. “We’ll have more of the same.”
“Ex-Navy?” Liam asked. He cocked an eyebrow.
“No. I just watch a lot of TV.” I thought it sounded more authoritative the way I’d said it.
Russ paused a moment to see if Liam was going to overrule me. He didn’t. “One margarita and one Moscow mule coming up.”
“Turning down good whiskey?” Liam asked me.
I lifted myself onto the barstool. “I don't want you to think you can buy me that easily.”
He cocked his head. “A principled lady. I like that. What shall we talk about?”
“Who said we're talking?” I asked.
“That's why you came over here, isn’t it?”
The heat of another blush simmered in my cheeks. The man was a mind reader.
“You took a seat instead of walking back to your table with your friend, so I'm assuming that's an invitation to talk.”
He made it all sound so logical, so transparent. I had meant to be subtle and failed.
“You first, Liam,” I said. “What are you doing here? Drowning your troubles? Did she stand you up? Did your stock take a pounding today? Get fired?”
He laughed lightly. “No. Nothing like that. They can't fire me; I'm the boss, but it doesn't mean I have all the answers. I was just trying to think through a personal problem wrapped in a business one.”
“Tell me the truth,” I challenged him. “Why so glum?”
His brows furrowed. “Are we really going to play truth or dare?” he asked.
“You chicken?” It escaped my mouth before I had a chance to consider my words.
“Okay. I don't want a friend I work with to lose his job, and I'm not quite sure how to solve the problem.”
“You’re the boss, don’t fire him,” I suggested.
“The problem is more complicated than that.”
Russ handed me my frozen margarita.
I moved my hand on the bar part way across the distance between me and Liam. “You're not from around here are you?”
He took another sip of his scotch. “California actually. What gave it away? The accent?”
I sipped my drink. “Well, you certainly don't know how to paahk yaah caah in Haahvaahd Yaahd.” I said with my most exaggerated Boston twang.
“Yeah, the accent eludes me, so I guess I’ll always be marked as an outsider.”
“No doubt. Just passing through?” I asked, hoping for a yes. That would ensure we didn’t meet up again if I ever got as far as Vivienne expected me to.
“Here to stay now. I’m just a few blocks away on Tremont.” Tremont was an expensive neighborhood. It cost a lot to border the Common.
I sipped my drink, unsure what to ask next. Vivienne hadn’t provided a script.
His eyes heated my blood again. “Your turn, Amy. What did you want to ask me?”
