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“Why?” I scowl at him. “Not everyone needs five million dollar apartments and fancy sports cars to be happy.”
He frowns at me. “I know that. I meant that this place doesn’t exactly suit your talents, does it?”
“You have no idea what my talents are,” I snap.
A wicked grin spreads across his face. “Actually, I remember exactly what your talents are, Angel. The memories keep me warm at night.”
Heat sears between my thighs and I have to remind my treacherous body that we hate Conor Ryan and his brothers. “How the hell did you find me?” I say, trying to change the subject.
“With great difficulty,” he grinds out the words as though it pains him to say them.
“Well, I obviously didn’t do a good enough job of covering my tracks.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls. “I left less than two hours after you did, and it’s taken me two months to find you.”
I suck in a deep breath, momentarily winded by his revelation. I had assumed they were all happy to see the back of me. I’m not one of them — that was what Shane said. “You came right after me?” I whisper.
“Of course I did. That was always the plan. I told you that I would burn the world down to find you, Jessie. Didn’t you believe me?”
“Ryan?” a voice hollers from the other side of the bar and both Conor and I glance over at my boss, Ray. “If you ain’t gonna serve the guy, then I got plenty of work to keep you busy!”
I roll my eyes and turn back to Conor.
“Ryan?” he narrows those chocolate brown eyes at me and my insides melt like butter that’s been left out in the Arizona heat.
“Hiding in plain sight,” I say with a shrug as the heat flushes over my chest. Damn! What the hell had I been thinking choosing that name as my new identity. “Anyway,” I go on before he can press me further, but there is a grin on his face that I just know is going to take some time to fade. “As you can see, I’m working here. So, either order a drink, or be on your way.”
“You got any good whiskey?”
“Plenty. But we got no Jameson’s,” I say, aware that’s his favorite. “We have nothing Irish in this whole bar. Not until you rolled in. And I like it that way.”
“You’re here.” He licks his lips again and a memory of him doing magical things to me with that tongue flashes into the forefront of my brain before making a direct path straight to my pussy.
“I’m not Irish. Not even a little bit. I have Russian parents and I was born and raised right here in the USA.” I arch an eyebrow at him.
He leans across the bar and instinct makes me lean toward him. I regret it immediately when I realize how damn incredible he smells. “You’ve had so much Irish in you, I’m surprised you’re not talking Gaelic,” he says in a low rumble that vibrates through my whole body.
I draw in a sharp breath as a rush of heat sears between my thighs. Jesus! If I wasn’t hot enough before. My panties are going to melt if I stand here talking to him much longer. “Drink?” is all I can trust myself to say.
“If you’ve got no Jameson’s, I’ll take a glass of your finest Scotch,” he grins as he sits back.
I pour him a glass of the cheapest Scotch we have and place it on the bar in front of him. He takes a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and places it down on the bar. “Keep the change, Angel.”
I roll my eyes and take his money and pocket his change. Well, a girl has to eat.
“What time does your shift end?” he says as he takes a sip of the cheap whisky and winces.
“None of your business.”
“I’ll just hang around until you're done, then. So, why don’t you fetch me a glass of that twelve year single malt you have up there?” He glances up at the top shelf.
“Oh, I can’t serve you that.” I shake my head.
“Why not?” he frowns.
“That’s reserved for people I actually like.” I sling the bar towel over my shoulder and flash him my biggest smile before I sashay down to the other end of the bar to serve another customer. I can almost feel his eyes burning into my ass and I’m so glad I wore my denim mini skirt today.
Chapter
