As Bad As Can Be (16 page)

 

B
OATS BOBBED AT DOCKSIDE
as they walked into the marina. Becka led the way toward the slip where
Squeeze Play
was docked. It was a sleek thirty-five-foot sloop with smooth lines and polished mahogany on the top. “Becka, it's gorgeous,” Mallory breathed, staring at the sleek white boat.

Mace Duvall looked up from where he was polishing brightwork and waved. His sun-streaked hair was disheveled and hung over his eyes, which were an unusual warm brown the shade of aged whiskey.

“So's he,” Becka replied with a little jitter to her voice. “My God, how did I ever get so lucky?”

“Afternoon, ladies,” Mace drawled as they neared. “Don't just stand there, come on aboard.”

Becka stepped from the dock to the boat and Mace immediately swung her into his arms, kissing her noisily.

“Stop it,” she said, pushing at him halfheartedly. “We've got company.”

“She understands,” Mace said, glancing over at a grinning Mallory. “New husband prerogative.”

Mallory stepped carefully onto the softly swaying boat and walked over to give Mace a hug. “Congratulations, Mr. Landon,” she said, bussing him on the cheek. “You've got great taste in women.”

“You've got it half right,” Becka said, linking her fingers with Mace's. “I'm still Ms. Landon, he's still Mr. Duvall. It just seemed too weird to change my
name at this point. I mean, I've had the name for almost thirty years.”

“You get no arguments from me,” Mallory said.

“Saves getting a new driver's license and passport,” Mace observed.

Becka grinned. “I'm all for efficiency.”

“So give me the tour.”

It took longer than she expected to clamber over the boat. Mace had obviously gone first class when he'd bought it and kept it up—the mahogany deck and panels gleamed with soft luster, the sails were pristine white, the brightwork glittered. The belowdecks area was surprisingly roomy and cleverly designed to pack the most stuff into the least space.

“She's wonderful,” Mallory said reverently.

“Sails like a dream, too,” Mace said. “We should get you out on the water while we're here.”

“Absolutely,” Becka chimed in. “What are you doing tomorrow? Better yet, what are you and Shay doing tomorrow?”

“Shay?” Mace asked with interest.

“Mallory's new fellow.”

“Ah. Do I get to inspect him like an honorary big brother?”

“He's my big brother's friend, so he's already passed. Anyway, he's not my fellow,” Mallory said quickly.

Becka rolled her eyes. “You want me to say ‘new friend' like my mother does?”

“Whoever he is, Mallory, invite him along,” Mace said, fighting a grin. “We can go out through the harbor and up the coast a bit.”

“I'll take care of lunch,” Becka offered.

Mallory wrinkled her nose. “You're not going to feed us tofu burgers or anything like that, are you?”

“Not if she expects me to eat it, we won't,” Mace said.

“I'm only trying to look out for your health,” Becka said with dignity.

“I'd rather worry about my taste buds, thanks,” Mallory returned. “Listen, thanks for the invite. Definitely count me in. I'll see if Shay can get loose and join us.” She paused and gave Becka a suspicious look. “As long as you promise not to grill him.”

“Who, us?” they said in concert, then grinned at each other.

Mallory rolled her eyes. “Oh God, you're already starting this married telepathy thing. What's next, baby and the baby carriage?”

Mace swept an arm around Becka and scooped her toward him. “Maybe,” he said, grinning down at her. “Maybe.”

 

S
HAY SAT AT HIS DESK
, trying without much success to concentrate on filling out orders for the following week. Normally he had them faxed in days ahead of deadline. This time around, he was just going to get in under the wire.

Assuming he got it done at all.

He blew out a breath of frustration. Ordering mixers and olives was about the last thing he cared about doing. What he wanted more than anything was to talk with Mallory, to find out just what the hell was going through her head.

When he'd awoken that morning, he'd reached for her and found only cool sheets. He'd looked for her and found only a note. It was one of the times he
cursed his sense of responsibility. He'd wanted to scour the town until he found her; instead he'd found himself at O'Connor's doing prep and supervising.

Jumping to conclusions was a dangerous business, he reminded himself, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The night before, she'd opened up to him like never before, and she'd broken down. The disappearing act was no accident, he was certain. The question was how to keep her from bolting.

His first impulse was to find her and hold on to her, but it was no more appropriate than giving ultimatums. Now was the time he had to work hardest not to hold on but to leave it up to her. Besides, he couldn't do anything until he finished his overdue paperwork. He stifled his impatience and punched numbers into his calculator.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said brusquely.

The door swung open and Mallory walked in. Her loose, dark hair was beaded with mist, as was the raincoat she wore. She pushed the door closed behind her and looked at him. “Feel like taking a break?”

“Have a seat. There's a coatrack in the corner.”

“I'll keep it on for now, thanks.” Mallory dropped into the visitor's chair.

Shay looked at her steadily, drinking in the image. How was it that he hadn't even known she'd existed a month ago, and now so much of his world was centered on her? “I missed you this morning,” he said softly.

Her eyes flickered to one side. “I figured I'd catch up with you later.”

“And now here you are.”

“Here I am,” she agreed. A tension vibrated in her voice. It was subtle, but it put him on edge.

Mallory moistened her lips. “Look, I'm sorry I unloaded all that stuff on you last night. You were really wonderful about it.”

Something tightened like a fist in his gut. “It wasn't a hardship. That's what you do when you care for someone.”

“It's not something I'm in the habit of doing. You made it easy.”

How could he tell her how much it meant that she'd trusted him enough to talk about it? Listening to her had torn at him, holding her while she'd wept had broken his heart. When they'd drifted off together, it had felt as though they'd fused together in some indefinable way. Waking alone had filled him with loss.

Mallory drew in a breath with the air of a soldier about to dive into the breach. “When I woke up this morning, I didn't know how to feel about it. I didn't know what to say to you. So I left.”

He looked at her steadily. “I know.”

She flushed. “This isn't easy for me, Shay. I did it wrong this morning, and I'll probably do it again. But I do care about you,” she said desperately, staring into his eyes. “And I want this to keep going.” There, she'd done it, she thought, her heart pounding as though she'd run a quarter mile.

Shay rose to circle around the desk to crouch in front of her. “You mean the world to me,” he said simply, capturing her hands and bringing them to his lips. “I have no intention of doing without you.”

“And what do you have the intention to do with me?” she asked, with a gleam in her eye, leaning in to press her mouth against his.

A
DVERTISING WAS A WONDER
, Mallory thought as she looked out over the people filling Bad Reputation. She'd been a little uneasy about losing money on the live music initially before it began paying for itself in cover charges or increased drinks sales. Now it looked like she'd worried for naught. She crossed over to check with Benny at the door.

“How we doing, Benny?”

“You should be a happy woman.” he smiled. “We're at about three quarters capacity and climbing.”

“Whatever you do, don't go over our max rating. If the fire marshal's going to stop by any night, it'll be tonight. We can't afford to get a violation.”

“Don't worry, I'm keeping an eye on the numbers,” he said with a wink, holding up his chrome hand counter. “Leave it to me, boss lady.”

Before she could turn away, she heard her name called from the street and Fiona came walking up. Mallory whistled. Either Fiona had gone shopping or she had one hell of a secret life. The red mini she wore looked painted on, the skimpy camisole above it was patterned with silver shooting stars. Her red hair, always pulled back decorously now curled wildly down to the middle of her back. Silver stilettos
gleamed on her feet, matching the long silver drops that twisted at her ears.

“Well, if you aren't a sight to behold,” Mallory said.

“Is this sexy enough?” Fiona asked anxiously. “I wasn't sure what to wear.”

“I don't know, Benny, is it sexy enough?” Mallory asked. “Benny?” Catching the poleaxed look on her doorman's face, she patted Fiona on the shoulder. “I think it'll work. Come on, I'll show you around.”

Benny wasn't the only one who noticed the new and improved Fiona. The trip from the door to the bar took twice as long as normal, as half a dozen would-be swains tossed out lines. “Laugh and ignore it,” Mallory instructed. “Remember the rules—no dating customers, no matter what. Flirt all you like, but it ends there.”

“Got it,” Fiona nodded, teetering on her heels. Finally they reached the walkthrough and ducked behind the bar.

“That's Belinda, Kayla, and Liane,” Mallory said, pointing to the bartenders in succession. “We have two taps for each kind of beer, and the mixers are in the cabinets below the liquor. We keep the kegs in a cold room in the cellar. If you've got a tap that's running out, flag Randy, the guy in the Red Sox hat. He's our bar back, he'll take care of things.”

Fiona smoothed down her skirt. “Well, time to start serving, then?”

Her words were drowned out by the whoops from the crowd as Kayla and Liane stepped up onto the bar to dance to Bonnie Raitt's “Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About.” Swinging their hips to the music, they prowled around one another, then strutted out
to the far ends of the bar, playing the crowd, keeping time with their snapping fingers.

Fiona swallowed. “I don't have to do that, do I?”

Mallory laughed. “Hardly. Liane and Kayla are in a class of their own. You get up there and do whatever you like.”

“So, is there, um, a schedule for dancing?” Fiona asked faintly.

Mallory shook her head. “No, just whenever the mood takes you. The steps to get up are over by the brass pole.” She pointed, then took another look at Fiona's face. “Fee, there's nothing that says you have to do this. You've got a perfectly good job. You can even serve drinks here without dancing. The other three are hams enough they won't mind.”

“No, really, I'm looking forward to it,” Fiona said uneasily, eyes fixed on the dancing women and the crowd of men watching avidly from below. “Maybe I'll just watch a bit, first, though. I—” She did a double take and her smile slipped. “The band is playing tonight?” she asked hotly.

“Yes. Is that going to be a problem?”

Fiona stared at the bandstand. “No. I just thought it was next week is all. It'll be fine.” She raised her chin. “Do I just go up on the bar?”

“Only if you're sure you want to. This isn't a test, you know.”

“Oh, I want to,” Fiona assured her, eyes suddenly bright as she turned to the stairs.

Mallory turned back to serving, fighting the sudden urge to plug her ears against the inevitable explosion.

 

C
OLIN UNROLLED THE EXTENSION
cord to the wall and plugged it in. That was pretty much it, he figured,
surveying the stage with his hands on his hips. Luckily they'd thought to set up the sound board earlier in the evening. With all the noise, there was no way they'd have been able to do a sound check.

A whoop from the bar area had him craning his neck around to see the source of the excitement. One of the perks of playing at a place like Bad Reputation was being able to watch gorgeous women dance all night, he thought. A guy could do worse than get paid for it.

He watched a mouthwatering redhead slide up and down the brass pole, teasing the crowd with her willowy body and her smile of promise. That one there, he thought. A man could get ridiculous over a face like that. He could find himself coming back night after night for the chance to imagine stripping the clothes off of her, of seeing her naked in bed wearing just that provocative smile.

A smile that looked familiar, now that he thought about it. A smile that held a hint of devilry, the same way as Fiona's did.

Fiona?

His eyes widened in shock.

 

S
HE'D EXPECTED TO BE MORE
nervous, with a roomful of people looking at her, but with the beat of the music drumming through her veins, she only felt sexy and confident. Making eye contact with one rapt face after another, she moved down the bar, now teasing, now tempting, now spinning away. As the music reached toward its climax, she shimmied her hips and lifted her hair up onto the crown of her head, eyes half closed in enjoyment.

“What in the hell do you think you're doing?” a voice roared at her.

Fiona's eyes snapped open. Red-faced and furious, Colin stood directly below her, staring up in outrage. She released her hair and spun then ran a hand over her hip, giving him a defiant look. As the song ended, she moved down the bar, leaving him behind even as the applause began.

“Good job, kid,” Belinda called as she walked down the steps.

On the ground, Fiona began filling drink orders, her hands a blur of motion.

“I'm in love with you. Will you marry me?” asked a tall, lanky guy with an eyebrow ring.

“Oh, 'tis a fine offer but I'm sure I'm promised already,” she said.

“And she's got an accent to boot. That shattering sound you just heard was my heart breaking,” he said mournfully.

“How about a drink to numb the pain?” she said, with a wink.

“A shot of Glen Fidditch, then, in honor of your home.”

“Well I'm Irish, not Scottish, but I'll take it as it's meant,” she tossed back, setting a shot glass on the bar.

And then Colin was in front of her. “I want to talk to you,” he snapped.

“That's funny,” she said coolly, reaching for the bottle of Scotch. “I have absolutely no desire to talk with you.”

“Hey pal, get in line, here,” said her admirer.

Swiftly Colin moved behind the bar and tugged
Fiona's wrist to pull her into the back room. Her yelp of surprise was drowned out by the slamming of the door.

 

M
ALLORY STARED AT
Fiona as she burst out of the back room. Twin spots of color burned in the girl's otherwise pale face.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, it's splendid, I am,” she snapped, stabbing viciously at the ice in the ice bin. “Why shouldn't I be, just because I've been humiliated by an idjit who doesn't want me but doesn't want anyone else to, either.”

Her voice shook, with anger or anguish, Mallory couldn't tell. Sometimes one was practically the same thing as the other, she thought. Out of the corner of her eye, Mallory noticed Colin leave the back room and head toward the dance floor.

“Listen,” she said, laying a sympathetic hand on Fiona's trembling shoulder. “We need some more popcorn for the snack bowl. You want to go in the back and make some?”

Fiona gave her a look filled with relief. “Thanks,” she said gratefully.

A fine mess, Mallory thought, watching her go through the door to the back bar. Reminding herself that it was between Fiona and Colin didn't help. She'd known better than to hire Fiona, but then she'd found herself caught up in sympathy for the girl, who was every bit as trapped by stereotypes as she herself had been.

Mallory sighed. It was anyone's guess what Shay would think when he walked in later. For all that any reasonable bar owner knew that staff constantly hopped from establishment to establishment, she had
a funny feeling that he would take Fiona's defection a little more personally. Granted, Fiona was still giving him full notice by working at O'Connor's while moonlighting for Mallory, but she was willing to bet that it still wouldn't set well. And she had a really funny feeling that he wouldn't take the sight of Fiona dancing any better than Colin had.

It was Fiona's decision, not theirs, she reminded herself. They'd get over it. It wasn't fair to Fiona to let their opinions and preferences control what happened to her. They could just learn to deal with it, she told herself firmly. Or maybe she could have a few words with Colin to calm him down, she thought.

Mallory ducked back out into the chaos. She tried to work her way over to the stage area, fighting through the press of bodies. Once she had a couple of minutes to calm Colin down, she was sure he'd see reason.

Before she could reach him, though, a few thumps from the bass drum had everyone looking up as the band launched into its opening number. The tune was catchy blues rock with an irresistible beat. Soon, bodies were crowded on the dance floor.

Mallory turned to head back to the bar, working her way between people and watching the band as she walked. They were really quite good, she thought as they wound up their first number and launched into something hooky but unfamiliar. An original? she wondered.

“Watch where you're going, idiot. You just spilled my beer!” Over near the bar, a group of rowdy frat boys had stumbled into a blue collar type, who'd been raptly watching Belinda dance. He was now glaring at the frat boys, and looked both older and brawnier than
they did. That didn't stop the smallest of them, a scrappy, pugnacious redhead, from getting in his face.

Instantly Mallory stepped in.

“Hey, guys, hold it down, okay? I don't want to have to show you the street, so let's just relax and watch the band.” Hoping her veiled threat sank home, she turned to the brawny guy. “If he spilled your beer, come on up to the bar and I'll get you a replacement.”

The problem defused temporarily, Mallory craned her neck to find the bouncer and alert him to watch the group. The whole room was bobbing to the music now, a solid wall of people. She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the walkthrough.

“Mallory,” Belinda tapped her shoulder. “There's a leak in one of the keg lines. Randy's down in the basement looking at it.”

“Damned rats,” Mallory muttered as she hustled down to the cellar, all thoughts of finding the bouncer completely out of her head. She'd set out every kind of trap known to man, but they still came back, lured by the barley and malt scent of beer. Now, she and Randy would have to shut down the line, find the leak, and repair it before they'd be back in business. On a Saturday night, she wasn't taking chances.

Reaching and patching the leak in the line took Mallory's small hands, and far more time than necessary. Finally, sighing, she headed back upstairs to hear the lead singer's voice over the sound system. “This is the last song in our set. It's a special one, dedicated to the owner for giving us our first gig.” The drummer clicked his sticks a couple of times and they launched into a blues rock version of Joan Jett's “Bad Reputation.”

“I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation,” the
singer growled, the rhythm section setting up an irresistible beat. “You're living in the past, it's a new generation.”

“Come on,” Fiona shouted in her ear. “This is for you, you have to dance to it.” She dragged Mallory to the steps and pulled her up onto the bar.

The beat was sexy, relentless, and Mallory abandoned herself to it. The music flowed through her body and had her swinging her hips, bobbing her shoulders. Fiona danced and watched Colin. Grim-faced and driven, he played his guitar with a fury, pounding it until he snapped a string.

“You okay?” Mallory mouthed to Fiona, who gave a defiant nod, lifting her hair up and bumping to the thump of the bass.

“And I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation,” Kayla, Mallory, and Fiona joined him in the chorus, to the cheers of the crowd. “Not me,” they yelled, arms across one another's shoulders. “Not me.” The last chord jangled just as the drums and bass cut.

Just as Shay walked in.

Mallory saw his eyes fasten on her, then on Fiona. He stopped in place, surprise flickering over his face. Frowning, he stepped back to lean against the wall ledge.

Her stomach muscles knotted up as she hurried down off the bar. Ducking through the walkthrough, she pushed her way across the room to Shay.

“Well isn't this a surprise,” he said, looking over her shoulder at Fiona, who was dancing to the band's encore number. “Here I was guessing she'd wound up working for one of the other taverns.”

“I planned to tell you,” Mallory said quickly.

“And which of the five days we've seen each other since she gave notice were you planning to do that?” His gaze was flat, shutting her out.

Mallory pushed down the guilt that swamped her. “Come on, Shay,” she said reasonably, “you've run a bar for fifteen years. You know staff comes and goes.”

“Yes, indeed. They don't usually go to my lover's bar without anyone telling me, though,” he said flatly.