Maya And The Tough Guy (13 page)

“I don’t really know her well enough to tell.”

“Well, I do. For as long as I’ve known her, which is going on five years now, she’s never had any complaints or thoughts or ideas about my bar. But now, all of a sudden, she’s either criticizing the atmosphere or making creative suggestions about theme nights. It’s the damnedest thing.”

Maya’s eyes went wide as she shrugged. She knew where Janice’s ideas were coming from, but she hadn’t figured Janice would share them. So much for thinking she had a new confidant.
 

Jayce leaned back against the counter, long legs casually stretched out in front of him. His muscled arms folded over his chest. Maya’s gaze made it up to his face, and she was surprised to find an arched brow and faintly smiling lips. He wasn’t going to win this stare-down, though. Maya knew how to play innocent through worse torture than his knowing eyes.

At last he grinned, and looked down, stood straighter, and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “You got ideas, Maya?”

“No, sir.”

“No…sir?” Jayce was all but laughing, now. “I’m ‘sir’ now?”

Maya nodded quickly.

He approached her slowly, so as not to startle her, though tall and intimidating nonetheless. Maya stood her ground, defended her space, and stared up into his warm, dark eyes.

“You know, I bought this place from Homer Garber…did you know him?”

“No. Sir.”

He snorted. “Okay, well, it was a shit heap when I got here. I bought the whole building thinking I’d make a rental property out of it. I didn’t want to own a bar, it just didn’t even occur to me. But I let Homer keep running it for a while and when I realized the dude would actually be making money off it if he wasn’t such a fucking idiot, I decided to fix it up a little. But that’s all I did. Just cleaned things up. Bought new tables and chairs. I fixed the awning out front and offered more variety in drinks.

“I ended up keeping Homer’s crowd of old guys, shift-workers coming in to drink before going home to their nagging wives—but then, slowly, different people started coming in. Now here I am with this hodgepodge of customers, all ages, genders, and interests. I’m not sure how it got this way, but if you got any ideas for giving the place a little makeover, I’m open to them. I mean, you’re right about the lighting. I’ve thought before how I need to do some recessed lighting in the ceiling and then hanging lights over the bar and tables. Subdue things a little.”

Maya looked around. “That’s what I think, too. It’s really cool how this place attracts such a variety of people. But, how you’ve got it, it’s almost too generic. I mean, the building has so much character. And so do you. I just think this place could be more than just a place to come drink. It could be a hangout. I’d like to see people settle in and get comfortable, you know?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling down at her. “Yeah, that’s what I’d like this place to be: a hangout.”

Something inside Maya broke and she felt a sudden surge of freedom and enthusiasm. “Well, that’s why I think more comfortable lighting. And then uniforms for us girls. I just feel like we’re too…trashy dressed like this. And I get that the older guys tip better the more we let them look down our shirts, but the other groups that come in here, they tip how they tip. A lot of women come here and they don’t wanna see my ass hanging out of my shorts. And these hipster college guys that come, my tips from them are the same no matter how much I do or don’t flirt.”

“So you want new uniforms? Like, more conservative?”

“Not necessarily—just…classier. Classy, but still sexy. So we aren’t a threat or an insult to your female customers but still pleasing to the eye for the male customers.”

“You got something specific in mind?”

Maya bit her bottom lip. “Actually, yeah.” She pulled out her cell phone and found the pictures of the different uniform ideas she’d saved.

Jayce put his arm around Maya’s waist and looked over her shoulder at the pictures. She froze, for a moment. His hand was warm against the bare strip of skin between her shorts and tank. He reached over and touched her phone, scanning through the pictures. She took her first breath since he’d touched her, and waited, sorting through her feelings. Fear warred with excitement. Two voices in her mind did battle. One told her that this was dangerous; that Jayce was out of line putting his hand on her like this. The other voice told her that he was being a friend; that if it felt good, she should let herself enjoy the touch. That’s all it was—a touch. It didn’t mean anything. It was safe.

She found herself staring up at him as he studied the phone. The furrow in his brow spoke of his focus on the subject at hand. He didn’t appear to be nearly as distracted by the touch as she was.
 

“That one,” Jayce said, snapping her out of the clouds. He’d stopped at her favorite photo—high-waisted black shorts with a cream colored halter top, tailored and with frilly lace around the edges, cut low enough to show cleavage, but not at all trashy. “Make it happen, Maya. The bar will pay for it.” He stepped aside, now that he no longer needed to look over her shoulder at her phone. His smile was warm, and her flesh was cold where his hand had been.

She shivered and concentrated on keeping her voice low and even. “Shouldn’t I check with the other girls?”

He shrugged. “Your call. Janice is on board. I’m happy to just tell them there’s new uniforms. You start offering choices, it’s gonna turn into a big, unnecessary drama. You just gotta get everybody’s sizes and let me know when you’re ready to order so I can give you my credit card.”

Maya felt her excitement returning, gradually shoving its way through the other thoughts. Unfortunately, there was no more time to talk, as Buck, one of the regulars, came in and beelined for the bar. It was way earlier than normal for him. Maya watched at a distance as Jayce served him beer and then leaned on his forearms to listen to Buck’s woes.
 

She’d seen Jayce do that, from time to time. He would lean in and listen to a person, or he’d grab himself a beer and join them at their table. Or rest a hand on a woman’s hip as he helped her make a business decision. He seemed very in tune with people’s moods, which she found interesting, considering he hardly ever displayed emotion himself.
 

At one-thirty, instead of going home, Maya went to Jayce’s office, got online, and found the website to order new uniforms. She set up the order and was about to go find him for his credit card when he walked in. He shut the door behind him, handed her his card, and sat in the chair across from his desk.

She was grinning and bouncing in her seat as she plugged in the numbers and clicked ‘Confirm Order.’ “I think we should find those little pillbox hats in red to look like old-fashioned cigarette girls, you know?”

He just stared at her, almost smiling.
 

“You know what I really wanna do?” she asked. She stood and went around the desk, leaning back on it. His eyes stayed on hers, staring up at her now. “I think we should have a Ladies Night. For Valentine’s Day. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

He rested his ankle on his knee and steepled his fingers. “What would that involve?”

“You, tending bar, shirtless.”

He barked a laugh.

“We’d have to find some other hot guys to serve drinks, too. And maybe you could come up with some specialty, girly drinks or something.”

He was shaking his head, not in refusal, just in amusement.
 

“We could donate to a charity…like The Women’s Shelter or something.”

His expression sobered a bit.
 

Jayce wasn’t saying anything. Maybe she’d overstepped. Maybe this was a stupid idea. She was getting too excited about her freedom and was becoming presumptuous. This was his bar, not hers. “Or…or maybe not…if it’s not—”

He stood so that now he was looking down at her. “Sounds like fun. Talk to the girls. See what you all come up with. I’ll call a meeting on Thursday so we can all get on the same page. Sound good?”

“Really?” Maya studied him for any hint of falseness, but he was smiling down at her, just as sure and true as could be. “You’ll really let me do this?”

“If you can get the other girls on board and give me a plan by Thursday, then yeah.”

Maya couldn’t help herself, she threw her arms around him. She faintly noticed how much easier it was getting to spontaneously hug him. “Thank you, Jayce.”

He didn’t respond except to hold her. And the holding felt good. Really…really good. Maya’s blood heated slowly and it finally, fully occurred to her that Jayce was sexy as hell. She’d been so occupied with her fear, she’d failed to appreciate the aesthetics of the situation. A chiseled body, warm flesh, and kind eyes. Big hands on her back, and arms that felt safe. Actual safe, not the false kind that she’d found with Damon.
 

Her body responded.
 

She pulled back and was pleased when Jayce did, too, because it meant he was respecting her space. He took his hands off of her waist and stepped back. She bit her lip and stared up at him. Hadn’t he said he wanted to take her to bed? And what would be so wrong with that? He was like his friend, Janice, casual about sex. It actually sounded just perfect for her needs. Friends with benefits, wasn’t that the phrase?
 

Maya reached down and took his hand, pressed it to her cheek, and sank into the warmth of it. His thumb moved along her cheekbone. “Maya,” he said, his voice rough and ragged.
 

His eyes held such intensity. She moved into him, raised up on tip-toe, and kissed his jaw. He turned his lips to meet hers and kissed her. He moaned like a starving man and she didn’t understand it; because Jayce certainly didn’t have trouble getting sex when he wanted it, yet he cupped her face and kissed her like it was his first time ever.

Heat welled low in her belly as his lips moved over hers, as his tongue gently parted her lips, slipping inside of her, dancing with her own. She fisted her hands in his t-shirt and held on against the onslaught of confusing emotions. What had she done to deserve his…his what? Friendship? Attraction? Whatever he was offering, why her? Why, when he could be with anyone, would he want her?

Jayce’s kiss remained consistent, not backing off but not pushing forward. Yet she could feel the need wafting off of him. His body vibrated with tension, and she found she cared for him so much that she wanted to give him more. And take more. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his.

Jayce made a low, hungry sound deep in his chest that sent thrills of sensation throughout Maya’s body. His hand was in her hair and the other hand around her waist. He moved his lips to her jaw and neck and just behind her ear. “Oh, Jayce,” she gasped.

“Come upstairs,” he whispered. “I’ll be so good to you, Maya. Come upstairs, please.”

Her head was swimming. Need concentrated between her legs, overwhelming the objections in her head. “Yes.”

Jayce leaned back, studied her briefly, then grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door. He froze for a moment in the hallway, glancing first towards the stairs to his left and then towards the bar to his right. “Okay, here,” Jayce said, turning and retrieving his keys from his pocket. “You go on up. I gotta finish locking up and then I’ll be right there.”

Maya turned and ran up the stairs. Her heart raced as she felt the excitement of youth and romance—two things she’d never been able to enjoy before, except for a brief moment, long ago, in the back of a car.

#

Jayce hurried upstairs all the while praying Maya hadn’t changed her mind.
 

The apartment door was open. He went in and nearly ran into her back. Maya hadn’t made it very far, but at least she was there. Jayce took the keys she’d been fidgeting with and tossed them on his coffee table, then he turned her in his arms and kissed her again. He needed to get her back into the right state of mind. Into that place where she wasn’t afraid of him.

She melted right into him, as if her body was made for him. He lifted her and carried her to his bed. Sweet Maya, with her sweet hands clinging to him. He lay down on top of her, still kissing her. He’d be gentle with her, no matter how hard he wanted her, no matter how much he wished he could rip her clothes off and take her hot and frenzied. Maya was fragile. Maya needed gentleness.

Moving his hand beneath her shirt, Jayce cupped her lace-clad breast, barely able to believe his hands were on the woman of his dreams. She writhed beneath him, as he teased her nipple with his thumb, thrilling at her response. Sliding his hand beneath her, Jayce unclasped her bra. He pushed it and her shirt up and then dipped his head down to tease her breasts with his tongue. Oh, God.

She gasped. Jayce got painfully hard at the sound. Her hands were in his hair. His were on her ass. It became apparent to him that he wasn’t meant for this slow and gentle mode of lovemaking. He needed to taste her. Fuck her. Take her and give her everything he had.
 

Rising up on his knees between her legs, Jayce took Maya’s hands, pulled her to a sitting position, and reached for her shirt. She pressed her hands against it, preventing his pulling it off.

Jayce studied her and waited. At last she smiled and removed her hands, and he grinned as he pulled her shirt and bra off. “Lie down, Maya,” Jayce instructed, then drank in the sight of her while he pulled off his own shirt. Lying atop her again, he groaned in pleasure at the feel of her naked chest pressed to his, her arms and legs around him. He ran his hands over every inch of bare skin.
 

Maya kissed him, nipped at his ear, until at last she arched and ground herself against his erection. Jayce lost it, then, taking her mouth with his, hard and rough, and thrusting against her through the denim separating them.
 

She cried out, causing Jayce to move harder. Lifting and dipping his hand into her shorts, Jayce massaged her. Her body trembled violently, and she cried out again. This time there was something wrong about the sound.

And then she was sobbing and begging him to stop. He immediately pushed off of her, and she rolled to her side, curled up, and cried. When the realization dawned on him that he wouldn’t be making it with Maya tonight, Jayce sort of wanted to cry himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, because it seemed the thing to say.