Worcester Nights - The Boxed Set (3 page)

I wrapped my fingers around its neck, walked back along the dimly-lit corridor, turned the corner –

He was sitting at the bar.

The shock of it staggered me to a stop. He was staring right at me, those moss-green eyes holding a glint of amusement as they drew down me. I glowed under his gaze, seeing myself through his eyes. My grey cashmere sweater hugged my body, soft, inviting the touch. The low cut allowed my silver Saint Michael’s medallion to glitter between the curves of my breast. The jeans and boots accentuated my slender figure.

A swirl of desire built in his eyes; the corners of his mouth eased up in a knowing smile.

Heat washed through me, and my throat went dry. I moved behind the bar, focusing on putting the Bushmills where it belonged, striving desperately to regain my center.

I’d never had a man affect me like this – never. The thunderbolt. It was real. And it was dangerous. I knew nothing about this man sitting in front of me. He could be a dangerous felon for all I knew.

I didn’t care.

The thought flashed in my brain, hot, powerful, and I squelched it before it could take root.

I had to get this under control. I had to figure out who he was.

I took in a deep, steadying breath and turned to face him. He was wearing a dark brown leather jacket over a black shirt. His hair had that same tousle, his chin that same stubble that made me long to run my thumb along it. The glass before him was nearly empty, with only a slight glisten of amber liquid in it.

I nudged my head at the glass. “You want some more?”

His gaze traced down to my neckline, then back up to my eyes again. His voice was rich, resonant, and shimmered throughout my body. “That depends.”

My throat went dry, and it was a moment before I could reply. “Depends on what?”

His smile grew, and he dropped his voice down lower. “Are you a betting woman?”

I couldn’t help it. I stepped closer to the bar, leaning against it. I told myself it was so I could hear him better. But as I breathed in that scent of his – musk and pine – waves of heat washed through me. It took me a moment to remember what his question had been.

Something about betting.

“Depends on the stakes.”

He nodded at that. He held up his glass before me, turning it so it caught the light. “You tell me what I was drinking, and I’ll tip you twenty for your bartending skills.”

A thrill of excitement darted through me. I could use twenty. I might be able to forego ramen for the week and get several nights of Ziti’s pizza.

“And if I can’t guess it?”

His finger slid along the glass. “Well, then, I guess you’ll just have to …”

My heart thundered in my chest. “… have to?”

His eyes held mine. “Have to tell me your name.”

My breath whooshed out of me, and I burst out laughing. He seemed caught by me, and for a moment he didn’t speak, just watched as I soaked in my joy. Then he held up the glass, his eyes holding a new emotion, something deeper. “So you’ll drink?”

I grinned. “Absolutely.”

As I reached out to take the glass our fingers brushed each other’s. An electrical charge shimmered through us; every corner of my body resonated with the power of it.

I was thankful that I was still leaning against the bar. Drawing my fingers away from his was like pulling away from a powerful magnet. When the contact broke, I curled my fingers tightly on the glass.

Take your time
, I warned myself.
You need to learn more about him.

I brought the drink to my nose, closed my eyes, and took in a few gentle sniffs. I didn’t hold out much hope of figuring this out – we must have had forty whiskeys on our shelf – but I would give it my best try. A trio of nice sausage pizzas was on the line here, after all.

I drew in the aroma of …

I stopped in surprise. Raisin. Honey. Toffee.

Nobody in the bar besides Jimmy drank this stuff. Could I really be that lucky?

I raised the edge of the glass to my mouth, taking in the remaining swallow. The liquid coated my tongue, slid along my throat, and sent a warm shaft of desire into my core.

I opened my eyes.

He was staring at me, transfixed, as if I were Venus rising naked from the ocean on a clam shell. His jawline was tight, and when he spoke there was a hoarseness to his voice.

“Well?”

I gave the side of the glass a thankful kiss for bringing me such luck, then placed it down before him. I turned to the back wall, selected out the bottle of Redbreast, then faced him again. Without a word I poured him a fresh glass.

He turned the glass in place, his eyes still on me, now brightening with respect. “Apparently you have some experience.”

“Oh, more than enough,” I agreed with a smile.

He ran his thumb over the section of the glass that I had kissed, and the flames within me cranked higher. I could imagine him running that thumb down the side of my neck … under the curve of my breast …

His eyes twinkled, and he reached with his other hand to his back pocket, pulling out a worn black leather wallet. He flipped it open; his driver’s license and some sort of a business card showed in the sleeves. He drew out a worn twenty and held it out to me.

“I always follow through on what I say,” he murmured, his eyes holding mine.

I couldn’t help it. When I reached out to take the bill, I let my fingers run along his, and the burning desire within me billowed to new heights. I pressed my thighs together, trying to rein in the out-of-control hormones which were raging within me.

I barely knew him!

I folded the twenty in half and slipped it into the front pocket of my jeans.

Jimmy’s furious shout echoed from the side of the room. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What the fock, Katie?”

Sharp, violent heat flared in the man’s eyes, replaced so quickly with stillness that if I hadn’t been staring right at him I’d never had seen it. He turned on the stool, looking calmly at Jimmy. “That was a tip for good service,” he coolly stated. “I’m running a tab for my drinks.”

Jimmy took an angry step into the room, his paunch jiggling with his emotion. “The hell you are.”

Joey spoke up from his stool, drawn from his stupor by Jimmy’s loud voice. “Uh, I started the tab, Jimmy,” he explained. “It’s there on the cork-board by the phone. Kate was out back getting me some more whiskey when he came in.”

Jimmy stalked over to the corkboard, stared for a moment at the white note, and all of a sudden he was the friendly, pedophile-uncle again and not a raving ball of fury. “Ah, right, of course, lass. You’re one of the best bartenders we’ve had. Only a month and I’ve got you well trained.” He patted me on the shoulder.

The blonde girl came out of the back room, her hair now in one long ponytail behind her. “I gotta get home or my parents will kill me.”

Jimmy looked at me, and I punched the taxi button on the phone. A few minutes later she was safely on her way. I wondered if she’d make it in before her curfew or if she’d be grounded.

I wondered if her parents had any idea what she was up to.

Jimmy looked over the man before him as if Jimmy were the stallion of a herd and a rogue horse had just come up on the horizon. He glanced down at the wallet which still lay open on the bar. His voice held more than a hint of challenge in it. “So, staying at the Jefferson?”

I looked down in surprise. The business card did have their logo in the top corner, as well as the name and title of the manager of the place.

My chest constricted. I should have known …

The man calmly nodded, unfazed in the least. “Name’s Sean Miller.”

Jimmy’s eyes drilled in on him. “What were you in for?”

Sean could have been talking about the weather. “Armed robbery, in New York City. Sentenced to fifteen, let out in seven.”

“What did you rob?”

“Italian restaurant. They were causing trouble for my friend’s bar. Trying to run them out of business; thought we were the wrong sort for the neighborhood. Me and a few of my friends went to teach them a lesson.”

Jimmy’s gaze became considering. “And did you?”

Sean’s lips twitched into a smile. “They never reopened.”

Jimmy reached back and tore the note from the corkboard, dropping it the trash. His grin was expansive. “First two drinks are on the house, as a welcome to your new life. But we run a clean establishment here. No trouble, you understand me?”

Sean gave him a toast. “Loud and clear.”

Jimmy glanced around the room, then turned to me. “I’ll be in my office.”

I nodded. “Sure thing, Jimmy.”

My heart was thumping against my ribs as he turned the corner, effectively leaving me alone again with Sean. The remaining patrons could have been window mannequins for all they figured. Questions tumbled one after another in my mind, and I fought them all down with furious energy.

Sean watched me, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “So? What d’ya want to know?”

I steeled myself. He seemed open to talking, and this might be my only chance for some answers. “Why did you do it?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I told you. The Italians were muscling in on us. Thought we Irish trash should clear out of their territory.”

“Wasn’t there another way?”

He paused for a moment, looking at me with consideration. His voice was more measured when he spoke again. “I would have preferred it,” he admitted. “However, the rest of the crew was beyond talking at that point. I went along to make sure nobody got hurt.”

A tremor of nervousness ran through me. “And did they?”

He shook his head, holding my gaze. “I made sure I was the only one with a gun, and I focused their energy on smashing the place. We locked the patrons in a back store room. Nobody was hurt.”

I thought of him in that tense situation, a rowdy mob set out for revenge on one side, and only Sean stood between them and their victims.

“I guess sometimes you do the best you can,” I murmured.

“That you do,” he agreed. He nudged his head toward the back hallway. “I see you know something of that yourself.”

I found myself smiling. “Certainly not the job I thought I’d land when I graduated,” I agreed.

“Holy Cross?”

My throat went dry. Had he been stalking me?

He chuckled, his eyes flicking to the back wall. “You wear their hoodie,” he pointed out. His gaze shadowed. “Or is that your boyfriend’s college?”

I shook my head vehemently. “He went to Worcester Tech,” I snapped.

I flushed, realizing that even after all these months I thought of Derek as having power over me, as still being a presence in my life. “Ex-boyfriend,” I clarified. “And good riddance.”

He grinned. “Sounds like a story.” He took a sip his drink. “Let me buy you a drink, and you tell it to me.”

I knew I should resist, but I found my hands reaching for the Redbreast and pouring the glass. He clinked his against mine, and I felt the vibration of it deep within me.

I took in a mouthful of the whiskey, and it was all I could hope for. Somehow it loosened the gears of my long-silent machinery, and once they began turning, the words flowed out.

“Bastard seemed charming at first. Attentive, that sort of thing. But in a short while it crossed over into full blown jealousy. He said one of my friends was too needy and drove her away. Then another was too flashy. God forbid I talk to a male. By two months in he was watching my every move, screaming at me every night, and I was almost afraid to leave him. I thought that might just make it worse.”

He nodded, his eyes holding mine. “But you did.”

I took another drink. “Yeah, my friend Eileen went with me to tell him and to get my stuff from his apartment. Good thing, too. He was furious. I stayed with her for the next two weeks, just in case he got some wild idea in his head.” I gave a wry smile. “Luckily when he graduated, his company sent him out to the Berkshires.” I shrugged. “So I’m all right now.”

His gaze sparkled. “I’d say you were more than all right.”

I looked down in my drink, flushing. I had gotten so used to Derek’s snide commentary and harsh language, to his continual put-downs, that handling the compliment seemed a completely foreign task, like trying to juggle flaming torches. I rolled Sean’s words around in my mind, soaking in the feeling of it, and Sean sat quietly before me, sipping his whiskey, acting as if we had all the time in the world.

It struck me that I’d never been this comfortable with anybody. Derek would have been launching into a monologue right now to fill the silence, ranting about my choice of friends or the clothes I wore. Nothing was ever quite right to please him. But with Sean we simply were. It was as if he were the exhale and I was the inhale. I could breathe him in, breathe deeply, and his strength would fill me.

Sean laid his fingers along mine, and I could feel the texture of them in every corner of my soul. The warmth filled me, lifted me, and brought exotic flavors to the liquor in my mouth.