Last Call (2 page)

His features were sharp, and if not smiling,
he would appear harsh, hostile even. But softened by that grin, she
found him utterly—and literally—breathtaking.

“I think you misunderstood my request.” His
eyes twinkled with amusement.

As a bartender, Sunny met good-looking men on
a regular basis. Sometimes they tripped her trigger. Most of the
time, they didn't. What she felt now catapulted beyond mild
interest and ranked more like an internal explosion capable of
launching a rocket.

Her flirting game had been packed away so
long she wasn’t sure she still had it. And if so, she doubted she
could find all the pieces. But this guy… he made her want to sort
through the game drawer and find as much as possible.

The biting sting of ice—in which her arm was
still buried to the elbow—cut through the lustful haze, and her
muscle jerked involuntarily. She glanced down, trying to remember
what she was doing prior to having her motherboard fried.

Inventory. Right.

Her cheeks blazed with the embarrassment of
her obvious attraction, and she could only imagine the glow they
were putting off. She bit down on the sucker, then tossed the empty
stick in the trashcan by her feet. “Sorry for being a smart-ass.
Let me finish this and”—she smiled, and searched for a flirty
tone—“I’ll take care of you.”

His blue eyes darkened, and his eyelids
relaxed. A slow, rakish smile crept across his full lips, causing
the tiny cleft in the center of his chin to deepen. “I look forward
to that.”

Damn.
If they weren’t talking drinks,
this would be the opportunity of a lifetime.

When she finished counting the beers, she
patted her arm dry and grabbed three shot glasses off the shelf.
She sensed him watching her every move, and her skin heated under
his scrutiny. He wasn’t excessively tall, maybe six feet, but his
presence seemed to dominate her five-foot-four frame.

She wasn’t easily intimidated, but the
confidence and power he emanated, combined with the raw sexuality
she’d glimpsed a moment ago, made her knees weak.

Just once, I want to have sex with a man
like that.

God, how she longed for a wild, tumultuous
fling that would knock her world off its axis.

Her bracelets jingled and her mouth watered
as she shook the canister of whipped cream. What a waste to put it
on the drink when she could squirt it on him… then spend an hour or
two slowly and deliberately licking it off.

“What’s your name?” His voice was huskier
than it had been before, and when she met his gaze, the sparks
radiating from his blue eyes shot liquid fire straight to her
crotch.

“Oh, crap. Was I thinking out loud?”

A smile crawled across his mouth, and her
heart stopped. “Nope.”

She blew out a breath, then clenched her eyes
shut. Even if she hadn’t spoken, she was sure she’d broadcast her
thoughts like an idiot. This was why she never flirted. She stunk
at it. She opened her eyes and cleared her throat. “Sunny. My
name’s Sunny.”

He looked up to the ceiling and said her name
a few times, as if trying it on for size. He cocked his head to the
side and looked in her eyes. “That’s nice.”

The charged attraction between them made her
jittery as hell. Because of her job, she got hit on often, but she
rarely took the bait. At least, nothing more than a little harmless
bantering here and there. She had little to no experience in
playing sexual games, and it was beyond obvious this man was way
out of her league.

She topped the blowjob off with a shot of
whipped cream, and then, careful not to let the tremble in her
fingers show, set the drinks on a small serving tray. “Sorry you
have to carry that yourself. During the winter things are slow, so
we don’t have wait staff on hand. Well, other than me.”

He grinned and reached into his back pocket
for his wallet. “I think I can handle the tray.” He slid a credit
card across the counter, letting go of it only after her fingers
brushed his. “Can I run a tab?”

Prickles of awareness and desire wrapped
around her fingers and danced up her arm. She knew he’d asked, “Can
I run a tab?” but her body heard, “Can I run my hands all over
you?”

Lord, she could only imagine what it would be
like to have him stroking her skin. The pulsating current ripping
through her system would probably cause a meltdown. “Sure. You
can…”
D
o anything you like.

Her desire to close up early had evaporated.
She’d be more than happy to stick around for as long as he wanted
to stay.

She glanced across the bar to where three
well-dressed women, two blondes and a brunette, sat. Everyone else
in the bar was a local, so they must be the women he’d ordered the
drinks for. Sunny made eye contact with the brunette, who, in turn,
shot her a what-the-hell-is-taking-so-long glare.

Sunny grinned and cut her eyes to—she glanced
at the card in her hand—Gavin McLeod. “You have your hands full
with those three.”

Okay, had that sounded like she was on a
fishing expedition? She hadn’t meant it that way, but it would be
nice if he volunteered some information regarding his relationship
with them. They couldn’t all be sisters, could they?

He blew out a harsh breath and pushed his
fingers through his thick, black hair. “You have no idea.”

A few rebellious locks broke rank and slipped
back over his brow, adding a boyish charm to his otherwise severe
profile. The impulse to brush the strands off of his forehead was
so strong she had to clench her fists at her sides to resist.

Picking up the drink tray, he said, “I’ll be
right back for my drink. A double shot of Crown.” He turned, then
stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Make it a Budweiser,
instead.” Sunny didn’t understand the humor behind his drink
request, but based on the glint in his eye and the lopsided grin,
the thought of drinking a beer amused him.

As he strode across the hardwood floor toward
the waiting women, Sunny stood on tiptoes to get a better view of
the full package. An off-white, form-fitting shirt stretched across
his broad shoulders and hugged thick biceps, while black,
tailor-made slacks hung from a trim waist and encased a nice, tight
ass.

Yowzer.
She snagged a piece of ice
from the cooler and swept it down the side of her neck and across
the sharp ridge of her collarbone.

“Damn, girlie. Didn’t take much for that
fella to get you all hot and bothered.”

Sunny scrunched her eyes shut, hunched her
shoulders, and hunkered down her head. She’d been so caught up in
Gavin, she hadn’t thought about Joe and Ed sitting at the end of
the bar. Those two old geezers never missed a thing, and they’d be
milking this cow forever.

She laughed at the mental image she had of
Gavin, stripped, lying on the sacrificial altar of her bar, doused
in whipped cream. If she were going to get grief for her actions,
wouldn’t it be fun to give them something truly amazing to talk
about?

Callie narrowed her eyes and glared at the
bartender as she stood on tiptoes to watch Gavin walk away. Ogling
was bad enough. But when she grabbed a piece of ice and ran it
along the side of her neck, like she would die of heat stroke if
she didn’t cool down, Callie rolled her eyes and huffed, “Oh,
please.”

Granted, Gavin was the hottest thing ever.
But, really… what a slut.

The ice snagged the bartender’s necklace,
causing it to shift and reflect the light. It was a strange piece
of jewelry, and Callie squinted, trying for a better look. A chain
made of diamonds—cubic zirconium, no doubt—circled her neck, then
dipped into her highly exposed cleavage before—“Ohmigod.” Callie’s
hand flew to her throat, and her eyes popped wide open.

“What’s wrong?” Jen and Tiffany asked in
unison.

Shocked, and possibly traumatized for life,
Callie whispered, “Look at the bartender’s necklace.”

Her friends craned their necks around to peer
over their shoulders. Their eyes narrowed, then simultaneously
widened. Tiffany said, “Oh. My. God, is right,” while Jen said,
“That is so cool.”

For a second, Callie thought she’d
misunderstood Jen. Then she considered the source. She and Jen
didn’t live in the same moral zip code, and it figured Jen would
have that kind of reaction. Callie shook her head. “I should've
known you'd like it.”

“What?” Jen said, sitting straighter and
pulling her shoulders back. “It’s just a nipple necklace. They have
them at Benedetti’s.” As if being carried by one of Myrtle Beach’s
exclusive boutiques made it okay. “I’ve always wondered how they’d
feel.” Speaking more to herself than to Callie or Tiffany, she
murmured, “I might have to go there tomorrow and get one.”

Tiffany looked at Jen with something akin to
hero worship. “How does it work?”

Jen, the group’s resident expert on
everything perverse, said, “It goes around her neck, like a
necklace. But instead of falling down the middle of her cleavage
and stopping, like most necklaces, it splits into two separate
pieces and the ends either attach to piercings or clip around the
nipples.

Callie shuddered and wrapped her arms around
her chest. “That is so…”
Gross, frightening, slutty…
painful.

“You are such a prude.”

Callie’s gasp was sharp and loud, like Jen
had tossed a bucket of ice in her face. “I-I am not.” The denial
lacked conviction, and Callie looked to Tiffany for help. “Do you
think I’m a prude?”

Tiffany’s eyes widened and pink crept over
her cheeks. “I’m not the one to ask about that.”

True, Tiffany only had one lover, the guy she
dated for three years in college. Since their breakup, she’d sworn
off sex, intending to stay celibate until marriage. She was
“re-virginizing” herself. Whatever that meant.

Jen leaned across the table and squeezed
Callie’s arm. “I’m sorry, hun. You’re not a prude. You’re just…
well…” She scrunched up her face, searching for the right word,
then sighed and grimaced. “Maybe a little
prudish
.”

Callie flipped her gaze to Gavin, who’d
stopped to study the playlist on the jukebox. “Do you think Gavin
thinks I’m a prude?”

Jen released Callie’s arm and sat back in her
chair, while Tiffany played with the snap on her handbag. Callie
looked from one to the other. “Does that mean yes?”

“Honestly, Cal,” Jen said with a huff. “I
don’t think Gavin spends much time thinking about you, period.”

A sharp pain ripped through Callie’s chest
and her eyes stung. Jen could be a coldhearted bitch at times, and
Callie wondered why she maintained the friendship.

“He’s just focused on his career right now,”
Tiffany said in a soft, patronizing tone that made Callie feel like
a charity case.

Why was she asking them about Gavin, anyway?
They didn’t know him, or know what he thought about. Besides, he
might not even want her to wear a necklace like that. Lowlife
construction workers might get turned on by that kind of thing, but
probably not a sophisticated man like Gavin.

He pushed away from the jukebox and closed
the distance to their table. As he set the drinks before them,
Callie gathered her courage and said, “Gavin? What do you think of
the bartender’s necklace?”

Tiffany’s eyes popped wider than Callie had
ever seen them, and Jen sat stone-still. It was out of character
for Callie to be this bold, but it was obvious she needed to step
up her efforts to snag Gavin’s attention.

He set the third drink on the table and
turned around. “What neck—” The words died off as his eyes widened
slightly and his mouth dropped open.

Jen laughed and held up her shot glass.
“Guess that answers that.” She threw back the screaming orgasm and
returned her glass to the tray… The tray that lay forgotten while
Gavin stared at the bartender.

Okay, Jen might be right about the necklace.
In which case, she’d go with her to Benedetti’s tomorrow. She could
adapt for Gavin. Although, unlike the skanky bartender, who showed
off the erotic jewelry for the entire world to see, Callie would
keep it hidden under her clothes as her naughty secret…one she
would hopefully be able to share with Gavin.

Determined to shed the prudish image she’d
accidentally obtained, Callie stroked her fingernail down his
forearm and said, “Watch how I take care of this blowjob?” She
clasped her hands behind her back, wrapped her lips around the rim
of the glass, and closed her eyes.

The position was awkward, and she was
terrified she looked like an idiot. But she’d seen girls do this
before, and guys always liked it. If the suggestive move helped her
win Gavin’s attention, she’d do it.

She imagined the two of them alone, her lips
wrapped around him, bringing him pleasure. In one fluid motion, she
threw her head back, and sent the liquid spilling down her
throat.

Anticipation swirled through her as she
pulled the glass from her mouth, licked her lips, and opened her
eyes. But Gavin wasn’t standing there, looking at her with great
appreciation, as she’d expected.

In fact, he wasn’t standing there at all.
He’d left their table and was walking around the perimeter of the
bar, appearing genuinely interested in the despicable artwork
hanging on the walls.

Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she
pressed her lips together to stop the quivering in her chin. She
tilted her head back and blinked until the waterworks subsided.
Humiliating herself was bad enough. She would not add to that
humiliation by having ruined makeup. When she had the tears under
control, she slammed the glass onto the table and folded her arms
across her chest.

“I think we need more drinks,” Jen said.

Tiffany nodded. “I agree.” She gave Callie a
cheery smile and added, “Let’s go back to margaritas.”