Last Call (9 page)

Wonder what time Sunny goes to work?

He blew out a breath, and forced his thoughts
back to his job. Why would A.L. Black be so elusive?

Wonder if he knows where Sunny lives

What would motivate Mr. Black to—

Maybe I could see Sunny before she goes to
work?

Jesus Christ. Forgetting about Sunny was like
forgetting to breathe. Absolutely impossible. Her cheerful attitude
and the way she traded barbs with the locals made him smile, inside
and out. Her loyalty to and personal sacrifice for her brother was
a testament to her caring nature. And her sex appeal rocketed off
the damned charts. Everything, from her unique eye color to the
tantalizing necklace, intrigued him. Water pooled in his mouth as
he remembered the smell of her strawberry shampoo and the taste of
her soft skin. Holy hell, she was a firestorm erupting in his arms,
and he couldn’t wait to feel that heat again.

He told himself he brought an overnight bag
as a precaution, in case he got tied up trying to locate the owner.
But it was time to call bullshit. His plans of staying overnight in
Anticue had nothing to do with work, but everything to do with
Sunny.

She made him feel like a horny teenager,
barely able to control himself. He’d tossed and turned all night,
contemplating the variety of ways to bring her pleasure. In the
process, he made himself crazy with need. The quick hand job in the
shower this morning hadn’t done a thing to ease his ache. If
anything, it ratcheted his lust even higher.

As he turned onto Atlantic Avenue, he glanced
at the clock on the dash. He doubted the bar would be open at
eleven o’clock on Friday morning, but since it was the only address
he had, that’s where he’d start.

How would Sunny take the news of the Blackout
selling? And closing?

Idiot, how would you take the news of being
out of a job?

For a startling second, the thought brought
him a sense of relief. Talk about crazy. He’d worked too hard, too
long, to get to this point in his career. How could he possibly
feel relief at not having a job? Besides, it would be a little
difficult to continue supporting two households without an
income.

As he pulled into the Blackout parking lot,
he noticed the beat-up Honda Civic and Ford Ranger—both on the
downward spiral of life—that were there last night. One of those
cars must be Sunny’s, and the prospect of seeing her again kicked
his heartbeat into double time.

The inside of the Blackout was dark and
appeared to be deserted, but he tugged on the door handle anyway.
Locked. He cupped his hands and peered inside, like Robby did last
evening.
Oh, shit.
He would have been able to see
everything. The only saving grace was that Sunny’s back had been to
the door.

He retraced his steps, then kept going until
he rounded the back of the building. On the far side, he found a
set of steps leading to what appeared to be an upstairs
apartment.

The door at the top flew open and Robby burst
through the doorway. He was halfway down the stairs before he
noticed Gavin standing at the bottom. He jerked to a stop, eyes
narrowed and full of suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

“Uhhh…” Gee, that sounded intelligent. But
Gavin was caught so off-guard, he couldn’t come up with anything
better.

The kid’s expression said he wasn’t any
happier about Gavin’s presence today than he was last night. Trying
to appear as friendly and nonthreatening as possible, Gavin took
off his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket, then let his
hands fall loosely at his sides. With the fine hairs on the back of
his neck standing at attention, and his internal guidance system
sending off warning flares, he couldn’t form a proper response.

Taking his silence as an unwillingness to
answer, Robby said, “Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question.” He
dropped down to the next step and jerked his head toward the door
at the top. “I assume she’s expecting you.” He continued downward,
and as he brushed past Gavin, muttered, “And she bitches at me for
me being on the make all the time.”

Gavin was still standing flat-footed and
dumbfounded when Robby fired up the Ford and spun tires out of the
parking lot. His gaze slid to the door at the top of the stairs,
and a feeling of dread sank into his bones.

He propped a hand on the railing and thought
things through. It was possible Sunny and Robby leased the upstairs
apartment from the owner. It would be to Mr. Black’s benefit to
have someone living on property, someone who would be right there
to take care of things. It would also make things easier for Sunny
and Robby and cut down on their travel expenses of getting to and
from work.

But the owner had listed this address as
his…

Shit…

Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose and
tried not to finish the thought.
O
r
her
address.

He had a terrible feeling things were about
to get awkward. There wasn’t any point in delaying the inevitable,
so he drew in a deep breath, then headed up the stairs.

Gavin knocked on the door, which was left
slightly ajar in Robby's hasty exit. It swung open, and he found
Sunny standing on a stool, reaching into an upper cabinet, an
oversized T-shirt barely covering the curve of her ass.

“What did you forget?” she asked, twisting
toward the door. Her T-shirt shifted and—because his eyes were
glued to her ass—he caught a glimpse of her pink thong. His gaze
slid higher, and through the thin, cotton fabric, he could tell she
wasn’t wearing
the
necklace. Nothing but beautiful Sunny
under that shirt.

Time stood still. He hadn’t left last night…
and hadn’t been to work this morning. The need to touch and taste
her was as strong as it had been in the bar twelve hours earlier,
and the desperate drive to have her consumed him.

He lifted his gaze to her face. Her eyes were
smudged with last night’s makeup, a sucker stick hung from her
mouth, and her blond hair tumbled around her face and shoulders in
a just-out-of-bed tangle.

His fingers twitched and burned with the need
to touch her, and he cursed the southbound flow of blood that left
him lightheaded and aching from teeth to toes.

Sunny squeezed her eyes shut and shook her
head, as if clearing cobwebs. When she opened them and found him
still standing in the doorway, her nose crinkled and her forehead
creased with confusion. At least she didn’t seem to be alarmed at
finding him on her doorstep, only puzzled.

When she lifted her hand to take the sucker
from her mouth, he caught sight of a tattoo circling her wrist. She
was wearing bracelets last night, so he hadn't noticed it. He sure
noticed it now.

Holy hell.
One more item to add to the
ever-growing list of things he found so fascinating about this
woman.

She smiled awkwardly and raised an eyebrow.
“When you said you'd call, I thought you meant on the phone.
And”—she laughed nervously—“I sort of thought you meant at the
bar.”

“Surprise.” Talk about understatements.

Her gaze dipped to his shoes, then casually
made the climb to his face. Going by her heavy-lidded, glassy-eyed
look and the way she worked the sucker with her tongue, he guessed
she was as affected by the magnetic pull as him.

“Can I come in?” he asked, pushing the door
wide open so he could see the entire kitchen. The walls were a
cheery yellow, the cabinets a bright white. A hand-painted border
decorated the top of the walls, and painted grapevines surrounded
the doorway leading into the living room. A small, round table and
two chairs sat in the middle of the room; a window seat filled the
space below a large picture window overlooking the beach.

“Sure.” She moved a step lower on the stool
and sat on the edge of the counter. The T-shirt rode high on her
thighs, and her bare feet swung freely. Her gaze turned assessing
as she asked, “How did you know where to find me?” She stiffened
and her eyes widened. “Did you follow me last night?”

Her tumbled hair, short shirt, and smooth
legs distracted him to the point of almost forgetting his reason
for being here. He blew out a breath, then shut the door behind
him. “No, I didn’t. Although I should have, because it would’ve
kept me from worrying.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and
rocked back on his heels. “I’m looking for A.L. Black.”

She narrowed her eyes and squinted at him
like he was a bug that needed to be squashed. “Why?”

He took a step closer. “I work for Holden
Enterprises. We…”
No, not we.
“Max Holden is interested in
buying this property. All of his phone calls have gone unreturned,
so he sent me to find the owner.”

In the blink of an eye, her demeanor shifted
from guarded to combative. Her pupils narrowed to pinpoints. Her
lips compressed around the sucker stick, and the rapid rise and
fall of her chest had him a little concerned she might
hyperventilate.

So, that’s what ten feet of mad looks
like.

In a completely inappropriate response to her
anger, his heart rate picked up and sweat broke out on his
forehead. He didn’t like that he’d upset Sunny, but seeing that
fiery passion—even if it was in the form of anger—cranked his
damned libido into maximum overdrive.

“The property isn’t for sale.”

He wanted to loosen his tie to get oxygen to
his burning lungs, but that would send a clear signal he was hot
and bothered. And if he’d learned anything over the years, it was
to never give his thoughts or feelings away. “Mr. Holden is willing
to pay a generous sum. More than enough for…” He hesitated, wanting
like hell to refer to A.L. as Mr. Black. But he knew, deep in his
gut, he was staring straight into
Ms.
Black’s gunmetal gray
eyes. “The amount would be more than enough to purchase another
building and move the bar elsewhere.”

With slow, measured precision, Sunny stepped
off the stool and stalked toward him, stopping only when they were
toe to toe. Because she was so much shorter than him, she had to
crane her neck back to look him in the eye, but the size difference
didn’t slow her down or intimidate her at all.

She threw her shoulders back and glared with
unyielding determination. “You can tell Mr. Holden this property
isn’t, nor will it ever be, for sale. Regardless of his generous
amount.” The last was spat out in a way that suggested rather than
offering a large sum of money, Holden Enterprises was offering her
a flaming pile of dog shit.

Gavin drew in a deep breath and glanced
around the cheerful kitchen. He’d looked forward to seeing Sunny’s
house, spending time with her, and getting to know her. This wasn’t
the way he envisioned it happening.

But he was here, and he needed to continue
this conversation. He glanced at the inviting yellow-and-white
checked pillow on the window seat. Moving toward it, he asked, “Can
I sit for a minute?”

***

Sunny eyed her surprise visitor and debated
the wisdom of allowing him to stay. Being angry didn’t lessen the
staggering awareness flowing between them, or the extreme pull she
felt from it. Rather than being turned off, she found herself
imagining how fabulously intense make-up sex would be.

As she considered the possibility, a whisper
of a memory floated through her mind…
Who owns this
place?

She knew something he said last night
bothered her, but she got so caught up in the magic of his mouth
and hands, she forgot to go back and figure out what it was. The
memory was crystal clear now.

“You used me.” She jabbed a finger at his
chest. “You asked me who owned the bar, but you already knew. Was
your plan to get me all sexed up, then spring this on me? Did you
think if you got me crazy, out of my mind, I’d be agreeable?”

Shock flashed over his face first, then
anger, then a blank mask that erased all emotion. “I didn’t know
you were the owner until I walked into this kitchen. Last night, I
thought I was sent to take notes so we could
replicate
the
bar in one of our resorts. That’s why I asked for the owner. I also
meant to get the names of the artists, but I got a little
sidetracked.” His face might have been a calm mask, but his words
were heavy with emotion.

His surprise at realizing she was the owner
seemed sincere, but she was wary of it being an act, another
attempt to get close.

Unfortunately, if that was his goal, it
seemed to be working. Standing this close, his spicy masculine
scent filled the air around her and seeped into her lungs. His blue
eyes, looking at her with a mixture of anger and desire, heated her
from the inside out. And the primal drumbeat of need still
throbbed.

“No.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “No?”

“No, you can’t sit down.”

He stilled to the point of barely breathing,
and she had a brief moment of lucidity. This was where she showed
him to the door and told him to never return. But the lust pumping
through her veins won the battle over logic, and she heard herself
say, “Not until you reach into the top cabinet and find the
coffee.” She shrugged and took a step back so he could move around
her. “I’m a little bitchy until I’ve had my morning brew.”

His eyes flickered with amusement and the
corner of his mouth kicked into a lopsided grin. “Then by all
means, let's find your coffee.”

While he rummaged through the cabinet, Sunny
stood off to the side, sucked on her Dum-Dum, and admired the rear
view. Through the loose-fitting dress shirt, she watched his back
and shoulder muscles ripple and crawl as he moved boxes and jars
around. His tailored slacks fit his tight butt just right, then
hung loosely on his long, muscular legs.