Phoenix Burning (3 page)

The pixie had a sharp sense of humor. Alex found himself intrigued against his better judgment. “Jessa can be a little preoccupied when it comes to Connor.”

“Obviously.”

Her dry tone indicated she’d spent more than her fair share of time with happy couples. Alex looked her over while the beer stains kept her distracted.

She was cute, though no one could ever call her beautiful. Her hair was long, black and curly. She’d made an attempt to corral the thick mass in a rubber band, a losing battle as most of it curled wildly over her narrow shoulders. Her face was as pixie-like as her slight body. Her cheeks were round, completely unlike the high cheekbones Alex usually favored in his women. She also had a healthy sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Alex didn’t know how long he’d been staring, trying to decide what it was about her that intrigued him, when she looked up suddenly. “Do I have beer on my face or something?”

He was suddenly arrested by the power of her deep brown eyes. Forcing his brain to focus on something else, he shrugged and dropped his gaze back to the counter. “Not that I can see.”

“Thanks for the towel.”

He could feel her eyes on him. It was strangely unsettling. “Can I get you a drink?”

“A little something for my mouth this time?”

Alex couldn’t stop his gaze from locking with hers when he registered a hundred possible double entendres in her words. Her look was guileless, and Alex was reminded of his earlier misapprehensions about her age.

“Anything you want,” Alex said smoothly, to cover up his momentary jolt. “The first one’s on the house, to apologize for the little mishap.”

“Well then.” She hopped up onto a barstool. Her body landed gracefully on a seat as she lifted her eyes to scan the shelves of liquor behind Alex. “What’s your favorite drink to make?”

Her tone had turned playful. Alex hadn’t particularly noticed her voice before, but it was both husky and feminine and very pleasant to the ear. “I guess that depends. Are you a traditional girl or an adventurous one?”

Even as the words came out of his mouth, Alex wanted to curse. Was he flirting with her? Not that Alex Dalesio flirting with a woman who sat at his bar was a particularly unusual occurrence, but this one seemed somehow different. She was either younger or more innocent, he couldn’t decide. She didn’t really belong in his bar, much less his bed.

A slow smile eased over her features and her eyes glinted chocolate brown in the dim overhead lights. “Tonight? Definitely adventurous.”

Something inside Alex responded to the gleam in her eye and the tone of her voice. Pleasurable awareness snaked down his spine, and his cock began to harden behind the strict confines of his jeans. He fiddled with the black carbide ring he wore on the middle finger of his right hand. There was a matching one on the left, each sporting a stylized Celtic design.

“So, what do you recommend?”

“Rum or vodka?”

She nibbled her lower lip, her teeth catching at the fullness and pulling it gently into her mouth. The sight mesmerized him despite his reservations about her innocence. “Let’s start with rum. It’s early, after all.”

Without even thinking, Alex reached for a clean shot glass. He flipped it over and poured equal amounts of Everclear, spiced rum, and apple schnapps. He was unusually aware of her brown eyes watching him as he worked. Seconds later he set the caramel-colored shooter before her and smiled.

She lifted an eyebrow. “What do you call it?”

“Baked apple.”

Her face broke into an impish grin, and Alex tamped down forcefully on the smile that threatened to break wide open across his face. What was it with her? She wasn’t his type, no matter how infectious her smiles and laughter might be.

She tossed back the shot in one gulp and flipped the glass over with nimble fingers before setting it on the bar. Her head tilted to one side as she savored the complex flavors. “That was good. What else you got?”

“Are you challenging me?”

“What if I am? Surely a big, bad bartender like you can come up with something that’ll really take me for a ride,” she teased.

Again with the double entendre, but her body language was playful and not suggestive. Alex gave up the battle and chuckled, his face easing into a wide smile. “Love, I’ll take you for a ride you’ll never forget.”

“Bring it on.”

Ingredients swirled in Alex’s head. Sticking with the rum theme, he layered spiced rum, Kahlua, and vanilla extract in a shooter and set it before her. “Captain Louie,” he said in response to her unasked question.

She laughed and tossed it back, her eyes closing in brief bliss. “Now that one’s a turn-on.”

He didn’t even wait, grabbing bottles without conscious thought. Spiced rum, Mountain Dew, and Southern Comfort for an exploding woody; spiced rum and cranberry juice for a cheerleader rum; spiced rum and sambuca for a Good and Plenty; then spiced rum and Buttershots for a greasy pirate all passed her full lips. Each drink was consumed with the same series of motions and ended with an upside-down shot glass on the bar. For a pixie, she had an unbelievable tolerance for liquor.

“Do you know how to make a dirty hairy snatch?” The cadence of her speech was just starting to shift. Considering her body weight, she should’ve been passed out on the floor.

He paused, looking up and catching her eyes. Mischief hid behind her chocolate gaze, and Alex began to get the distinct impression that she was toying with him in some fashion.

Emory watched him pour Mandarin vodka, Bailey’s, spiced rum, and Cuervo Gold into a shot glass. She reached for it as he set it down on the bar, and their fingers brushed lightly. She snatched her hand back, stunned by the brief jolt of electricity and heat.

Every nerve inside her body came alive. A tingle snaked along her spine, sending a thrill straight to her crotch. Emory squeezed her legs together against the sudden onslaught of arousal. She’d never experienced anything like it. Ever. She craved physical contact, but her emotional fragility made it almost impossible. Sucking in a deep breath, she waited for the familiar anxiety to overwhelm her senses. It had always come in the past; hit her like a freight train with a wave of nausea and terror she couldn’t master.

She waited the span of two breaths, until the gorgeous man behind the bar tilted his head and slanted her a curious stare, but nothing happened. The slow burn of attraction grew, and Emory felt hope for the first time in forever. Basking in the unfamiliar sense of calm, she took a longer look at the bartender.

Somehow the word “sexy” just wasn’t enough to cover this particular male specimen. A shade over six feet, his lean, muscular body looked as though a master had sculpted every line. Tousled blond curls brushed his forehead, and his eyes were brilliant blue, but it was the smile that sent chills racing down her spine. Well, whenever he let it go full force, anyway. The rest of the time he seemed almost surly.

She picked up the shot and inhaled. Complex mixtures of citrus, spice, and the bitterness of tequila washed over her senses. Knocking it back, she let the taste wash over her tongue and down her throat before flipping the shot glass over and setting it with the others.

Her vision swam briefly, and the warm tingle sliding down her spine indicated a nice buzz. “I could probably pass out right now and sleep like a baby. Promise not to dump me outside on the street if I do?”

“Don’t worry, that isn’t my usual policy.” He lightly grabbed a highball glass in one strong hand, setting it before him without a word. The twin black rings on his middle fingers glinted in the overhead lights. She wondered what they meant, if they meant anything at all. Emory hadn’t been intrigued at all by either of the bouncers, but this bartender was another story. Not only was he hot, she could’ve listened all night long to the light British accent coating his words.

In her experience, bartenders were either surly or friendly natured. Most could at least pretend to be nice. They lived off tips, after all. But this guy was literally hot and cold in the same breath. It was almost as if he was beginning to like her against his better judgment or something. Of course, she shouldn’t have cared what he thought. She was there to find a random guy, someone a little less—everything. Hopefully she was buzzed enough for an experiment in casual sex.

“You know,” Emory began conversationally. “I don’t usually drink with men I don’t know.”

He filled the highball glass with ice, a smile tugging at a corner of his generous mouth. “Guess your mama raised you right.”

“If
that
were true I wouldn’t be in a bar drinking shots.” Why had he said that? She didn’t want to think about her mother. That made her think of her father. And that’s whom she was here to forget for good. Not even her buzz could sweeten those memories.

He filled the highball with water and topped it off with a slice of lemon.

She needed a way to get back the calm he’d given her just a moment ago. “So what’s your name?”

His blue gaze lifted, meeting hers with measured intensity. “Alex Dalesio.”

“I’m Emory. It’s nice to meet you, Alex.”

He set the water on the bar before her, his full lips thinning into a line. Awareness trickled down Emory’s spine, lifting the hairs on the back of her neck and bringing her body vividly awake for reasons she didn’t understand. Why was she so fascinated by him?

He turned away after getting the water, heading to the other end of the bar to help the customers who’d started pouring through the front door. It was as if he’d taken the sun with him.

Why was he playing at hot and cold? What purpose lay behind his actions, if there was one at all? Was he messing with her, teasing her? Or was it an unintentional response to the strange electricity flowing between the two of them? Regardless of the weird dynamic she seemed to have with Alex, Emory had to admit that it made her hopeful that she would have success with her little experiment. If she could tolerate an attraction to Alex, maybe finding some other stranger would help her finally put aside the baggage she’d been toting around since childhood.

She pressed her palms to her face. Her skin felt cool and clammy. It’d been years since she’d ingested this much liquor all at once. She would probably pay for it in the morning. She’d waitressed full time in a bar while Chris was in law school. It had been the perfect place to get rip-roaring drunk on her nights off. The odds of someone taking advantage of her in a gay bar were somewhere between slim and none. The regulars had thought of her as a sort of mascot, not a sex symbol.

Inhaling deeply, Emory took a slow sip of water. The cool liquid slid across her tongue, the lemon leaving a hint of sweet and sour. It wasn’t unlike the enigmatic Alex. Letting her gaze wander around the room, she realized some guy was watching her. Her heart rate picked up, and she squashed down any thoughts of the bartender with the gorgeous body and blue eyes. Was this where a stranger propositioned her for casual sex? What if the guy knew right away that she had little to no experience? Thank God she’d had a few drinks to loosen up.

Chapter Three

“You’re new around here.”

Alex tried to ignore the introduction that almost always began Wade’s pickup speech. The words shouldn’t have bothered him. Wade had been coming to the bar for more than four years. Alex had heard Wade pick up more women than he could keep track of during that time. So why did this latest attempt cause Alex to grind his teeth in agitation and strain to hear Emory’s response?

“How do you know I’m new?” She spun lazily on her barstool, one combat-booted foot braced against the rail beneath the bar. “What if I’ve been coming here for years and you’ve just never paid attention to me?”

Wade’s eyes raked Emory from head to toe, lingering appreciatively on her narrow hips and the dark hair curling over her slender shoulders. “I’ve been around for several years myself, sweetheart. I think I would’ve noticed you by now.”

“What if I hit on you before and you turned me down?”

A long, slow smile spread across Wade’s friendly face. “I can’t imagine a world where I’d turn down anything you had to offer.”

Fury burned through Alex’s body. His hand shook on the bottle of Seagram’s he held, and he closed his eyes to gain some control. What was wrong with him? Wade had every right to hit on Emory. This was Phoenix Rising, for fuck’s sake. Not only did Wade have the right to hit on her, he could take her to a back table and screw her sideways if she was agreeable to the idea.

The thought left Alex breathless, a fine sheen of sweat popping out on his forehead. Running his free hand through his already messy hair, he tried to gain back his equilibrium and found it more difficult than he ever would’ve imagined it to be.

“So.” Emory paused and took a long drink from her glass. “What is it you hope I have to offer?”

Someone waved at him from down the way. “Hey, can I get a Bud draft over here?”

Alex wordlessly grabbed a frozen mug from the freezer and flipped it upright, pulling the tap and filling the cold glass with frothy beer. He paid the customer no mind, his attention riveted on the pixie verbally fencing with Wade.

Wade stood, moving behind Emory’s barstool. His big hands settled on her upper arms and she tilted her head to one side. Wade’s mouth lowered, whispering something in her ear before brushing his lips along the delicate line of her neck and placing a kiss at the base.

Alex was mesmerized, the sight like a fiery torment he could not look away from. Sexual heat scorched his body, his dick springing to rock-hard awareness even as his anger flared to life. The sight of Wade’s hands on Emory’s body and her welcoming smile was like a kick to his gut.

Wade spun her around to face him, pulling her hands up around his neck and stretching her lithe body full length against his. A slow burn began to eat at Alex when Emory welcomed Wade’s embrace. She seemed a little awkward at first as she enthusiastically melded her mouth to his.

The burly construction worker settled his muscled forearms beneath Emory’s ass and scooped her up off the barstool. He turned away from the bar and carried her toward the shadowy recesses of Phoenix Rising. Just before the shadows swallowed the pair of lovers, Emory darted one glance over Wade’s shoulder, her brown eyes meeting Alex’s for the span of two breaths.