Phoenix Burning (7 page)

Why was his heart hammering in his chest? “How do you know her?”

“She runs the flower shop around the corner.”

A flower shop? Somehow it seemed entirely too apropos, a pixie in a flower shop.

“In fact, I could use a couple of hanging baskets for the house if you’d be interested in going over to pick them out. I’ve got a lot to do this afternoon.” Jessa disappeared down the hallway toward Connor’s office before Alex could reply.

He glanced at the clock. It was just after twelve. He had plenty of time before the Saturday afternoon crowd started to wander in. Reaching behind his waist, he untied his apron and tossed it onto the nearest stack of liquor. At this point, was there really anything to lose?

* * *

“I’m really glad you decided to have lunch with me, Emory.” Donovan reached across the counter and took her hand. “It’s so nice to have fellow business owners in the downtown area that understand how important it is to maintain the hometown image we have here.”

She nodded because there was nothing else to do. It wasn’t as if the bonehead had asked her what she thought downtown ought to look like.

“Now that I’ve gotten the mayor on my side, things should really take off.”

“The mayor?” Something told her there was some shady business going on at city hall.

“The mayor and I go way back. He and I went to college together. He’s a very unusual guy.” MacIntyre’s oily smile made her skin crawl. “Mayor Strand is really in touch with his feminine side, if you know what I mean.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth for a kiss. “I’m nothing like that, Emory. I’m straight as an arrow.”

Emory fought back a stab of anger and glued her mouth shut. This was wrong. Being with him was wrong. Which was ironic since her father would have loved him. Her father had spent decades telling her that she’d never be good enough for the Donovans of the world, the men who wanted a woman who knew her place.

She searched for something to say that would diffuse his romantic intentions. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk about the petition.”

“The petition.”

“Do you have it with you?”

He released her hand, his expression settling into something she could label only as careful. “It’s in the car. Do you want me to get it?”

“Yes, please.”

His brief retreat gave her a few minutes to scrape her courage together. He reminded her so much of her father. A slick, suave exterior that drew you in, and a cold, controlling interior that made you want to run. She’d gone out with him because he’d asked her, because she was willing to try anything.

The first date had been mediocre at best. As usual, she’d been tongue tied and shy. He’d seemed to like her demure attitude, asking her out again almost immediately. It was on the second date where he’d started to show his true colors. He’d ordered her food, criticized her clothing, and pinned her to his side like a dog on a leash. She’d spent a good portion of the evening hiding in the restroom, trying not to hyperventilate as her anxiety reached uncontrollable heights.

Donovan reentered the shop and set the sheaf of papers on the counter beside her. “I’m hoping your eagerness to see the petition means you want to sign it.”

Two signatures caught her eye. Dacey Tolliver and Clement Latham? Why would a woman who owned a bookshop and the proprietor of an art gallery sign a petition like this?

“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses about the lewd conduct at the bar.” Donovan’s smile was as oily as his gelled hair.

“Is that the basis of your complaint against them?” She thought about the skintight uniforms he’d chosen for his wait staff. “You think they’re violating public indecency laws?”

“Of course!” His tone took on the Captain Downtown cadence that Fox claimed induced mega migraine headaches. “The kinds of riffraff that go to that place aren’t the kind of patrons I want in my establishment.”

“So the Phoenix isn’t a threat to you financially?” She could practically smell the bullshit. There was something else going on here.

“Public displays of sexual acts have no place in our city. The people who go there are crass and rowdy. They cause trouble and commit crimes. Law enforcement has been looking the other way for years now and it has to stop.” His face was turning red.

If law enforcement had looked the other way, Emory suspected it was because they either enjoyed hanging out there, or what actually went on inside was still at more of an urban myth status. Still, she knew there was more to MacIntyre’s problem than he would admit. “So the
entire
basis of your petition is public indecency?” She felt like Chris working a deposition.

“Yes!”

“What, exactly, constitutes public indecency? The current laws covering nudity exclude bars like the Phoenix from the list of public places as long as they have strict age restrictions and don’t have a menu large enough to qualify them as a restaurant. There’s no prostitution going on, it’s consensual, and I didn’t see anything that struck me as a violation of the law.” That was sort of stretching the truth, since fornicating in public most likely fell under the heading of “stuff the cops purposely didn’t see.” On the other hand, she wasn’t going to be the one to blow the whistle.

He absorbed her careful speech for several minutes. “Did you say
what you saw
?”

“Are you telling me you’ve never been inside?” A strange thought occurred to her. What if MacIntyre’s entire campaign against the Phoenix was based on that urban myth? That would almost certainly mean he had ulterior motives of the economic variety.

“What goes on in there is common knowledge. I don’t need to immerse myself in that filth to know it’s wrong. The owner is a convicted criminal, and the people who work for him are no better than thugs and degenerates.”

His words were coated in a thick layer of derision. She wondered if the doorman at the Phoenix had strict orders
not
to let Captain Downtown into the bar. In fact, it would make perfect sense that they’d keep out anyone with a vested interest in making trouble.

So shocked and angry on Alex’s behalf, she didn’t pick up on MacIntyre’s agitation until it was too late. “I want to know if you’ve actually been inside that cesspool.” His voice was dangerously rough.

The only thing she had on her side was logic. “I wanted to see why you’re attempting to close down a locally owned business. I don’t condemn something I have no knowledge of, Mr. MacIntyre.”

“Donovan!” His voice thundered in her ears. “You
will
call me by my name. And I don’t know what you’re playing at, going into a place like that, but it will stop.” He grabbed her arm above the elbow, squeezing hard. “I’ve tried to be nice and give you time to adjust to the idea of the two of us as a couple, but it’s becoming readily apparent that I need to spell it out.” Her arm was in danger of going numb. “I will have you, Emory Banks.”

His harsh tone was so much like her father’s. The cutting-edge whipped across her psyche and loosed a giant miasma of darkness that threatened to suck her in. She was sinking, falling back into a well of doubt and recrimination that would leave her grasping for a shred of self.

Somewhere in the background, the bell over the front door chimed. Donovan dropped her arm and moved to block her view of the door. This was going to be her only chance of escape. Forcing her body into action, Emory stepped past him to face her potential customer.

It was Alex.

“Am I interrupting something?” His blue gaze seemed to move between her and MacIntyre as if trying to decipher exactly what was going on.

MacIntyre puffed up like an arrogant peacock. “Actually, you are.”

The sight of Alex standing in her shop swept the haze from her mind. His bright hair curled boyishly around his ears. It stood out as though he’d been stabbing his fingers through it. His T-shirt was dark blue today, the edges hanging loose over the low-slung waistband of his worn jeans.

He met her gaze, something in his eyes touching her deeply, reminding her of the brief jolt of electricity from the night before. As if he had released some sort of spell, her limbs relaxed. Seconds later she was running full force at him, praying he’d open his arms for her.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” She pressed her lips to his, kisses now and questions later.

His kiss erased the darkness, leaving nothing but white-hot desire in its wake. His lips were softer than she ever could have imagined, moving in a steady rhythm that matched the fierce beating of her heart and the thrum of longing that made her pussy wet with cream.

He released her lips, keeping her body full-length against his. “Of course I’m here, love. Have you been waiting long?”

Behind her, Emory could hear MacIntyre scooping up the petition and stuffing it back into its envelope. “We’re not done discussing this topic, Emory.”

From the protective circle of Alex’s embrace, she felt strangely brave. “Oh, I know we’re not, Mr. MacIntyre. I think it’s a topic that needs to be addressed before there’s a big mistake made.”

MacIntyre’s icy stare should have given her frostbite, but she managed to give him a sickeningly sweet smile before he disappeared out the door.

Chapter Seven

Alex held Emory as tight as he dared, feeling as if the last few minutes were part of a bizarre Twilight Zone episode. Once the door closed, she collapsed against his chest as though her body had gone completely boneless.

She looked much as she had the night before. Baggy, khaki-green cargo pants cut off below the knee, a man’s button down over a navy camisole with big white flowers stenciled onto it, and sandals. Her toenails were painted bright purple. The thick hair piled on top of her head was trying desperately to escape its confinement by curling around her face.

Jessa’s plants had been a convenient excuse to come to the shop, but they could wait. Now he intended to learn more about the pixie who hadn’t been far from his thoughts since the moment she’d walked into the bar. He certainly hadn’t expected her to fling herself into his arms the moment he walked in.

“Emory, are you all right?” Alex rubbed one palm against her back, trying to soothe her.

“I can’t believe I did that. I’m such an idiot!” She mumbled against his chest.

“I’m sorry?” He stiffened, wondering if she was referring to the kiss. As far as he was concerned, the only idiotic thing about that kiss was that he’d ever let it end.

She pulled away far enough to look up into his face. “I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about what I said to MacIntyre.”

“Captain Downtown?” Several of his waitresses had been known to stop by the Phoenix after their shifts. Alex detested the little prick. The stories MacIntyre’s staff told about him put him instantly on Alex’s biggest asshole list.

She dissolved into giggles that had him grinning like a lunatic. Her laughter was absolutely infectious. “I didn’t realize that was his official nickname. My friend Morgan and I started calling him that when he took over the chamber of commerce after becoming an alderman.”

“Morgan’s the one who got me started.”

She pulled away, moving toward the door and flipping the sign from open to closed. “Yeah, Morgan’s great.”

She seemed almost jealous. But that was crazy. Wasn’t it? “I’ve known Morgan forever. We’re good friends. She and my boss’s wife, Jessa, hang out. If you know Morgan, I’m surprised you’d never met Jessa before she dumped beer on you last night.”

Reaching out, Emory brushed her fingertips over the fronds of a potted palm. Alex’s dick was jealous of every touch, wondering if she’d be that gentle with a lover. “I think Morgan has mentioned Jessa before. I just never made the connection.” She seemed to be mulling something over. “Why did you tell me I didn’t belong in your bar?”

He was at a loss as to how he could explain away his rude behavior the night before. “You seemed lost.” He struggled to find the right words. “I wanted to put you in my pocket, but that’s not really my right. I suppose I was trying to keep you from making any mistakes you’d regret.”
Like the one you probably made with Wade.

The thought of her and Wade fucking in the shadows of the bar had Alex clenching his fists and fighting for control. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t justify it, but he didn’t like the idea of anyone else touching her. She deserved better than a casual lay.

“I didn’t have sex with Wade.”

He wasn’t certain if his brain had fabricated the words because he wanted to hear them, or if she’d really said them.

“Although I don’t know why it matters who I screw since you’re obviously in a relationship.”

“I didn’t have sex with Celeste last night.” The words tumbled out with all the charm of a hormonal teenage confession. “I mean, I have before, but things sort of ended last night.”

If he hadn’t known better, he’d think she was laughing at him. “Sort of ended? How long had the two of you been together?”

“Four months? I don’t usually keep track.”

She drifted toward the other side of the shop, moving through the plants with a watering can she’d picked up off the floor. “How long is your average relationship?”

He’d had this conversation with more women than he could remember. This was the first time he’d ever experienced something that felt strangely like shame. “A month or two, give or take a month.”

Cupping a beautiful white lily trimmed in pink, she gave him a smile that sent a jolt right to his groin. “At least I don’t have to worry about you overstaying your welcome.”

Her comment stung though he deserved it. “Speaking of welcome. Why the big show? Or was that strictly for Captain Downtown?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Why didn’t you have sex with Wade?”

She set the watering can down and turned to face him. How had he ever thought her anything but a woman? “I wanted to have sex with Wade.”

He felt as if his whole world hinged on her next statement. “But?”

“I think I was sort of stuck on you.”