Sebastian threw back his head and silently roared, straining beneath the release that grabbed hard between his legs and jerked his lower body forward. He thrust hard, thrust repeatedly, spilling himself into the soap-scented steam when he wanted more than anything to spill himself into the welcome warmth of Erin Thatcher’s body.
2
“I’M GOING TO HAVE TO clone myself or forget ever getting the rest of this party planned.”
Erin shoved empty mugs and pitchers into a tub beneath Paddington’s bar, a full circle in the center of the high-ceilinged room with interior walls of exposed red brick. Booths ran along both the left and the right, and clusters of tables sat scattered across a high-gloss concrete floor that reflected track lighting from overhead beams.
Frustrated, she shoved the heavy glassware a little too hard and ended up splashing beer the length of one pant leg. “Great. Just great.”
Count to ten, Erin. Count to
ten.
“And, of course, I didn’t get to pick up my dry cleaning and don’t have a change of clothes in the office.”
Cali Tippen, the wine and tobacco bar’s number one waitress and Erin’s number one friend, dumped her empties into the trash and spun her serving tray onto the bar before offering Erin a commiserating pat on the back along with a clean rag. “Eau de Budweiser, huh? I doubt anyone will notice it over the Parfum Merlot or the smoky essence of
Le Cigare Cubain.
”
“Tell me about it. The smoke in this place? Even with the phenomenal exhaust system I installed during the remodeling, I go home reeking.” Erin grimaced. “And I’m still looking for a daily shampoo I can use daily.”
She sighed. She pouted. Neither did her any more good than did the shampoos. She was never going to get over missing Rory. His matter-of-factness. His ribald humor. His huge meaty hands that crushed despair and meted out comfort with the same soothing touch.
A touch Erin longed to feel again. Especially on eat-a-worm days like today when every time she turned around she expected to see him looking over her shoulder, reassuring her that he was happy with the way she was running his place.
His place.
Not hers.
She shook off a rush of melancholy. Chin-length strands of hair brushed the skin beneath her ear, a scratchy irritating tickle that renewed her aggravation. “All those specialty hair products and I have nothing to show for the expense but burnt straw.”
Cali reached out and tugged on one of Erin’s auburn locks. “Your hair is as soft and gorgeous as always. And if you need a change of clothes, I have an extra pair of work pants hanging in the car.”
Erin took the rag Cali still held and did what she could to mop up the mess that had soaked into her pant leg from ankle to knee. “I’d take you up on the offer, except for one obvious problem.”
Cali paused, frowned, glanced from her ankles to Erin’s, from Erin’s waist back to her own. “Hmm. Why do I always forget about your long legs?”
“Yes. Erin Thatcher. Redheaded stick figure. I know. I know,” Erin groused, tossing the useless rag in the bin when what she really wanted to do was pull out her dry hair by the roots.
Except then she’d be forced to buy a wig and she couldn’t afford to buy herself a beer. Not with this party looming and getting more complicated and expensive every time she turned around.
Enough already!
Her bitchy mood was getting on her own nerves; she couldn’t imagine why on earth Cali was still hanging around. Except that best friends did that sort of thing for one another. And right now Erin couldn’t have imagined having a better best friend. Or needing one more.
Looking Erin up and down, Cali grinned. “The red hair and the legs, I’ll give you. But stick figure? Not a chance. You’ve got two serious bumps going on upstairs.”
Erin smiled and returned the wave of a regular customer, an upscale professional type who’d settled onto one of the bar’s swivel-back stools. She moved to draw a draft beer. “I look like one of those long green bugs with bulging headlight eyeballs. At least you have proportions.”
“Right? Take two parts short legs, one part J-Lo butt, throw in a couple of perky Britney Spears knockers and there ya have it.” Cali handed Erin another frosted mug for one of the Rat Pack wanna-bes needing a refill. “Oh, did I forget to mention the extra fifteen pounds that this recipe
so
does not call for?”
“Puh-lease. You are a walking, talking recipe for s-s-s-sex,” Erin teasingly whispered into Cali’s ear before delivering the mug to the customer who’d joined his buddies for their daily, post-workday bull session and even now sat cutting the head of a cigar.
Impatiently twirling her tray around on the bar, Cali waited for Erin to get back before growling out a frustrated response. “Being a sex recipe isn’t doing me a bit of good seeing as I don’t have anyone to cook with.”
Her back to the far side of the bar, Erin turned her attention to the girlfriend who’d been her number one rock the past three years and now appeared to need a bit of shoring up herself.
With a surreptitious tilt of her head, she drew Cali’s attention to the man behind her sitting alone at the bar. “I’m not sure that sexy blond number back there wouldn’t jump at the chance to stir you up.”
Blue eyes as bright as the frustrated heart she wore on her sleeve, Cali peered furtively, hopefully beyond Erin’s shoulder and sighed. “He is dishy, isn’t he?”
And he was.
But Will Cooper was also the study partner Cali had been assigned at the beginning of the fall semester’s screenwriting class. That meant an automatic conflict of scholastics and pleasure. As obvious as was Cali’s interest in Will, she clearly had reservations about pursuing him outside the boundaries of brainstorming and critique.
Erin looked back at Will—who sat poring over a sheaf of handwritten notes, his head bent, gold oval-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose, the hand holding his yellow number two pencil rubbing back and forth over his spiky, sun-bleached hair—
then she turned her consideration to Cali.
“What
exactly
is
going on between you and Will? Tell me again why you can’t have your yummy man cake and eat him, too?”
Cali rolled her eyes, then gave a little shrug, a little sigh, a little bit of a pout. “Oh, Erin. I like him so much. We have a total blast working together in class. And playing together after class. I don’t want to mess that up. Will is a really good friend and good friends don’t grow on trees.”
“Good friends can make for good lovers, you know.” Erin grimaced at the hollow-sounding words. Rather than offering the empathy intended, the sentiment came across as a weak effort at placating her friend’s misgivings.
Thank goodness Cali was sharp enough, not to mention knew Erin well enough, to get it anyway. “Well, duh. I wouldn’t want a lover that wasn’t a friend. But I wouldn’t want to lose Will as a friend because we didn’t work out together in bed.”
Friends
and
lovers.
Funny, but Erin hadn’t even thought about sharing anything but the joy of sex with her Man To Do. She hadn’t thought about introductions and small talk and changing her sheets. She definitely hadn’t thought about mornings-after, or face-to-face encounters with the man she wanted only for his body and what he made her body feel.
And that was fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing wrong with a completely physical, emotionally-free affair. She sure didn’t have the time or the energy for anything more.
Nose scrunched in thought, she shook her head. “I don’t know, Cali. I can’t see you and Will having a bit of trouble working things out in bed.”
Cali glanced toward the front door as one of the couples who regularly frequented Paddington’s walked through and slipped into their usual booth in the room’s darkest corner. She pulled two wineglasses from the rack overhead and picked out a perfect Pinot Noir before sending Erin a pointed glance. “If you’re seeing me and Will in bed working at anything then you’re nothing but a voyeuristic pervert.”
Erin chuckled. “The very least of the kinky urges I’m fighting today.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Cali asked, focused on arranging the objects on her serving tray.
Lips pressed together, Erin frowned. It was best friend confession time. As much as she relied on Tess and Samantha for cyber support, a real life girlfriend had the advantage of being able to reach out and smack Erin back to straight thinking.
She took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m planning to seduce a man.”
Unfazed, Cali patted her apron pocket and came up with the corkscrew she needed. “Well, all I have to say is that it’s about damn time.”
Leave it to Cali not to mince words, especially when it came to Erin’s dating drought of late. Of late? Who was she kidding? More like her dating drought of the last three years. One relationship disaster after another. Men resenting the time she put into Paddington’s. Or finding her unapologetically outspoken nature a turnoff.
Which was why her Man To Do fling was not going to be a relationship. It was simply going to be fun. “True, though this time I’m planning to seduce a man I don’t even know.”
“So, you’ll find him, you’ll get to know him and…bang.” Cali lifted a brow, lowered her voice. “So to speak.”
“Well…” This was where it got more complicated. “I’ve decided to skip the get to know him part.”
Cali hoisted the tray onto the flat of one palm and, glaring at Erin, grumbled under her breath. “Your sense of timing never ceases to amaze me. You always drop your best bombs when my hands are full.”
“I’ll fill you in when you get back.” Grinning, Erin tilted her head toward the dark corner where the couple who’d come in minutes before already sat intimately embraced.
“The Daring Duo is waiting.”
“Well, they’d better keep waiting until I get there.” Cali gave an exaggerated shudder. “I
so
do not like walking up on their funny business.”
Erin had a feeling Granddad Rory would’ve shared Cali’s sentiment to the point of giving the couple his famous heave-ho. Then again, if Rory’d still been the one running Houston’s Paddington’s On Main, the bar would have attracted an entirely different clientele.
Times like this Erin couldn’t help but wonder what Rory would think of what she’d done with his dream. Or what he’d think of her. She smacked Cali on her backside, sending her on her way. “It’s not funny business. It’s the business of romance.”
Cali skittered two feet away and out of Erin’s range. “Maybe so, but we’re in the business of wine and cigars, a little Sade and Dido and even a little U2. Not the business of groping beneath the table.”
Erin delivered a pointed glance in Cali’s direction. “Be thankful Mr. Daring hasn’t taken to groping her above the table. And that Ms. Daring hasn’t taken to doing a lap dance for him.”
“Trust me.” Cali shuddered. “I’ll be the first to scream should I walk up on that scenario.”
With Cali gone about her business, Erin glanced the length of the bar. All the customers were set with drinks and in deep enjoyment of rich smoke and good conversation. She glanced out across the dimly lit room, wiping down the bar as she did, and taking pleasure in the richly burnished booth toppers and the lush color scheme of indigo and bloodred wine.
Tonight’s crowd was small but the hour was still early. The after-work rush began around six, reaching its peak close to nine. Between nine and eleven, neither Erin nor the servers found but the rare moment to take more than a quick bathroom break. The way she figured, the longer she held it, the more money the cash register was socking away.
Having revamped Rory’s beer hall into an upscale establishment better suited to Main Street’s revitalized urban scene, she’d done well her first year of operation, not quite turning what could be called a profit, investing what she did make back into the venture, definitely breaking even. Her five-year projection was finally taking on the guise of reality, looking more like an actual business plan every day when she worked on the books.
But if the end-of-month anniversary celebration bombed after her huge financial outlay, she was going to be up a certain creek lacking even the semblance of a paddle to save her sorry hide, not to mention drowning with all those wasted years of Rory’s work swirling down the drain behind her.
But she couldn’t think about that now. The thinking she did now had to be positive and productive or the resulting stress would put her into a too early grave. The Halloween anniversary party was going to be the talk of the town.
And it damn well better be after all the hair-tearing it had taken to come up with the battle-of-good-and-evil, black-and-white theme. She’d already planned her own mistress of ceremonies costume and only hoped she had the chutzpah to pull it off with half the necessary aplomb.
With Cali making her way back to the bar, Erin sent a quick glance around to find the other servers efficiently covering the tables, affording her a few minutes to slip into the office and drag Cali with her. Taking hold of Cali’s hand, Erin didn’t give her girlfriend the chance to say no, or what the hell, or anything else.
Once the door shut behind her, Cali pushed a hand back through her short mop of blond Meg Ryan curls and stared at Erin like she’d just taken a leave from her senses as well as from the bar. “You’d better make this fast. I’m afraid to leave The Daring Duo without a chaperone for more than five minutes.”
“Here.
This
is what I wanted to show you.” Erin picked up the magazine she’d brought with her to work. She flipped to the page she’d dog-eared and handed Cali the article to read.
“Men To Do Before Saying, ‘I Do!”’
Cali glanced up from the page of five men standing in a line-up, a height chart on the wall behind their heads. They were all over six feet tall. And built. And gorgeous in a male modelicious unreality as opposed to the very real, real-man appeal of Erin’s fantasy. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Not at all.” Erin’s sigh was heavier than she’d intended, especially after swearing off her earlier bad mood. “I’m tired, Cali. Tired of double standards that let men get away with casual flings while focusing on their careers. Tired of working and never having any fun. And, quite frankly, I’m tired of going to bed alone.”