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Brazen
Carly Phillips
Samantha Reed is willing to settle into marriage as a trophy wife to a wealthy older man–if it will help her aging father pay off his debts.But not before having her first, last and only fling–cramming a lifetime's worth of lust into one weekend with the first available guy she finds. And when her car breaks down near a roadside tavern, she sets her sights on the sexy bartender–Mac Mackenzie…the perfect man for her love-him-and-leave-him fantasy.Only, it never occurs to Samantha that she might fall in love–or that Mac might have a few fantasies of his own….



Rave reviews for the novels of Carly Phillips
CROSS MY HEART
“Who doesn’t love a reunion of long-lost loves? Add a diabolical villain, as Carly Phillips does, and you have everything you need for a beach read.”
—Columbus Dispatch
“Smart, engrossing and totally addictive! Cross My Heart is a definite must-have in this season’s beach bag.”
—www.FreshFiction.com
SUMMER LOVIN’
“Phillips’s light touch assures a happy ending to this diverting beach read.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A funny and touching family drama.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“A fun, yet emotional story. A story that will keep you hooked with its kooky, yet charming characters.”
—Romance Reviews Today
What’s steamier than a New York City summer?
Carly Phillips’s Hot series!
HOT ITEM
“Saving her best for last, Phillips wraps up her jocular Hot Zone trilogy….”
—Publishers Weekly
“Phillips has penned a charming, fast-paced contemporary romp-through-the-sheets.”
—Booklist
“Hot Item is a winner.”
—Romance Reviews Today
HOT NUMBER
“A veteran romance author who climbed to star status in Harlequin’s Temptation line, Phillips is certain to capture a new bank of fans with the fresh venue and stylish dialogue featured in this perky series.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Hot Number is a fun, sexy read. For everyone who has ever wished to turn the head of a guy, this book definitely allows you that fantasy while giving you a satisfying love story. Ms. Phillips has proven herself more than capable of delivering stories that touch your heart and your funnybone.”
—In the Library Reviews
“In the follow-up to last year’s Hot Stuff, Phillips once again dives into the high pressure world of sports. Micki and Damian each have quite a few issues to resolve, which adds spice to an already volatile mixture.”
—Jill M. Smith, Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)
“Carly Phillips hits a home run with the fun, yet touching Hot Number.”
—Jennifer Bishop, Romance Reviews Today
HOT STUFF
“This breezy book will likely score a touchdown with readers looking for sexy thrills and instant gratification.”
—Publishers Weekly
“This first book in The Hot Zone trilogy shines with Phillips’ trademark sizzle and sensuality. She delivers strong, appealing characters while exploring the dynamics of families—what brings them together and what draws them apart. The ending emotionally satisfies and gives readers a tantalizing peek at the romantic quandaries awaiting the rest of the family.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)
“Hot Stuff is a surefire hit.”
—Jennifer Bishop, Romance Reviews Today

Carly Phillips
Brazen



Brazen

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE
THE CAR WAS DEAD. Samantha Reed climbed out of what the rental company had called their best midsize luxury vehicle without bothering to try the ignition one last time. That final grinding sound had made things perfectly clear. Although she disliked abandoning the car in the desert, she had no choice. Reliable Rentals would just have to send a tow truck for their useless automobile. Too bad no one would be sending a search-and-rescue squad for the driver, she thought.
Drawing in a deep breath of dry air combined with dust, she took one last look behind her. The vehicle looked an awful lot more comfortable than she felt at the moment, but it obviously had no intention of moving any time soon. She had no choice. The Arizona sun had begun dipping below the distant mountains, and if she waited around much longer, she’d be hiking in the dark. Not that she wanted to hike at all. She certainly wasn’t dressed for a jaunt through the desert.
What was that saying about the best-laid plans? She grabbed her purse, left her luggage and gave one last tug on the hem of her newly acquired tiered silk skirt. A skirt she’d bought for its coolness and comfort in the dry desert heat. Of course, she hadn’t counted on a prolonged excursion while wearing it. This outfit had been a mistake. She hoped she wouldn’t say the same for the upcoming week.
If all she had to look forward to was a marriage as dry as this godforsaken desert, she intended to cram a lifetime’s worth of fun, lust, passion and excitement into the time she had left. Next weekend, she’d meet her fiancé at a seminar on risk management and financial gain at one of Arizona’s exclusive resorts, but first she’d take some calculated risks of her own. She deserved that much, considering she was sacrificing her life, giving up her future happiness, for her father. Years of compliance and acting like the obedient daughter had brought her to this, to the brink of marriage to a man she didn’t love. A man nearly fifteen years her senior. A man she scarcely knew.
She got out of the car, wobbled on the heels of her seventies-style shoes and was forced to smooth down her layered miniskirt once more. There may not be another car in sight, but she’d be damned if she’d moon the Arizona wildlife. She glanced over her shoulder at the wide expanse of emptiness behind her. It couldn’t be any worse than what her future held.
In one month, she’d kiss her dreams of happily ever after goodbye. But she wanted—no, she needed—some memories to keep her warm on the cold nights ahead. She would never experience what her parents had shared, an all-encompassing love…even to the exclusion of their only daughter. But she could experience passion before she gave up her life on the marital altar. Only now, when it was too late to change things, did Samantha realize she’d spent the past twenty-nine years on a mission—to please her parents and win their love. A futile exercise. They loved her in their own way. It just hadn’t been enough for Samantha. And in her search for more, she’d given everything she had in return.
When she’d promised her dying mother that she’d look out for her father, she’d been drawn into her family circle for the first time. Her mother had reached out to her, and she’d given her word freely and unconditionally. She just hadn’t counted on how much one promise would change her life. Her stockbroker father had hit a downward turn. As a grieving widower, he’d begun to neglect his business, then to compensate, he’d advised risky ventures for his clients in the hopes of quick gain before he lost their business for good. Things hadn’t panned out. To make matters worse, he’d invested personal capital as well. He’d spiraled into debt so deep it threatened his future. And because Samantha had it in her power to fix things, she would.
Tom, her new boss, courtesy of a business buyout, and her father’s country club friend, had offered a solution. More like a bribe, Samantha thought. Marriage to Tom would enable her father to pay his creditors, the IRS being the main one, without having to declare bankruptcy. Whether he was capable of starting over again was another question entirely. She’d offered him her savings, but even a financial planner who made more than a decent living couldn’t put a dent in his delinquent debts. Not so for a man who bought and sold companies on a whim. Tom’s offer had been hard to turn down.
She might not care if the Reeds were the laughingstock of the country club set, but her father would. He had little left, and the club provided his only outlet for socialization since her mother’s death. Without it, he’d retreat, living in seclusion and depression. Samantha didn’t call that living, and she wouldn’t place her already-lonely father in such a position. Not if she could help it. And as Tom, the wealthy wheeler-dealer had informed her, she could.
He’d provide enough money to bail out her father in exchange for a wife, a hostess and a trophy on his arm. Any good-looking woman would fill those needs, but Samantha possessed one extra quality. She understood his business and knew how to deal with both his clients and his competitors. She saved him the time and effort of dating and disqualifying the empty-headed women who lined up to be the wife of a rich entrepreneur. His words, not hers.
With her last hours of freedom flying by, her dreams had come down to a hastily conceived plan to indulge in an erotic interlude with a sexy stranger. She’d even dipped into her savings to help the cause. She’d splurged on everything, including the rental car that lay still behind her. She shot the vehicle a disgusted look. If she wanted to have a no-strings, purely sensual affair with the most desirable man she could find, she had to reach her destination first.
Shielding her eyes with her hand, she glanced down the long stretch of highway. If she could even call Bloody Basin Road a highway to begin with. She’d driven south on a road named Golden Guts after leaving the rental place outside the airport and decided she preferred New York State’s numerical monikers to the grizzly images conjured up out West. Which way now, she wondered. If she remembered correctly, there had been a ranch-style establishment back a mile or so….
A slight breeze picked up as she lost track of the sun. Goose bumps prickled on her bare arms, legs and back, and she shivered. Lengthening her stride, she trudged on, forcing down the swell of regret and guilt that threatened each time she thought about her plan. Once she married Tom, she’d be the faithful wife he expected, but she wasn’t married yet. This week would have to substitute for the honeymoon she’d never have.
Some beginning she’d made. Frustrated with the slow pace and afraid she’d twist an ankle, fall on the side of the highway and be mistaken for roadkill, she pulled off her shoes before continuing. The pace picked up and so did the pain. Small rocks lodged in the soles of her feet as she walked.
By the time she saw lights in the distance, darkness had fallen. Her feet were raw, her throat parched and tears probably stained her cheeks. Desperate didn’t begin to cover how she was feeling. At this point, she’d give her body to the first man who offered her a place to sit, a shoulder to cry on and a cold drink. Not necessarily in that order.

“HEY, MAC, SLUMMING AGAIN?”
Ryan Mackenzie wiped down the glass top of the old wooden bar with a damp rag. “You know I can’t stay away from here,” he told the table of old men who frequented The Hungry Bear.
“I can’t believe you’d prefer this joint to that fancy spa you own.”
Mac glanced at the scarred paneled walls, the crooked pictures, the pool table in the corner and the dartboard in the back. He inhaled and smelled a mixture of nachos, tobacco and beer. “Believe it.”
“Give him a break,” the tallest of the men said to his friends. “He might have money now, but a boy don’t lose his roots.”
“And mine are embedded in the same land as you, Zee.” Mac recalled the small ranch-style house he’d grown up in and the almost identical house next door. He and his sister, Kate, had been just as comfortable in either one, due mainly to the warmth and humor of the older man in the corner.
Zee grinned. “Your soil is just richer now, Mackenzie.”
The boys all chuckled at that.
“So what are you doing here? Lady troubles?” one of the trio asked him.
“Not me. Bear’s got troubles,” Mac said, talking about Zee’s son, Mac’s best friend and owner of the tavern. Mac picked up a damp glass and began drying. “You know he’s off chasing after his woman. I’m playing bartender in his place.”
“Hope he gets her this time. Your drinks suck.” A round of cackles and hoots of laughter followed that remark.
“Whiskey’ll cost you double after that,” Mac muttered.
“Definitely a woman,” the last of the men said.
Mac ignored him. It would take a special kind of woman to get him down, and Mac had yet to meet his match. He glanced at Zee, recalling the older man’s happy marriage, one that mirrored the kind his parents had had. Not for the first time, Mac wondered if watching them had given him an idealized perception of what family life should be. Few relationships could live up to the standards he’d seen growing up, and even fewer women respected those same down-to-earth values both families had lived by.
Still, he couldn’t deny the fact that hotel life was lonely as hell and beginning to wear thin. Laughter from the corner of the bar drew his attention and he glanced at his watch. Soon enough, the younger crowd would come in and take over. Judging by the increasing noise and the older men’s rowdy remarks, it couldn’t happen too soon. Mac spent enough time at Bear’s bar to know the men were biding their time. Thursday was Ladies’ Night, and the eighty-year-old set got a thrill out of watching the younger beauties. They got pretty wild, too, and Mac was grateful he’d be spared wet T-shirt night during this shift.
“If I were you, I’d grab me one of them spa bunnies at that place you own, instead of serving up drinks to old geezers like us.”
“You’re not me, Earl.” Those spa bunnies wanted nothing more than a chance to catch some sun and a rich husband. And the ones who already had a husband came to The Resort for a quick fling and whatever else they could get from the guy they earmarked as a sucker.
Not only was Mac tired of watching the routine, he was tired of being the target. Which made his occasional stint as Bear’s substitute the perfect escape.
“Another round, Mac,” Zee called.
He threw a glance their way. “You aren’t halfway through the first.” The old men liked their whiskey the way they liked their women. At a distance.
He watched as Zee pushed aside the red-and-white checked curtain to look out the window. The decor could use some updating, Mac thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if Bear finally got his lady after all. At least one of the two neighborhood boys would settle down.
“Looks like we got us a live one.” Zee clapped his hands with glee. “Coming up the stairs now.”
Mac knew Zee well enough to see past the jokes. The old man had been a father figure to the Mackenzie kids, Mac and his sister, since their own dad had died almost twelve years before. So Mac understood the loneliness that prompted Zee to act a little crazy in his search of fun, and the intelligence and humor that lay behind his penetrating gaze.
But that didn’t mean he’d let him harass an unsuspecting customer. “Leave ’em alone, boys.”
“You’re no fun, Mackenzie,” they spoke in chorus, just as the door opened wide and the sorriest sight Mac had ever seen stumbled through.
She was a lady…beneath the layers of desert grime. Black hair tumbled over her shoulders in wild disarray. Her shoes, heels from the looks of them, dangled from her fingertips as she limped inside the bar on long, shapely legs and bare feet.
A quick glance and years of experience told him her skirt was designer, silk and displayed an enticing amount of bare skin. She looked lost and alone in the door frame, with Bear’s prize possession, a life-size moose head hanging above her own.
Before he could see any more, the three old men had surrounded her. Mac looked at the ceiling and rolled his eyes, then made his way around the bar. “For God’s sake, give the lady some air,” he shouted.
The men scattered. And Mac got a firsthand look at the white tank top clinging to her round breasts with exact precision. Thanks to the cold night air, her nipples puckered against the otherwise loose fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. He had the insane desire to cup his hands over her breasts and warm the lady himself.
He’d gone too damn long without sex if this bedraggled female turned him on. She stared from him to the group in the corner.
“They don’t mean any harm.” He gestured to the three men ogling her without shame. He knew how they felt.
“Thanks just the same,” she said in a husky voice that he’d like to think was sexy by design, but since she’d obviously taken a long hike in the dry desert, she’d probably swallowed more than her share of dust. “My car broke down,” she explained.
“Have a seat and I’ll get you something cold to drink,” he said. “For your throat. Then you can pour your heart out to a friendly bartender.” After which maybe he could find a sweatshirt behind the bar to warm her up and cover her considerable charms. Before he acted on impulse rather than common sense.
She lifted her gaze to his and obviously caught him staring at her chest. A pink flush rose to her cheeks, and she not-so-discreetly crossed her arms in front of her, blocking his view. Her awkward smile disarmed him at the same time he noticed her eyes. The impact sent a jolt of awareness sizzling through him. He’d never seen such an arresting color before, a unique combination of violet and indigo framed by dark lashes and pale skin. Skin marred only by streaks of mascara and what had to be dried tears.
He found himself touched by the sight because this woman was real. Dirty, disheveled and so unlike the women who came to his resort to “rejuvenate” on a regular basis. In his world, a place far removed from the down-to-earth town of his youth, women viewed cosmetic and surgical artifice as the means to keeping their men. Natural beauty like this was too rare.
For once, he looked out and saw someone in need of more than a loaded wallet. “I’ve got pretty broad shoulders,” he said when she remained silent.
“I can see that.” Without warning, a smile caught the corners of her mouth and a sparkle settled in those eyes, which now openly appraised him from the top of his black baseball cap to the toes of his running shoes.
Since Bear never required a dress code for employees or patrons of his small establishment, Mac always dressed comfortably. Very comfortably. Mac knew he looked grungy and liked it. Apparently, so did she. He liked that even more.
“I’ve been walking for a while, and that seat you mentioned does sound awfully good.” She did a poor job of fluttering her lashes over makeup-smeared eyes. Damned if he wasn’t intrigued…and more than a little turned on. She took a step forward, yelped in what he assumed was pain and collapsed, sagging against him for support.
“I’ve had women throw themselves at me before, but never like this.”
“Maybe because they haven’t hiked over a mile in the desert on bare feet,” she retorted.
Mac muttered a curse and swung her into his arms.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She sounded outraged at his chivalry.
“Helping you out, unless you’d like to attempt that step again…” He lowered his hands as if to lower her back down onto the floor.
Soft hands curled around his neck, holding on with an iron grip. She was stronger than she looked.
“Ready to admit you need help?”
She nodded, then settled her body into his, so he felt the soft curve of her breast pressing into his chest and her firm behind nestling against his stomach. If he squirmed, he’d drop her, but ignoring the lingering sensations was damn near impossible.
She tipped her head back and sighed. “My hero.”
“Oh, brother.” Her hair brushed against his cheek. The scent of peaches clung to her skin despite her trek through the desert. His effort to block out the surge of sexual awareness that shot through him failed dismally.
Mac deposited her in the nearest chair, then lifted her foot for inspection. He ran a finger along the cut and bruised arch. Her startled gaze met his.
“I have antiseptic and gauze upstairs,” he said in a husky voice. Or at least, he knew Bear did. His friend had broken up many late-night brawls, and Mac had often hung around to help clean the place, and his pal, up afterward.
“Upstairs?” she squeaked. Then she quickly cleared her throat and started over. “Upstairs where? A room? An apartment? What?” Her curiosity seemed to overtake her initial doubts and she peppered him with questions, growing more confident with each.
“An apartment,” he said, amused.
“With a shower?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Shower and tub, why?”
“Curiosity. And you live there?” she asked, now wide-eyed.
“Yeah.” For the week, or as long as it took Bear to win his lady back. For reasons he didn’t want to inspect too closely, Mac decided against telling her that he was only helping out. It had been a long time since he’d been known and liked as plain Mac, separate and apart from Ryan Mackenzie, owner of The Resort.
He’d be the first to admit his own mistakes contributed to the problem. Wealth had come to the Mackenzies when Mac had been too brash and arrogant to understand how people, namely women, would react. A single, rich resort owner was a prime catch, and he’d stupidly made himself a target for gold diggers and fortune hunters alike.
Taking care of his mother and younger sister had forced him to realize his mistakes and grow up fast. The females in his family had relied on him for financial security and emotional backing. He couldn’t afford to let them down, and after his initial lapse in judgment, he hadn’t. Mac had trained himself to be wary, which was why he remained silent now.
This woman’s vulnerability appealed to him, and he wanted a fresh read, a chance to be liked as an ordinary guy with no preconceived notions getting in the way.
He glanced over. She sat fiddling with the top layer of her skirt. “Do you live alone?” she asked, this time without meeting his gaze.
“Completely.”
“Oh. Oh. Good.” A blush made its way through the dirt and makeup that stained her cheeks.
From embarrassed to brazen and back again, he thought. “Good?”
“For my feet.” She forced herself to stand on her own. “And my dignity. Do you think I could wash up?” she asked.
He nodded. “While you’re at it, I’ll send a tow for the car and I’ll have one of the boys pick up your suitcases.”
“The boys?”
“They surrounded you when you first came in. Now they’re eyeballing you from across the room.”
She grinned. “Oh, those boys. They drive?”
“Not legally.”
Her laughter filled the room and a few other places inside him he’d thought were frozen for good. “About those suitcases,” she said. “How do you know I have any?”
“Sweetheart…” His gaze trailed over her shapely body and white skin. “Everything about you screams tourist.”
He reached out to help her walk, but she shook her head.
“I can do this.”
“Okay, but I’m right behind you if you need any help. Up those stairs.” He pointed to the darkened hallway in the corner, and she headed off in that direction, unsteady on her feet. “One of you boys watch the bar,” he called to the group of regulars that Bear trusted as much as he did his best friend.
Mac stared at her retreating back, watched as she climbed the stairs, leaving him on the step below. Her silken skirt ended midthigh, which wasn’t a problem when they were on the same level. But he hadn’t anticipated the view once she hit the middle of the stairs. Nor had he realized how sexy and feminine her undergarments would be. As the short skirt flounced behind her, a hint of lace teased and tormented his already-active libido. Heat rolled over him in a huge wave. He broke into a sweat.
And to think, he’d almost refused to help Bear because he had a number of huge conventions arriving throughout the week. He was glad he’d delegated to his staff, entrusting the numerous doctors, lawyers and financiers to his employees. He wouldn’t have missed this for anything.
As he followed his sexy, straggly visitor upstairs, he realized he’d seen more of her than he’d seen of any other woman in a long while. And he didn’t even know her name.

SHE’D FOUND HER MAN. Too bad she had no idea what to do with him. Samantha closed the bathroom door behind her and stripped off her skirt, shaking the residual dust into the tub. Who’d have guessed the first man she laid eyes on, the first man under eighty, she amended, would be the one?
Her questions hadn’t exactly been subtle, but with those dark, deep-set eyes staring into hers, and that mustache lifting over a sensual grin, she’d barely been able to pull herself together enough to think clearly.
She pictured him waiting on the other side of the door, and her pulse pounded in a combination of anticipation and apprehension. There was no question the dark-haired, gorgeous stranger suited her perfectly. A bartender in an off-the-beaten-path tavern, he was a man she could thoroughly enjoy and then never see again. As long as she could work up the nerve.
Samantha located the towels he said would be on a shelf over the toilet, and hung one over a hook on the wall. She glanced around the room. Small but with all the proper amenities and stark in a masculine sort of way. No frills. Just a toothbrush and a bottle of aftershave lay on top of the vanity. She picked up the black bottle and brought the nozzle near her nose. One illicit sniff of musk and she was no longer alone. His scent surrounded her. He surrounded her.
She’d never been with a man wearing a mustache and wondered what kind of stimulation it would add to an intense sexual experience? She shut her eyes. Her senses soared and her imagination took over. Soft lips, warm breath and an erotic rush of sensation playing over her already-sensitized skin. Firm yet gentle lips nibbling their way up her legs, the rasp of whiskers along her thigh. She cupped her breasts and felt as if his hands had settled over the tight fabric, as if his fingers plucked and pulled, bringing her nipples to life.
She opened her eyes to find herself standing alone in the unfamiliar bathroom, thoroughly aroused and completely appalled. She had never done anything like this before, had never even felt anything like this before. Without meeting her gaze in the mirror, she removed her hands from her chest and focused her attention on turning on the shower instead.
Her hands trembled, hindering the process. How could she want one man so badly? A man she barely knew. She didn’t know the answer to that question any more than she knew how she’d find the nerve to go through with this seduction. Coming up with her plan from the safety of her apartment had been easy. Contemplating her bleak future had carried her resolve through the long plane ride out here. But now, faced with a sexy, masculine stranger in the flesh…
Samantha trembled. All she had left was this week. She hadn’t planned her life this way, nor would this be the choice she’d make if her father’s future weren’t at stake. But it was. And if her life came down to this one week, she’d better make the most of it. Her chance waited just outside the door.
If she wanted to find a way into his arms, she’d best start by cleaning herself up. But first, she needed to get a drink to soothe her parched throat, she thought, reaching for a nearby glass and filling it with water. That decided, she felt more confident. In a few hours, if she was lucky, she’d discover…how to scare the poor man half to death. Samantha caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and gasped, dropping the glass into the sink. With her dirt-streaked cheeks, tearstains and tangled mass of hair, how could she have considered seducing him? Whatever made her think he’d be interested?
Without warning, the door burst open and she had company. “What the hell was that?”
Her grab for the towel came too late because her fantasy lover stood in the door frame staring at her practically naked body. Okay, he’d seen her shirt before, but the sexy underwear, her one concession to femininity beneath the tailored suits she wore to work, left her midriff completely exposed. She glanced down. The small triangular scrap of material between her legs showed more than she wanted him to see at the present time.
“Well?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Not if her life depended on it. She was more concerned with covering herself. She tried to remove the towel from the hook on the wall, but the shaking of her hands hindered the attempt.
She turned to gain better leverage and heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Those things ought to be outlawed.”
Her hands went to her behind, covered only by flimsy lace with scalloped edging, and at that moment, Samantha discovered she wasn’t as brave as she’d planned to be. She was mortified.
How could she even think she could seduce a man? Nothing showed like inexperience, and though she’d had relationships before, she’d never tackled a one-night stand. After the impression she’d made, she wouldn’t be doing so tonight.
She’d blown her chance and devastated her ego. Not bad for a night’s work.
He brushed past her. A powerful dose of his masculine scent overwhelmed her like an aphrodisiac. As if she needed more than just a look to arouse her beyond belief.
He yanked the towel off the hook, making the maneuver look easy. “Cover yourself,” he growled.
Startled by his tone, she turned to look at him. His eyes had darkened, the smoky gray transformed into deep charcoal. Color highlighted his cheekbones and those firm-looking lips were pulled into a tight line.
“Now.” He shook the towel before her eyes. “Or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Yes, sir.” Her gaze slipped to his waist and the telltale bulge in his tight jeans. Pure female pleasure stirred inside her. Her technique might need work, but she hadn’t botched things after all. Her doubts scattered, along with her short bout of self-pity. This man wanted her, and she refused to question her good fortune.
Taking her time, she accepted the towel, wrapping the soft terry around her body until she could tuck the free end between her breasts. “Done,” she said, with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile.
A hoarse groan escaped her companion. “Time’s up,” he muttered.
Samantha swallowed hard. “It is?” To her chagrin, her voice trembled when she spoke. “You mean, now?”
She’d given him the location of her car and the keys, and she’d hoped to have clean clothes in which to seduce him. Her plans hadn’t included his take-charge personality. The differences between fantasy and reality came back to haunt her again. She wasn’t ready.
She’d have preferred a little get-to-know-you time first. She’d have liked a shower. Obviously, he had no need for such prerequisites, and nervousness once again replaced her prior certainty.
Yet when he held out his hand, she placed hers inside the large, warm palm. Touching him provided a sensual pleasure she couldn’t have imagined. If she allowed herself to think about what was to come, she’d pass out on the tile floor. His long fingers wrapped around her smaller hand. Fingers she had no doubt could bring great pleasure.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, what?” He couldn’t possibly expect her to make the first move. She licked her lips, uncomfortably aware of the small bathroom space and his overpowering presence.
“Can we get on with this before the room becomes a sauna?”
Apparently the man wasn’t into preliminaries. Samantha hoped he liked to bask in the afterglow, because the way things were going, this wasn’t going to be the slow, sensual experience she’d envisioned.
“I don’t think…”
“Oh, for God’s sake. You don’t want to go first, I will. My name’s Mac,” he said, shaking her hand with a determined grip. “What’s yours?”

CHAPTER TWO
MAC STOOD IN THE DOOR frame of the small bathroom, unable to believe he’d burst in without warning. When he’d heard the shatter of glass, he figured she’d come face-to-face with a rodent of some kind. Instead, she stood half dressed, staring at him as if he’d invaded her privacy. Which, considering the room she was in and her state of undress, he had.
“My…name?” She blinked, obviously startled.
“Yeah. I’ve seen pretty much everything, sweetheart.” And he knew what she looked like when she was cold. His gaze inadvertently went to her chest, now covered by layers of terry cloth. “I doubt telling me your name would be considered a breach of etiquette.”
She blushed scarlet. “Sam…” She paused in thought. “Just Sam.”
She hadn’t removed her hand from his, and he let his thumb drift over her skin. She didn’t seem to mind, or she was too flustered to notice. Either way, he liked the way her palm fit into his.
“Sam.” He played with the name, tossing it around in his mind, savoring it on his lips. Then he thought of the rounded breasts and the darkened nipples visible beneath the white top. His imagination conjured two perfectly shaped, creamy white cheeks. A masculine name didn’t suit her and he shook his head. “Doesn’t work for me. Short for Samantha?” he guessed.
She exhaled loudly. “Yes. But that doesn’t work for me.”
He smiled, enjoying this woman, if not yet understanding her. “Mind if I ask why not?”
“I’m on vacation, and I’d like to forget the people who call me that…at least for this week.”
A runaway like himself. He understood the need to escape from life, work and the people who occupied those other worlds. Family gave Mac the best alternative, but they weren’t close enough to offer a quick reprieve. Courtesy of her husband’s job, his sister’s family lived a couple of hours away, and with the birth of his first nephew, Mac’s mother had moved out of the hotel to be closer to Kate. With his only family miles away—including a new baby he didn’t see nearly often enough—Mac understood his recent restlessness. In fact, it was almost as if he was itching to settle down himself.
Short of that, Bear’s place was his best and closest means of escape. He glanced at the woman whose hand he still held, wondering how far she’d run. And from what. “And after the week’s up?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I go back to my life.”
“To being Samantha.”
“That’s right.” She pulled her hand back and hugged her arms around the fluffy towel. “I haven’t had a vacation in years. So I thought I’d take a little time for myself before I go to a conference next weekend.”
“Name someone who isn’t in town for a conference. Arizona has become the convention capital Florida used to be.” Which was why he was so successful.
His father had purchased desert land dirt cheap in the mid-1950s. After the older man’s death, Mac had sold a small portion for much more than he’d ever imagined, and expanded the small bed-and-breakfast inn that had been his family’s livelihood. By catering to the vacationer and the conference-goer, The Resort had become a gold mine. And the once-middle-income Mackenzies, Mac, his mother and sister, had become millionaires.
A fact he had no intention of revealing to Samantha until he got to know her better. “Okay, Sam.” She nodded her approval. “Now that we have that behind us, we can move on.” On impulse, he raised her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss on her wrist. Her pulse fluttered wildly beneath his lips.
She jerked her hand free. “No, we can’t. I just met you and I’m not about to hop into your bed.” She didn’t speak with much conviction, nor did she seem to realize the leap she’d made.
“That’s good, because I don’t remember inviting you,” he said with a hearty laugh. “But trust me. When I do…you’ll know it.”
“Oh…” She stared at him, wide-eyed and embarrassed.
Mac had never seen such mixed signals. Earlier, she’d appraised his body as if it were meat in the deli case. She wore sexy underwear he’d never seen anywhere but in a catalog, sensual clothing that invited seduction, yet she was holding on to that towel with a death grip. He deliberately tuned out the memory of what she looked like without it. For now.
The innocent or the seductress. Which woman was his Samantha? He couldn’t think of her as Sam any more than he should be thinking of her as his. But he liked the contradictions in her character and wanted her to stick around.
After suffering the attentions of too many fortune-hunting women, he was intrigued by her honest responses. But before he seduced her he had to be sure.
“I was trying to suggest you take a shower.” He backed off, walking toward the door.
“Mac, wait.”
He turned.
“I’m sorry. I’m new at this…I guess you can tell, what with me jumping to conclusions and rambling and…”
He stepped back inside the small room, effectively silencing her with his presence. Walking toward her he stood close enough to temptation to make himself sweat…without the aid of the steam-filled bathroom. Unable to help himself, he reached forward and took a lock of ebony hair, wrapping the satin strands around his finger as he spoke.
The pulse at the base of her throat worked overtime. “New at what?” he asked.
“This. Whatever’s happening between us.” She gestured to them both.
“Is there something between us?” After her vehement rejection, he needed to know what she wanted before pursuing anything further.
Her violet gaze met his. Honesty and sincerity shimmered in their depths. “You know there is.”
He admired the strength it took for her to admit there was something brewing, even though the pull between them was too strong to ignore.
“And what are we going to do about it?” He unraveled her hair from his finger and ran the fine ends over the skin beneath her jaw. “Sam?” He breathed her name, suddenly finding it important to respect this woman’s wishes.
A tremor shook her body and she sighed softly. “I don’t know.” She leaned forward, until they were separated by a fraction of air.
Body language was telling and Mac had his answer. He wanted to close the distance between them. He needed to taste her lips and learn her secrets, and he had a hunch this intriguing woman had many. But her answer wasn’t good enough.
He looked into her soft eyes. She wanted him, but there were things she needed more. Like a shower and some time to herself.
“You think about it…and let me know.” He straightened and dropped her hair, letting his fingers graze her shoulder as he did. “The rental place is sending out a replacement car. In the meantime, I’ll leave your suitcases in the next room. Come on downstairs once you’re cleaned up.”
She smiled. “Thanks. You’re a nice guy, Mac.”
He groaned. He wasn’t nice, he was horny. Which made him wonder what it was about this woman that had him acting so noble. He had no doubt that with some soft words and coaxing hands, he could have been inside her body.
Instead he was headed downstairs to a bar full of customers, a bunch of nosy old men and one major problem, he discovered when he hit the bottom step.
“What do you mean, Theresa’s waiting to talk to me?” Mac looked over Zee’s shoulder to where his one-and-only cocktail waitress sat nervously shredding a paper napkin to bits. “Shouldn’t she be working?”
“She’s served a few glasses while you were upstairs. Broke a few, too,” Zee muttered.
“Why the slippery fingers?”
“She didn’t like Hardy’s hand on her rump.” The old man’s cackle filled his ears, but his expression quickly sobered. “Her Mama broke her hip coming out of the tub and her mind’s not on work.”
Mac muttered a curse, knowing he couldn’t keep Theresa here when she was needed at home. Even if this was one of the busiest nights. “I’ll talk to her. Anything else I should know?”
“Hardy’s behind the bar watering down the drinks. Earl’s downing more than he’s serving, and the sexy lady’s luggage is in the corner,” Zee informed him.
“And what are you doing?”
“Checking IDs at the door. Less than a C-cup means no entry.” The old man grinned.
“Come on, Zee. You know we can’t discriminate. On Ladies’ Night, it’s illegal. If they even have a cup size, let ’em in free.”
His chuckle pleased Mac. Better than seeing the old guy moping and depressed, Mac thought. He loved the man who’d treated him as well as he treated his own son.
“Want me to take the lady her bags?”
“No, thanks, I can handle it.” Mac didn’t trust Zee not to sneak a peek, so he brought Samantha’s luggage upstairs on his own. Not that he wasn’t tempted to catch a glimpse himself, but the large crowd and an obligation to his friend had him running down the back stairs to work. If Samantha was a typical woman when it came to getting ready, he wouldn’t be seeing her for a while.
Since he definitely needed some time to get his libido under control, he didn’t mind. He’d given the lady time to decide. It didn’t matter that his body protested with throbbing intensity. Nice guys lived uncomfortably by their word…and they didn’t get lucky, either. Resettling his cap on his head, Mac rounded the corner of the bar and got to work.
Not fifteen minutes later, the woman who’d caused his aroused state walked back into the bar. He should have known. There was nothing typical about his Samantha.

SHE GRABBED THE FIRST cushioned bar stool she could find, not an easy task on Ladies’ Night, and propped her arms on the bar. Beneath her elbows, pennies, Abe Lincoln-side up, stared at her from under the scratched glass. Sam—she decided the name fit and she intended to keep it—was enchanted by the timeworn ambience of the bar.
Used to frequenting places like Lincoln Center and upscale restaurants in New York, she appreciated the chance to kick back and relax in a comfortable setting. Relaxing was a relative term, since Mac stood not a few feet away at the end of the bar, engrossed in conversation with a young woman. Judging by the white apron tied around her waist, the woman was his cocktail waitress and she didn’t look happy.
Although Sam couldn’t hear their conversation, it was obviously serious. Mac shook his head, then made his way to the cash register and handed money to the woman, who tried to push the cash back into his hands. Mac refused. The young woman then threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.
Whatever had transpired between them was obviously business, and yet the twisting in Sam’s stomach when the other woman touched Mac couldn’t be ignored. Feeling like an outsider, not to mention a jealous female—and not liking either—Sam shrugged and turned her attention away. Seconds later, Mac returned to the center of the bar.
He immediately began hustling between customers, serving liquor to smiling females. Sam could drink in his quick, sure movements all night. He was a study in masculine grace, if there was such a thing, easily grabbing glasses and tipping bottles as if he’d been doing this all his life. For all she knew, he had been.
Not for the first time, she realized she knew nothing about this man, except he set her body on fire with a sizzling look and, on some level, she trusted him. She’d be a fool to sleep with him otherwise.
She knew Mac could provide passion. His touch set off heated sparks and his voice shook her soul. If she wanted fun, excitement and hot nights in bed, she’d fallen into the right bar. Think about it…and let me know. Yearning mixed with trepidation. All she had to do was push her fears aside long enough to make the first move. The thought of Tom and a lifetime of single beds or separate rooms if she could manage it, clinched her decision.
“Hey, honey. Can I buy you a drink?”
She recognized one of the old men who’d cornered her when she first came in. “Sure.”
“Hey, Mac,” the old guy yelled across the crowded bar. “Two shots of tequila…and don’t forget the lemon.”
Mac turned their way long enough to raise an eyebrow at the request before finishing off other orders and making his way toward them. A nervous knot settled in the pit of her stomach. Her throat went dry, and Sam knew what she wanted. That was the easy part.
Letting him know would be harder.
He paused directly in front of her, bracing his hands on the old wood. Even the dark hair on his arms intrigued her, making her wonder what the texture would feel like if she ran her hands along his bare chest. “Tequila?”
She shrugged nonchalantly, though she felt anything but. “That’s what the man said.”
“That’s Zee to you, honey. And none of that watered-down crap Bear usually gives us,” he told Mac.
Mac glanced at her. “You sure about that?”
“Why not?”
“Ever drink tequila before?”
She shook her head.
“That’s why.” But he began working on their order, turning over two shot glasses and filling them with amber-colored liquid.
“Who’s Bear?” Sam asked.
“The guy who owns this joint,” Zee said.
“Your employer?”
“He owns the place and I’m working it. You tell me.” Mac set the glasses down in front of them, along with a saltshaker and a bowl of lemons. He slid the rest of the bottle over to Zee. “Go easy,” he said, and turned to the people next to her.
The bar crowd had more than quadrupled since she’d arrived, and Mac worked the room alone without a moment’s break. “He looks overworked.”
Zee nodded. “And underpaid.”
“I heard that.” Mac shot the old man a quelling look.
She tipped her head to the side. “Hard work’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“He gave his cocktail waitress the night off,” Zee explained.
“I thought I just saw her here,” Sam said.
“You did. But Mac here thought she’d be better off baby-sitting her sick mama than catering to us old men. Even paid her the night’s wages…though she won’t make any tips.”
And that explained the transaction she’d witnessed earlier along with the woman’s hug of gratitude. Sam felt like a jerk.
She blinked and looked at Mac, who’d gone back to serving other customers.
“That was nice of him,” she murmured. She’d not only stumbled onto a sexy man, but he played Sir Galahad, to boot. Warmth spread through her as she acknowledged that this man had character as well as good looks.
“Boy’s got a heart of gold. Always has. ’Course, it doesn’t make up for his sour disposition.”
Mac paused in front of them. “You bring out the best in me, old man,” he chuckled wryly. The light in his eyes and the laugh lines bracketing his mouth sent tremors of awareness shooting toward strategic body parts, making her sizzle and burn. She’d never felt anything like it before. Samantha rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms.
Zee ignored him and glanced at the still-full glasses. “You gonna sit there all night or you gonna give me a run for my money? Watch and learn, honey.”
Sam had seen this maneuver in college, but she’d never witnessed an eighty-year-old man make the attempt. Zee performed admirably. “You sure he’s up to this?” she asked Mac as Zee wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Apparently more than you.”
She took that as a challenge. Copying the old man, she licked her hand, poured the salt onto her skin, licked, downed the contents of the shot glass and reached for the lemon.
“Not bad for a first-timer,” Zee congratulated, refilling the glasses.
Sam’s gaze met Mac’s the moment the sour fruit reached her lips…because she’d just gulped a mouthful of straight water mixed with a healthy dose of food coloring. And he knew it. He winked, telling her to play along.
In that instant, Sam got another glimpse into her knight in shining armor’s character. He humored old men and looked out for damsels in distress. Considering her current predicament, Sam realized she fit that label, too.
Mac, whatever-his-last-name-was, was a sexy, hard-working, sexy, decent, sexy guy. The perfect man for her purposes. Sam liked what she saw and liked what she’d learned. She couldn’t have found a better man than Mac.
But first he had a bar to run, and from the look of things, he needed help.

OUT OF BEER. The ladies in The Hungry Bear never ceased to amaze him. The Resort stocked premium vodka, while Bear loaded up on dark beer. Same state, different breed of women, Mac thought as he headed for the back room to refill his supply.
He’d moved one box to get to the keg when a fragrant scent alerted him that he had company. He raised his head, but without looking over his shoulder, he knew. Samantha.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, without turning around. She was a distraction he couldn’t enjoy right now. Later, when he locked up for the night, maybe. If she was willing. But not now.
“A couple just walked in and they wanted a beer. The tap was empty and I didn’t see any bottles behind the bar, so I…”
“You were tending bar?”
“There wasn’t anyone else to do it.” She squared her shoulders defensively.
“I told Zee to keep an eye on things.”
“Zee thinks he’s drunk.”
That comment broke the tension, and they shared a good laugh. “You look out for him,” she said. Approval and something more gleamed in her eyes, making him uncomfortable beneath her knowing stare.
“Someone has to…he’s Bear’s father. The old guy lost his wife a few years back and he’s always looking for a little attention. It was nice of you to give it to him, by the way.” Not many people would give a lonely old man the time of day. Bear’s customers put up with the old coot for Bear’s sake and because like Mac, they’d known Zee and his friends forever. Samantha had done it for a stranger.
“How long had they been married?” she asked.
“Over fifty years.”
“Wow, that’s a long time.” A shudder shook her slight frame.
“Not for them. They really loved each other.” Mac wondered when he’d become the spokesperson for marriage. Not that he’d mind settling down one day; in fact, he’d like nothing more. He just never believed he’d find a woman sincere and honest enough to make the risk worthwhile. He glanced at Samantha. Until now?
Mac wanted the chance to find out.
“At least those years were filled with love,” she said.
He met her gaze. “Can’t see tying yourself to someone for any other reason. Might as well wrap a noose around your neck otherwise.”
She cleared her throat. “Would you mind changing the subject?”
“Why? Marriage makes you uncomfortable?” he asked lightly. If he had his way, he’d have plenty of time later to pry her secrets out of her. She obviously had many. “Don’t tell Zee or he’ll be giving you an earful about tradition, respect and good old-fashioned love.” The older man’s distinctive cackle filtered into the room.
She smiled, the wide grin knocking him senseless. There was no way he’d survive until closing with her hanging around, dodging his every move.
“He’s harmless…and sweet.” She shut the door behind her and walked inside, moving closer until he caught a whiff of the tangy soap she’d used during her shower. Though he missed the hint of peaches clinging to her skin, this scent worked on him, too.
She drew a deep breath. “Kind of like you,” she murmured, a nervous tremor touching her voice.
He lifted her chin with his finger. “Sweetheart, I’m the furthest thing from sweet you’ll find in these parts.” Cold, withdrawn, disinterested. Those were the nicer adjectives some of the women at The Resort used to describe the blunt manner in which he’d turned down their advances. But he’d learned the hard way, letting them down gently never worked.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.” She braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back until he hit the wall. Then with another tremulous breath, she leaned her body against his.
And then she kissed him. Hard and fast, as if she didn’t want to give herself a chance to change her mind. Which was fine with him. She’d made the first move, and Mac intended to make sure she didn’t regret it. Because with her soft mouth devouring his and her hands now pulling at his shirt and trailing up his chest, he definitely wanted more.
She didn’t give him a chance. Those fingers curled into fists and she shoved backward, separating them before he could act on impulse and take what he wanted. What she’d seemed to offer just seconds before.
Wide eyes, darkened by passion and a hint of insecurity, met his. “I don’t know what I was thinking, grabbing you like that.”
Her uncertainty touched him. “I don’t know what you were thinking, either, but did you hear me complaining?”
A slight smile took hold of her lips. “You mean you liked it?” she asked.
Reaching out, he grasped her forearm, gently pressing his fingers into her flesh. “You mean you couldn’t tell? My technique must be rusty.” He let his thumb run circles over her skin.
He took one step toward her, and when she didn’t back away, he locked them together once again. She tipped her head backward to meet his gaze.
“You can trust me, sweetheart.”
“I know.” Her wide smile reassured him, and he kissed her without holding back. She responded. Her tongue filled his mouth, while her soft sighs and little moans drove him mad. Apparently she’d needed reassurance, and having gotten it, she relaxed in his arms.
Her flimsy shirt already hung off one bare shoulder. Although not blatantly sexy, this soft, frilly thing aroused him beyond belief. Acting on impulse, he grabbed both the tank top strap along with the ruffled edge of the shirt and pulled both down far enough to let him taste one of her darkened nipples. Her moan of delight was unrestrained as she arched her back in wanton response, giving him complete access.
Mac had never embarrassed himself in front of a woman, but he damn near did so now. Another few seconds and he wouldn’t give a damn that a bar full of people waited outside that door. He’d scatter their clothes on the floor and bury himself inside her willing warmth. He needed to stop but wasn’t ready to let her go.
He had no choice. Her admitted hesitancy prevented him from going further. With more difficulty than he would have imagined, he raised his head. “Still think I’m harmless?” he asked, his breathing not at all steady.
“No, but you do taste sweet.” An embarrassed smile played over her lips. “I wasn’t sure how to approach you…but I’m glad I did.”
He’d been right. For all her attempts at seduction, she was very new at this kind of game. Which made him wonder what other secrets she kept. She’d already admitted to being a temporary runaway. And given the inexperience he sensed and the innocence she projected, he had to wonder why the urgency to come on to him at all? Every unanswered question made her all the more fascinating.
He met her gaze. Her violet eyes were still glazed with a combination of passion and disbelief. Mac understood. He’d never have believed they’d make such an explosive combination, either. He hadn’t thought this bundle of contradictions had it in her. He’d sensed her hesitancy and figured she’d bail out. Instead, she’d come to him. To Mac, the bartender.
If his instincts were on, this hot, blazing desire that flared between them was just as new to her as it was to…No. No. He shook his head. Desire wasn’t new to him. He’d wanted before. He’d just never come so close so fast.
He had the unnerving sense that one night with Samantha wouldn’t be enough to douse this high-charged inferno that blazed out of control. Worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted it to be. But until he understood what she was running from and why, he couldn’t take advantage…no matter how badly he wanted to.
With deliberate slowness, he picked her up and lowered her to the ground, making sure their bodies touched the entire time. Making sure she felt the hard ridge of his arousal. Her sharp inhale told him she had.
She’d pulled her still-damp hair into a braid that touched her shoulder. He toyed with the end. “It’s wet.”
“I didn’t want to take time to dry it.”
He played with her hair, running the strands down her cheek and along her neck, then following the path with his tongue. He looked up and met her wide-eyed gaze. “Where are you planning on staying?” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “Wherever I’m welcome.”
She was welcome here. The thought shocked him, but he realized he meant it. Keeping her around would give him time to get to know this woman, something he wanted, nearly as much as he desired her.
He bent his head. “The bed upstairs is a double,” he whispered in her ear.
Mac told himself it made sense. She needed a place to stay. He needed to keep her around. As difficult as it would be, he could keep a respectable physical distance between them. She might think she wanted more, but her eyes mirrored her soul, and she was still unsure. Not of the sexual chemistry, because they’d steamed up this stockroom in no time at all, of something deeper. Emotionally, she wasn’t ready for more.
When the stakes were high, and the prize worth winning, Mac had an abundance of patience. “Well?” he asked her.
“I…” He bit on her earlobe and her shudder went straight through him. “I check in next Thursday morning,” she managed to say. “My conference begins at eight on Friday.”
Loud banging on the door interrupted them before things got out of control. “I may be old, but my memory’s fine. It doesn’t take that long,” Zee yelled. “You got thirsty people out here.”
Her face flushed scarlet, and Mac cupped her cheeks in his palms. “He’s wrong.”
“He is?” Her voice was filled with breathless anticipation.
Mac nodded. “It’ll take the whole week. I’ll make sure of it,” he said in a voice he barely recognized.
Then he turned and walked out, leaving her to pull herself together while he hoped nobody else noticed how long he’d been gone. Or that he’d forgotten the beer. Or that he wanted Samantha so badly he could hardly walk. This woman, her honesty and vulnerability, made him believe in a future for the first time in years. Combine that with a sexual chemistry fierce enough to set his soul on fire, and Mac knew exactly why he’d invited her to stay for the duration.
Never before had a bartending favor held so much promise. As Mac got back to work, he wondered if anyone would notice if he skipped last call.

CHAPTER THREE
SAM WIPED DOWN the table and pocketed the tip left beneath the glass. As quickly as she’d taken over Theresa’s job, she’d fallen into a steady rhythm. She wasn’t half bad at cocktail waitressing. The overall pace here was slower than back home, which made for an easier transition. She enjoyed the customers, and they seemed to like talking with her. An easterner provided them with a source of amusement for the evening, and their slight accents intrigued her.
“Hey, honey. Another one in the corner.”
Sam rolled her eyes. She had no idea where Zee got his endless supply of energy. Hers was dwindling fast. She ducked behind the bar in search of Mac’s secret supply of Zee’s liquor.
“You holding up okay?”
Her heart tripped in reaction to the husky voice. Good thing her feet didn’t do the same or she’d lose her night’s take paying for the damage. She turned toward Mac. “I’m fine.”
“You had a rough walk over here.” His gaze lingered on her canvas sneakers. His caring amazed her. The man needed a cocktail waitress or he’d have had to close down earlier, yet he’d sent Theresa home, and now here he was concerned about a few cuts and bruises on her feet—the feet of a woman he’d just met.
He had a soft spot beneath the rougher exterior. Sam liked that about him. Too much, considering.
“Tell the boys this is last call,” he said.
She nearly kissed him in relief, but with a bar full of people, and their last session still fresh in her mind, she pushed the idea aside. As she went to serve her last drinks and clean up the increasingly empty tables, her nerves prickled with the awareness of being watched. The sensation only heightened as the night wore on, until just thinking about Mac sent her senses into heated overload.
Finally, she shut the door behind the last paying customer of the night. Without turning, she heard the sound of the stools being swung on top of the bar. Mac preparing to clean the floors, she assumed. She couldn’t face him. Not with her emotions so fragile after the way she’d attacked him in the storage room earlier.
“And especially not after agreeing to spend the week in his bed,” she muttered aloud.
The bar had been so busy, that except for his intense gaze and the times she needed to request orders, she’d managed to avoid anything personal between them for the rest of the night. Of course if she stayed here, she’d have to look him in the eye sooner or later.
Who was she kidding? If she stayed here, she’d be looking at a lot more than dark eyes framed by incredibly long lashes. She’d be looking at Mac. All of him.
Well, she’d wanted hot. She’d wanted to experience excitement and passion. He’d given her firsthand proof he could provide all three. The memory invited a rhythmic pounding and accompanying dampness between her legs. She refused to walk away now, even though guilt threatened her plans. Her conscience had picked an awful time to kick in.
She might not love Tom, and he might have bribed her into this engagement, but Samantha took commitment seriously. Throwing herself at one man while engaged to another bothered her more than she cared to admit. But not enough to change her mind. And she sensed that decision had more to do with Mac than the need for a one-week fling. She wanted this time with this man.
Tom would never know, and except for his ego, she wondered if he’d even care. Each of them would provide a function in the other’s life. She would be a trophy to hang on his arm, he would give her the cash to bail out her father. She was the only one not personally gaining from the deal.
“Except for the fact that it led me to you,” she murmured. Her gaze darted toward Mac’s broad back. Muscles in his upper arms and neck flexed as he worked. Strong and self-confident as he was, she doubted he’d appreciate knowing that technically she belonged to another man.
She ran her thumb over her temporarily bare ring finger. She didn’t like thinking of herself in terms of ownership, but she knew how men viewed the world. A man like Mac might get picky over little details—like her upcoming wedding. Since she’d never see him again afterward, there was no reason to risk losing this once-in-a-lifetime chance.
“Sammy Jo, come do one more shot before I let Hardy drive me home.” She rolled her eyes. She never should have told Zee he could call her by that ridiculous name.
“Sammy Jo?”
“Samantha Josephine,” Zee said. “You want to get to know a lady, you have to ask the right questions.”
“Sammy Jo.” Mac leaned on the handle of a large mop as he studied her. His heated gaze swept over her body, lingering on places he had no business observing in public. Places he’d seen earlier that evening. She had the definite impression he was remembering much more than what was currently before his eyes. “Sammy Jo,” he said again, this time in a much more seductive, huskier voice. “Now, that works for me.”
Her name on his lips worked for her, too, in any form. Forcing herself to break eye contact, she turned to her drinking buddy. “I’m sorry, Zee, but I’m done for the night.” She couldn’t swallow another glass of water without her bladder exploding. As much as she liked the old guy and enjoyed his company, she’d humored him enough for one evening.
With a forced smile, she looked at Zee and hiccuped. Loud.
Mac chuckled. Zee grinned. “Told you I could drink her under the table. ’Night, all. Catch you tomorrow.” He walked out of the bar, his designated driver hot on his heels.
Mac closed the door behind him and turned the dead bolt shut. Talk about defining moments, Sam thought. From now on, she’d associate the sound of a lock clicking into place with this man and this night.
“Alone at last.” He adjusted the brim of his baseball cap and grinned. Then he crooked a finger in her direction. “Come here…Sammy Jo.”
His dark eyes glittered with unchecked desire. Her heart threatened to explode in her chest, but she walked toward him, transfixed by the heat in his gaze and the way he made her body ache with one searing look.
Three steps, maybe four, and she reached him. Without prelude, he cupped his hands over her cheeks and kissed her. His tongue worked its way into her already-open mouth and sought hers. Sam expected a hard, demanding kiss, much like the ones they’d shared earlier. She could have handled one of those.
But the tender way he kissed her, learning the deep recesses of her mouth and then nibbling on her lower lip until she nearly cried at the unexpected sweetness of the assault—well, that she couldn’t handle at all. When he lifted his head, his gaze caught and held hers.
She couldn’t catch her breath, so she didn’t try. As for the lump in her throat, she swallowed and attempted to talk over it. “What was that for?” she asked.
“You looked uncertain and I wanted to make sure you remembered why.”
She didn’t have to ask “Why what?” Why she’d plastered her body to his earlier. Why she’d agreed to stay with him. Why she shouldn’t change her mind. He had no way of knowing she already knew. He was the answer to all those questions. His incredible masculinity and the chemistry she could generate only with him. She’d come west on a mission of sorts, but even in her wildest, most erotic dreams, she’d never imagined Mac.
He grasped her by the waist and settled her on one of the few stools still standing on the floor. Thanks to her loose, flowing top, his hands cupped bare skin, and the touch made her long for more. Instead his hands went to her feet, and he unlaced and pulled off her sneaker. He massaged her aching arch through her white sock.
She leaned back against the bar and sighed with delight. “Wow, that feels good.”
He groaned. “I could think of lots of things that would feel better, but something tells me you need this more.”
“You know a lot about someone you just met.” She was still thinking about the reassuring kiss, not her sore feet.
“You’re easy to read.”
She forced her heavy eyelids open. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” Because he wasn’t, which made this a very one-sided relationship. Whoa. Not a relationship. A one-night stand or, if things worked out, one week. But not a relationship, which implied long-term commitment. She was already embroiled in one of those.
Sam didn’t like the way her thoughts were going, and she tried to concentrate on her feet instead, which wasn’t difficult, since he’d pulled off her other shoe and settled in to work. His hands massaged and coaxed along her arch and up her calves.
Long, sensual strokes alternated with short, deep thrusts of his fingers into her tender muscles. “You surprised me tonight,” he said.
“You mean you aren’t used to being mauled by women?” Sam held no illusions. He might have taken charge, but she had definitely approached him first.
He laughed. “I was talking about you helping out around here. You pitched in when I needed it most. I appreciate it.”
His hands had moved higher, working their way up her thigh. She tensed, but under his continued ministrations, she began to relax again and enjoy.
“I can pay you Theresa’s salary,” he said.
“You already paid Theresa her salary,” she reminded him.
“Because her family needs the money and Bear won’t mind. You don’t need to work for free. It isn’t much, but…”
Sam could barely concentrate on anything but the feel of his hands on her bare skin and the thought of where they were headed next. But through the tingling sensations and the desire, she got a solid view of Mac. A special, caring man…hers for the duration of her stay, if she wanted him to be. And she did.
In return, he needed to know what she wanted from him, and that didn’t include cash. “I don’t want your money, Mac.”
He muttered something she almost missed. Something that sounded like “That would be a first,” but his agile fingers had reached the hem of her skirt and she knew she couldn’t trust anything she heard except her own rapid breathing.
“Why not?” he asked. “You earned it.”
“I don’t take payment for things I enjoy, and I enjoyed helping you.”
“I’m sure you picked up a lot in tips tonight, anyway,” he said.
“I didn’t do too badly for my first night.” She grinned.
“You’re a hell of a woman, Sammy Jo.” His drawl was deliberate, she knew, as was the way his finger dipped beneath the lace in her panties. At that first intimate touch, she let out a slow moan, accompanied by a tremor her body couldn’t control.
“Is this the way you show your gratitude?” she asked, trying to keep the moment between them light even as his finger moved over the lace, rubbing back and forth with unerring accuracy. It didn’t work. Fire shot straight through her body, making her burn.
“No, sweetheart. I’m doing this because it turns you on and I enjoy that.” To her disappointment, though, he slipped his fingers out from beneath her skirt. His hand shook as he placed it on her thigh. That telling gesture made his withdrawal easier to take. She wasn’t alone in this swirling, all-encompassing state of desire.
“But I want you wide awake and participating, not exhausted from working behind the bar.” He placed a gentle kiss on her lips before bending to retrieve her shoes.
“Go on up and I’ll meet you after I’ve cleaned up.”
Sam blinked, her mind unable to comprehend his words because her body was strung so tight she thought she might explode. She could attempt to seduce him, but she didn’t want their first time to be in the bar.
Despite her inexperienced technique, she’d made it this far. She was more than content to let him take the lead. As she offered a wave and headed for the stairs, she realized Mac was right. She was exhausted. From the look of things down here, he might be a while and she could put the time to good use. After she relaxed, she would set exactly the right mood.

MAC HIT THE TOP STEP at a run. When was the last time he had a woman he’d invited warming his bed? Okay, not his bed, but he’d make do. Because not only did he like what he saw, but he liked what he’d learned about her, too. She wasn’t selfish and greedy, but considerate and giving beyond belief. Not only to Mac when he needed a hand, but to Zee and the other regular customers, who made it a point to mention how much they liked his new waitress. She fit in, which surprised him, considering he’d bet his last dollar she’d never waited tables in her life.
They generated such instant and spontaneous combustion, it was hard to believe he’d only known Samantha for a couple of hours. When he opened the door, he walked into a candlelit room. He had to give her credit for ingenuity. She must have snuck back downstairs while he was cleaning and swiped the red candle holders from the tables. Thick white candles flickered in the darkness, casting a muted glow, creating a sexy atmosphere.
Mac’s gaze went straight for the bed to see what other surprises awaited him. Samantha had crawled on top of the covers fully dressed, cuddled up with one pillow…and had fallen fast asleep.

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