“Did you ever hear from … hmm, what was her name again?”
He straightened to face her, then frowned. “What was whose name?”
“That woman from the dog park.”
His lips curved. “Victoria. And yeah, I did. The next day.”
“About the agility class, or something else?”
“She started off talking about the agility class, but then she asked me if I wanted to come over for some home cooking. She said I looked a little lean and probably needed a woman to cook for me.”
She laughed. “I knew it.” She held out her hand. “You owe me ten bucks.”
He pulled out his wallet, took out a ten-dollar bill, and slapped it into her hand. “I hate when you’re right.”
“Hey, I know women. She definitely wanted you.”
He gave her a very deliberate look. “Well, she didn’t get me.”
He walked away with a couple of empty bottles, leaving her standing there to consider what he’d said.
Victoria was quite a beautiful woman, plus her dog and Lou got along well.
She wondered why Bash wasn’t interested.
Sometimes the right fit just wasn’t there. Nobody knew that better than her.
Shrugging it off, she helped Bash shut down the bar. Why she stayed that long, she didn’t know.
Or maybe she did know, because after his staff left, it was just the two of them.
Alone.
Maybe that’s what she’d wanted all along, though she wasn’t about to try and figure out why. She was tired of questioning her motivations for anything these days. Right now she was just going on instinct.
Bash finished up in the back and grabbed a zippered bag that he laid on top of the bar. “Other than needing to drop off this deposit at the bank, I’m done.”
Chelsea was leaning against the front of the bar watching Bash close all the blinds. “You had a good night. It was crowded.”
“It’s been that way lately on the weekends. I think once we start serving food it’ll be even better.”
“When’s that going to start?”
“I think I’ve finalized what I want. Reid helped me make some changes to the blueprints, so now I’ve got to file for new permits.”
“A delay, huh?”
“Slight one, but that’s okay. We’ll get started within the next couple of months.”
She could tell he was excited about making changes to the bar. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
He came toward her, caging her between him and the bar. Despite having worked all night, he still smelled good—like a man who worked—and there was something very heady about that. She rested her palms on his chest, her nails digging into the material of his shirt. “So.”
He slid his hand up her arm, and a shiver of pleasure raised goose bumps on her skin. Without the crowd packing in and raising the temperature in the bar, it was cooler now. But she knew her prickled skin was due more to his touch than to the air conditioning.
“So, Ms. Gardner, what would you like to do now?”
She raised her gaze to his, saw the desire written all over his face, and soaked it in. There was something so compelling about knowing a man wanted you.
It had been a long time since she’d been the subject of so much want and need. Maybe that’s what had drawn her back to Bash. She knew the chemistry here. She was … comfortable wasn’t the right word, because being with Bash was anything but comfortable. He made her decidedly uncomfortable.
He made her feel all sorts of things. Hot. Damp. Pulse-pounding desire. Things she knew she shouldn’t feel for him, but couldn’t seem to help herself from feeling whenever she was around him.
She pushed off the bar and leaned against him, sliding her hand upward to trace her fingers around his goatee, then his lower lip. “I think we should just wing it, Mr. Palmer.”
His lips curved, and he bent to brush them across hers. A soft, exploratory kiss that soon turned more passionate. She breathed him in, felt his body align against hers as he wrapped his arm around her to tug her close.
Yes. That’s what she’d waited all night for—to feel him, to be able to touch him freely. Ogling him from afar as he worked just hadn’t done it for her. While she’d appreciated the view, she realized that hands-off had only whet her appetite for more. She wanted hands-on. She pulled his shirt out of his jeans and slid her palms up his back, loving the warm feel of his skin against her hands.
He groaned against her lips and rocked against her, his erection evident as he pushed her back against the bar.
Oh, yes. He fed her cravings by cupping her butt and drawing her even closer to her desire.
And when he rained kisses along her jaw and her neck, she shivered, especially when he turned her around and pressed her against the bar.
“Ever make love in a bar, Chelsea?” he asked, raising her shirt to fill his hands with her breasts.
She shuddered, barely able to form a coherent thought, let alone an answer. “Not yet, but I have a feeling I’m about to.”
He unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down. His warm hand cupped her sex. She pulsed, desperate for him to release the ache that pounded incessantly between her legs. He massaged her with rhythmic strokes, rocking his erection against her as he took her right to the edge, only to back off and bring her there once again.
And when she came, she cried out his name, throwing her head back against his shoulder and arching against his hand until she thought she might lose her mind.