He was so wrong.
He smiled. “And I sure as hell don’t believe you’re frigid.”
Chapter Two
Savannah Nash didn’t know who he was and Connor Hughes knew he’d better tell her. Except she didn’t want to know and oddly he didn’t want to do anything she didn’t want him to. Odd—because Connor generally did whatever he wanted.
Okay, so he didn’t want to tell her. Not yet.
How he’d so quickly gotten over the tiredness and anger that had been hounding him all day, he didn’t know.
“I need to finished clearing that up.” She strode away from him and bent to finish sweeping the glass fragments into the dustpan.
Okay, he did know. In her long, sleek black skirt and her starched white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to expose slender wrists, Savannah Nash looked like a strict school ma'am from last century. Sexiest school ma'am ever. He’d checked her hands, wrists, neck, and knew she wore no jewellery.
No ring, no chain. No claim.
She was single, of that he was certain. But whether she was available was the unanswered question.
He shifted on the bar stool, trying to ease the way his cock was straining tightly against his clothing as the beautiful bartender straightened.
Stand. Touch. Take.
His body screamed at him. He tried to fight back with his brain. He shouldn’t be doing this. He ought to be home and checking the day’s notes from his stand-in manager. There were a zillion things he ought to be doing instead of sitting like a mesmerized fool just watching a woman.
But man, what a woman.
Well, if he was going to stay, then he should talk to her. Find out her agenda. But other things were distracting him from that purpose. Her brown eyes for one. Velvety, deep, secretive. And her long dark hair. He’d have thought it’d be easier for her to have it tied back somehow, out of the way while she worked. Instead it hung in a glossy curtain down her back, immaculate and smooth. In her appearance, and in her work, she was all cool, perfect precision.
But something simmered within her.
He knew why those jerks couldn’t resist trying to bait her. She was beautiful. And cold.
She was also tired. And perhaps, not that cold at all. When he’d watched her take down that tall asshole a few nights ago, Connor had stood, stepping in close, in case she’d needed help.
She hadn’t.
She hadn’t remembered he’d been there until he’d just told her. Until then there’d been nothing in her eyes but cool defiance. A denial of any need.
But there was need.
Very, very slowly he sipped his beer. He needed it now more than when he’d first walked in riled from the day and keen to question her motives. He knew she was Savannah Nash and that she came from Belle, Louisiana and that her father had attended several of Rex’s talks. Only he’d been spectacularly dissatisfied once he’d put Rex’s throw-away ideas into action. And he’d wanted to complain.
But Connor wasn’t letting anyone cloud Summerhill’s reputation.
Just like taking to the slopes, playing the stock market was always a risk. People had to research, make their own calculations, take responsibility for their own actions.
Which wasn’t to say Connor didn’t like to offer a helping hand if someone was struggling.
Because he was a man of action, not jumping in sooner tonight to tell those assholes where they could stick it had taken more self-control than he’d thought he had. But he knew if he was to have any chance with Savannah, he’d have to stand down and let her get on with it. Getting all he-man hero in her face would only backfire, he’d learned that from the other night. This was a woman who wanted to feel in charge. So he’d waited ’til she’d stepped out before getting rid of them.
By just looking at her, the heat in his blood had turned from anger to attraction. Raw, unstoppable attraction of a force that stole his breath. It didn’t matter that he questioned her reasons for being here. That he didn’t trust her. Because something had changed within her. That cold, cold veil of professionalism had lifted and he’d seen warmth. Warmth when she’d looked at him.
All his pre-planned questions vanished. All that mattered was holding that look within her. Keeping her like that, hotter than a naked flame. And damn if he just wasn’t an itty, bitty moth.
The way she’d gently tended to his cut, despite that veneer of impatience? For a second he’d thought she was going to kiss him. He’d held his breath, held utterly still, aware that something as small as a smile might make her pull away. But she’d pulled away anyway. A stunned expression crossing her face, like she couldn’t believe the impulse within herself.
He couldn’t believe it either.
There was no way he was leaving her yet.
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. A frown creased her perfectly made-up face. He braced himself in delight—she was back to the cold-as-snow bartender?
“What?” he asked, unable to stop his smile now. He did like the daggers in her eyes. Her death-look was way better than his.
“I don’t appreciate you looking at me like I’m a piece of meat,” she said sharply. But color mounted in her cheeks.
How could such acidity tumble from such soft, full lips? They looked so kissable. Yeah, she was so freaking edible.
Sugarlips.
He wanted to bite. Hard. She was trying to put him off, all it did was make him want her more. He hadn’t tasted, hadn’t felt his sex drive soar like this in a long time. He never allowed distraction of any sort. Seeing the mess his father Rex had made with his countless affairs… and then his brother Logan, with his sexual performance plastered all over the internet… no thanks. He put one hundred percent of himself into work. This mountain, the home he would never leave, was all that mattered. He’d had to save Summerhill. He’d always save Summerhill. The mountain came first, he was bound to it by his own blood.
And finally he had everything the way he wanted. The company was his. They’d even had the official party to celebrate it before his parents went away.
It was exactly as he’d masterminded it. He’d been working for this moment for years.
But damn if it wasn’t enough already. He’d had to spend the last couple of days out in the snow rather than in his office, trying to let the wind clear his head. Trying to snatch back the peace that should be his.
Yet only now did he feel something other than anger and tiredness and irritation. Only now, squaring off to Savannah, did he feel even slightly fulfilled.
Jeez, was it as simple as sex? Was that all he needed?
Yes. His body screamed louder. Yes. Yes. Yes.
Why shouldn’t he take a few minutes at midnight to fence with a worthy opponent? Why shouldn’t he flirt for once? Even if he suspected she might be an enemy.
“Talk to me then,” he suggested amiably. “So I can want you for your mind as much as I want you for your body.”
He chuckled at the shocked expression in her eyes. What, she hadn’t expected that kind of honesty? Because it wasn’t a line and they both knew it.
“Besides,” he added. “You’re looking at me the exact same way. I don’t mind. Objectify away.”
She straightened. He liked that she didn’t try to deny it. Somehow he’d known she’d take up a challenge. She ran her gaze over him, acutely assessing. Pointedly. Her lips pursed, like she was disappointed. “It’s hard to objectify when I can barely see what you’ve got to show.”
Connor was momentarily stunned. Wow, she really knew how to throw a challenge.
“You want me to strip?” His blood quickened. He stood and pulled off his jacket. He had a thin merino sweater on beneath.
She cocked her head and gave him another once-over. “Not bad.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now you talk to me. I wouldn’t want to treat you like a piece of meat.” She smiled at him beatifically.
He chuckled. Sugarlips had principles? “What did you want to know?”
Her eyes glittered as she stalked back to the bar with the last couple of glasses in her hands. “Net worth, of course. What else?”
He laughed aloud. Nice. “You don’t want to know that I’ve got a sense of humor and can cook and know how to change a tire?”
“I take that as read.” She put the glasses down and shrugged. “But it makes no difference.”
It didn’t? “Is this why you’re here?” He probed with gentle viciousness. “To hook yourself a wealthy banker who likes to ski at exclusive resorts?”
“Of course.” She nodded sarcastically. “That’s why I’m so charming to them.”
“Treat them mean to keep them keen?”
He laughed at the filthy look she sent him. “I’ll tell you my net worth, if you tell me yours.” He leaned his elbows on the bar conspiratorially and waited.
“Not willing to share?” he prompted after only a moment.
“It’s irrelevant,” she drawled, like she didn’t give a damn. “Given you operate the ski lifts, I already know you’re not a wealthy banker.”
“Ah.” He nodded his head sadly. “You’re right. Maybe I’d better take off more clothes and try to up my rating that way.”
“You’re confident that’ll work?” she asked in a bored tone. But she was still watching him. So alert. So alive.