Hearts at Play(3)

“Seltzer water, please,” he said.

Seltzer water? She took a few steps away and focused on pouring his drink at the back counter. Kat was by her side half a second later.

“He’s back? Already? That doesn’t say much about his bedroom skills,” Kat whispered.

Brianna glanced back at Hugh. Thankfully, between the noise of the customers and the distance between them, there was no way he’d heard her. “Shut up.”

Kat touched her arm. “You’re shaking.” She drew in a loud breath. “You’re shaking. Bree. Oh my God. Because of him?” she whispered.

“No. I’m tired, and I need to go home.”

Kat gave the guy at the bar a quick once-over and then waved as three large groups left the bar. “Twenty minutes. Can you handle it? Want me to take him?”

“Nah. I’ve got this.” Brianna wasn’t about to let some guy get the better of her. She’d learned her lesson six years earlier. She headed back toward the far end of the bar, where Hugh appeared to be people watching. “Here you go. Enjoy.” She handed him his drink and picked up a tip from the bar.

“Is it always like this in here?” he asked.

It took a second for Brianna to realize he was speaking to her. “Ah, I guess. On Thursdays, anyway.” Where’s Red?

He nodded. “Happy crowd.”

“Playoffs tend to bring out the smiles. And sometimes the fists, but luckily not tonight.” She watched him sip his water; then she began putting the bottles away.

“Is your kitchen still serving dinner?” he asked.

Dinner? She glanced at her watch and then back at him. “It’s almost ten.” She shrugged. “Sorry. They close the kitchen at ten. Maybe you can grab something at Bob’s, down the street.” Why am I still talking? She watched Kat crossing the bar to wipe down the booths.

“Nah. It’s okay. I’ll grab something at home.”

“I haven’t seen you in here before.” She glared at Kat’s back, wishing she’d come save her from her own inability to stop speaking. What is wrong with me? He’s just another customer. Then why does my stomach do a little flip every time he speaks?

He looked around the bar. “I’ve never been in here before tonight.” He finished his water as Kat came up to the bar.

“Done with Red…err…Tracie…already?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

He shook his head in question. “Done with? I just gave her a ride home.”

“No one just gives Red a ride home.” Brianna removed the towel from her belt and folded it, then set it on the counter behind her.

“Whoa. If you think I…” His eyes ran between the two women. “Sorry, ladies. That was a blind date, and she was definitely not my type.”

Kat leaned over the bar and smiled. “What is your type?”

Brianna shot her a look that said, The seductive voice? Really?

Kat ignored her.

“That’s a bold question.” He held out his hand. “I’m Hugh, by the way.”

“Kat.” Kat shook his hand.

He held his hand out toward Brianna. She narrowed her eyes. He was definitely a player. A really smooth one. There was no way she was touching his hand. If his voice made her stomach flutter, then who knew what kind of deluded thoughts his touch would give her.

She crossed her arms. “Brianna. Bree.”

He held her gaze and her pulse sped up.

“Yes. I remember.”

You remembered.

“Well, Kat and Bree, I guess I never thought about what my type is. I just know she’s not it.”

He looked away, and the way the light caught his dark eyes made Brianna wish for her camera again. One day I’ll be able to afford to get it fixed. His features were unlike those of anyone she’d seen before. His almond-shaped eyes were on the small side, and on any other man they might look too small, but they were in perfect proportion to his luscious mouth, and the way his thick neck gave way to his strikingly broad shoulders was more masculine than any model she’d ever seen. She realized only too late that she’d missed half of what he’d said.

“Smart and honest, I guess. Family oriented, that’s a must for me. I guess if I had a type, that would be it.” He ran his hand through his hair.

Family oriented? Smart and honest? Holy hell. No way. She scrutinized him again. There was no tension in his forehead. He leaned his forearms on the bar and appeared comfortable and relaxed. Between school, photography, and bartending, Brianna had studied people’s faces for enough years to know a bullshitter when she saw one. Hugh was either a very adept liar, or he was not at all the type of person she assumed he was.

Kat pushed herself from the counter where she’d been leaning and looked at him with a soft, dreamy gaze.

“Bree, it’s ten, hon.”

Mack’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Thanks, Mack.”

“I’ll walk you out back when you’re ready,” Mack said.

“Is that your husband?” Hugh asked.

Kat laughed too loud, and it made Brianna laugh, too.

“He’s my boss. I park out back, and he doesn’t like me to go out there in the dark by myself. He walks Kat out, too, when she parks there.” She was still smiling about his husband comment.

“After I pay, I’ll be leaving. Want me to walk you out?” Hugh asked.

Kat wiggled her eyebrows at her.

Yes! No! Bad idea. Truly bad idea. Brianna thought of Layla and came back to her senses. She looked down and straightened her T-shirt. “No, that’s okay. Mack will take me. It was nice meeting you, Hugh. Kat, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“When are you on?” Kat asked.

“I’m at Claude’s in the morning. Back here at four, after I get Layla.” For the first time in longer than she could remember, as Brianna said her daughter’s name, an uncomfortable feeling prickled her nerves. When she’d first had Layla and she was learning to shut out the male population, she’d had a few uncomfortable conversations with men about having a daughter. Now she felt that twinge of discomfort, and she hated herself for it. Why should she care if he knew she had a daughter? She was proud of Layla, and everything he’d just said was probably not true anyway. What man says he wants a smart, honest, and family-oriented woman? His good looks must have stolen her ability to think straight. That has to be it.

“Have a nice night, Bree,” Hugh said with a nod.

As Brianna and Mack headed out the door, she wondered what her name would sound like coming off his lips after a long, sensuous kiss.





Chapter Three


“ART, WHAT THE hell?” Hugh spoke into the speakerphone as he drove his liquid-silver Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Roadster through the gates of his ten-acre estate. He couldn’t stop thinking about Bree, but the thought that he’d been sitting with Tracie when he could have been trying to get to know Bree better pissed him off—and Art was about to pay for that.

“Was she that bad?” Art asked.

“Was she…? Art, you’re my buddy, man. What are you trying to do to me?” He pressed a button on his visor and the garage door lifted. Automatic lights illuminated the interior of his four-car garage.

“I’m sorry. It was a favor. She’s a friend of my sister’s best friend.”

“Dude, really? You’re supposed to protect my image. She was like…I don’t even know what. I’m off the market. Officially, as of right this second.” Hugh ended the call and headed inside the brick Tudor home he’d added to his real estate collection a few years earlier, when he’d found two naked women in his hotel bedroom and had to call security to have them removed. Hugh loved naked women as much as the next guy, but he liked his privacy. Even though he wasn’t in any state for very long, he returned year after year, and purchasing homes alleviated the need for hotels altogether. And after watching his four older brothers and his older sister fall in love over the past few months, he’d begun to feel a pull toward settling down, and he’d begun to want more. With a degree from Cornell in finance, he knew he could never settle down with a woman who wasn’t his intellectual equal, which meant most leggy models and fan girls were out of the equation. For months he’d been actively separating himself from his previous lifestyle.

He grabbed a copy of The Art of Negotiating and kicked back on a leather couch in the large great room. He clicked a remote, and the enormous propane fireplace bloomed in flames of orange and red; then he dimmed the overhead lights, and with another flick of the remote, the reading lamp that arced artfully over his left shoulder brightened. The house had many bells and whistles, which Hugh enjoyed, but he would have preferred something a little smaller. Since he’d purchased during the recession, it had been too good of a deal to pass up, and with the market recovery, he’d already doubled his original purchase price in equity.

He’d just slipped off his loafers and kicked his feet up on the glass coffee table when his cell phone rang.

Savannah. “How’s my newly engaged sister?”

“Happy. How are you?” Savannah had always been a positive light in Hugh’s life, but since getting engaged to Jack Remington, she’d been ridiculously cheery.