I Just Want You(10)

When she slides the cup my way, I reach out and place my hand next to hers, feeling her skin. "Thanks." I bring the cup to my lips for a drink. Her eyes follow my every move. Setting the cup on the counter, I pull a twenty out of my wallet and hold it out for her. She doesn't notice at first, her gaze locked on mine. I motion toward my hand and she blushes.

Damn.

"Keep the change, Berklee." My voice is husky even to my own ears.

"I can't. I don't even know your name."

"You can." I lean in and rest my forearms on the counter. "If you know my name there's no more mystery. You'll forget my order with all the others," I say with a smirk. "See you around." I stand, grab my coffee and turn to leave. Once I make it back to my car, I make a conscious effort to not look back at Coffee House. Her pull is too strong. She has no idea what she does to me. It's unlike me to feel this kind of attraction with just casual conversation. It has to be the fact that I've put myself on a hiatus from dating, from women in general. I'm not exactly much of a dater. I need to stay focused and a girl like Berklee, she can make a man lose more than just his focus with a simple look.

Pulling into the lot of the club, I see Zane sitting on the bench outside the front door, talking to the contractor. Beckett Construction came highly recommended, and Ridge has proven that he and his team know their stuff. I almost hired Zane's company, but I knew I wanted him to work for me, and that would have been all kinds of uncomfortable. Besides, Beckett Construction has one hell of a reputation. I wanted the best.

"Write it down." Zane grins. "I never beat you. You feeling all right, my man?" he chides.

I hold up my cup. "Had to stop for coffee."

He laughs. "I see how you are. Didn't bother to bring me one."

Honestly, I should have, but Berklee kept me from thinking of anything but her. "Sorry, man." I almost volunteer to go get him one. It's just around the corner and I could see her again; that would certainly throw her for a loop. No. Focus, Crew. "Next time," I say instead.

"I've already had three cups, I was just giving you shit." 

Me too. "So, I finished the liquor license packet, the second one. I really need to get someone with a business background in here. I know enough to get by and most of it is common sense, but I need someone I can depend on for this kind of stuff."

"Okay. So what are you thinking?"

"A business manager or administrator, Google suggested both." I laugh.

Zane joins in. "All right, I'll call a couple of agencies and maybe check in with the local college. You okay with a new grad?"

"Yeah, as long as they know their shit. Actually, I might prefer it. I can train them the way I want. I don't want some know-it-all coming in here telling me how to run things. I just need someone with the business savvy to monitor the books, payroll, staffing, and this fucking paperwork," I say.

"Got it. Our interviews start in an hour. I'll make some phone calls."

Taking a seat at the makeshift desk, I take out my laptop and pull up my e-mail. I've got an hour to put a dent in some of them.

"Crew." I look up to see Zane standing there with a brunette in a short dress and mile-high heels behind him. "Interviews are here."

I know from just looking at her that she's not what I want. Not for the club. Sure, she's easy on the eyes, but provocative is not the way to dress for a job interview, regardless of the position. Unless maybe you're trying to be a stripper. Instead of voicing my opinion, I follow Zane and the brunette to a small table we set up for the interview process.

Zane motions for her to sit and she makes a production out of it. Tossing her hair over her shoulder and crossing her legs, causing her already too-short dress to ride up further on her thigh. As a man, I appreciate the effort, and she's a knockout, but as an employer I'm not impressed. Sure, I want her to be friendly and even a little flirty with the patrons, but this is a respectable business, or it's my hope that it will be. This girl has drama written all over her, and I don't want or need that in my club.

"So. . . ." I look down at the pink résumé she handed over that coincidently smells like flowers. "Mandy, what are you looking for in a job?"

Mandy grabs a lock of her hair and begins to twirl it around her finger, then giggles. "I'm looking for a job where I can . . . use my assets," she says, her voice low.

"And what might those assets be?" I ask, even though the answer is written all over the way she presents herself.

Mandy looks down at her cleavage that is spilling out of her dress, then back up at me as she licks her lips.