He was tall. He was broad. He had the perfect amount of stubble on his jawline, and those eyes were to-die for – deep brown and piercing. Then there was his hair – thick, brown, and ideal for sliding fingers through. She didn’t want to take her eyes off him, but she knew better than to stare. She quickly straightened her spine, picked her gawking jaw up from the floor, and gave him a cool nod. “We have an India Pale Ale tonight. Will that do?”
“That’ll do just fine,” he said, his muscular forearms resting on the sleek bar. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and Julia couldn’t help but notice how strong his arms were. She bet he worked out. A real man kind of workout. Something hard and heavy that made him sweat and grunt to mold that kind of physique. She poured the beer into the glass, and set it down in front of him. He reached for his wallet, peeled off some bills, and handed them to her.
“I take it you’re Julia?”
Uh oh. How did he know her name. Was he an undercover cop? Had she accidentally served someone under twenty-one? She was diligent and methodical in her ID checking and had never let an underage in. Or wait. Her spine stiffened. Was he onto her? Did he know what she did every Tuesday night at a dimly-lit apartment above a greasy restaurant in ChinaTown that smelled of fried pork? That would be over soon though. It had to be. She’d done her time, and was ready to cash in. Soon, she kept telling herself.
“Yeah,” she answered carefully, all her senses on alert. She wasn’t really doing anything wrong those nights, was she? No, she was just taking care of business as she knew how.
“I hear you’re the best bartender in San Francisco.”
The tightness in her shoulders relaxed. At least he wasn’t a boy in blue come to bust her. But forget his smoldering looks. He was like the rest of them, going for cheap lines, hitting on the woman behind the bar. “Yeah, where’d you hear that? Facebook?”
He smiled briefly, shook his head. Damn, he had a fabulous smile. Straight, white teeth and a knowing grin. But she knew better than to fall for a hot stranger simply because he was handsome. She’d done that before, and it had kicked her in the ass. That’s why she was a No-Strings-Attached kind of woman these days. Not that she’d had any attachments of any sort lately – she had too much trouble to untangle herself from before she could even think about getting tangled up in love, let alone the sheets.
“No. Your sister told me. McKenna, I believe.”
Oh.
Oh yes.
It all made sense now.
And far be it from Julia to ever doubt her big sister. Because McKenna’s assessment was one hundred and fifty percent correct. He was smoking hot. Un-be-lievable. And he was no longer a stranger. He was sister-approved, he wasn’t a cop, and he wasn’t a heavy, so she shucked off her worries. “Clay Nichols,” he said, offering a hand to shake. Nice firm grip. Before she knew it, she was thinking of other uses for those strong hands.
“Julia Bell.”
“So how’s your day working out for you, Julia Bell?”
She laughed once. Not because it was funny, but because it was such a simple and direct question. It wasn’t a cheesy line. “It’s not too shabby,” she said. “And yours, Clay Nichols?”
He shook his head, let out a long stream of air. “Long, annoying, but ultimately victorious.”
“What, are you a fighter?”
“Nah. Just a lawyer,” he said then took a drink of the beer. He nodded to the glass in admiration. “Insert lawyer joke here.”
“A lawyer walks into a bar,” she said, then stopped to shoot him a playful stare. “Actually, that’s not a joke. That’s me giving a play by play.”
He laughed. “You are an excellent commentator so far.”
“Why thank you. I can keep it up all night,” she said.
“All night? Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, and his lips curved up in a wickedly sexy grin.
“It just might be. So, you were victorious. That mean you won your case?”
“Just won the right terms in the negotiations. My client is happy. That’s what matters.”
“What kind of law?” she asked, praying he wasn’t going to say something seedy or sleazy – like personal injury law.
“Entertainment law,” he said in that deep, rumbly voice that she was already digging.
“I’m a big fan of entertainment. Movies and me, we’re like that,” she said, twisting her middle and index finger together.
“Likewise. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t enjoy the work. But I know what it is, and I know what’s not. I’m not saving the world. I’m not putting the bad guys behind bars. I’m just trying to help actors, directors, and TV show hosts get the best deals they can get. Put on a show, make some people happy. That’s all I do.”