Phoenix Burning(2)

Her fingers latched onto the edge of the countertop, the wood biting deeply into her palm. Warmth began creeping over her, culminating at a point between her legs. Awareness zipped up her spine, and she was glad her loose outer shirt hid the hardening of her nipples.

She grasped for a tone that would convey polite curiosity without revealing the depth of her interest. “People hook up and have sex right there in the bar?”

MacIntyre’s ice-blue gaze narrowed. Emory cleared her throat, aware that her voice had taken on a breathless quality that could be interpreted a multitude of ways. Not that he could guess how big of a fascination public sex was for Emory Banks. She had her own reasons for desiring a trip to a place like Phoenix Rising, things in her past that she had no wish to share with Donovan MacIntyre.

“Those are rumors.”

“So it’s probably an outrageous lie anyway.” She turned away on the pretext of choosing a beautiful white magnolia blossom for the arrangement on the counter. “How silly.”

“Regardless of whether or not a disgusting rumor is true or false, that’s not the sort of image our downtown needs, or the type of clientele we want to encourage. It starts with this, and the next thing you know we have blacks, Asians, and homos moving in.”

“Hence the petition?” The asshole had pretty well covered his discrimination bases. Didn’t he know her brother was gay?

He put a yellow envelope on the counter and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers. She could see a smattering of signatures on the page, but not nearly enough to close down a business. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. This wasn’t right.

“I just need you to sign here at the bottom.” He searched his pockets for a pen.

“Don’t bother.” Emory swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “I’m not going to sign something without checking the facts first.”

“Emory?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. MacIntyre…”

“Call me Donovan, Em—”

She held up her hand to stop him from repeating his entreaty. “I know how tough it is to operate a business down here. I’m not going to pass judgment on Phoenix Rising without better reasons than some unsubstantiated rumor.”

He stiffened, shoving the petition back into its envelope with unnecessary force. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll be back later. I’m sure with some time to think it over you’ll change your mind.”

She watched him leave, but her mind was already far away. He had thought her to be a done deal, no more than a formality. And it would’ve been so easy to sign on the line, to keep her head down like a good little business owner and make Captain Downtown happy.

Donovan MacIntyre was a prick of the first degree. He owned a chain of sports bars scattered across three counties. His bars had a list of prerequisites for waitresses that read like a want ad for Playboy models. Servers wore damp white T-shirts with neon-colored bras and jean shorts cut off at an angle so their ass cheeks hung out. The predominantly male clientele made crass comments about female anatomy and consumed gallons of beer and pounds of hot wings while watching hours upon hours of sporting events. The worst part was that every one of those beer-guzzling men would profess to be an upstanding citizen that toed the line of righteousness. And they’d even believe it.

Thanks to the popularity of his bars, MacIntyre had the cash flow that usually got him what he wanted. His downtown location was the flagship of his entire operation. Going against him in this petition was the quickest way to make trouble for Blooming Buds. But something inside her balked at the idea of following the crowd on this issue.

“Something got your knickers in a twist, little sister?”

Emory made a face at her barely older brother as he entered the shop via her storage area. Chris always parked in the lot out back. If asked, he’d say it was to save the limited street parking for customers, but that wasn’t really why.

“Hiding from the wife?” she taunted.

Chris had clear blue eyes; straight, short, reddish-blond hair; and a fair complexion. Emory’s olive-toned skin, brown eyes, and curly black hair didn’t even look like they’d come from the same gene pool. It was hard enough for people to believe they were brother and sister. Trying to convince someone that they were fraternal twins was next to impossible.

Chris rolled his eyes and stabbed restless fingers through his hair. “Don’t you start, Emmy, he’s been on me all week about flying to Iowa to get married. I’m going to kill him if he doesn’t shut up.”

She shrugged. “You know how I feel about it.”

“Yes, your views on same-sex marriage are so encouraging.”