Phoenix Burning(6)
Alex didn’t know how long he’d been staring, trying to decide what it was about her that intrigued him, when she looked up suddenly. “Do I have beer on my face or something?”
He was suddenly arrested by the power of her deep brown eyes. Forcing his brain to focus on something else, he shrugged and dropped his gaze back to the counter. “Not that I can see.”
“Thanks for the towel.”
He could feel her eyes on him. It was strangely unsettling. “Can I get you a drink?”
“A little something for my mouth this time?”
Alex couldn’t stop his gaze from locking with hers when he registered a hundred possible double entendres in her words. Her look was guileless, and Alex was reminded of his earlier misapprehensions about her age.
“Anything you want,” Alex said smoothly, to cover up his momentary jolt. “The first one’s on the house, to apologize for the little mishap.”
“Well then.” She hopped up onto a barstool. Her body landed gracefully on a seat as she lifted her eyes to scan the shelves of liquor behind Alex. “What’s your favorite drink to make?”
Her tone had turned playful. Alex hadn’t particularly noticed her voice before, but it was both husky and feminine and very pleasant to the ear. “I guess that depends. Are you a traditional girl or an adventurous one?”
Even as the words came out of his mouth, Alex wanted to curse. Was he flirting with her? Not that Alex Dalesio flirting with a woman who sat at his bar was a particularly unusual occurrence, but this one seemed somehow different. She was either younger or more innocent, he couldn’t decide. She didn’t really belong in his bar, much less his bed.
A slow smile eased over her features and her eyes glinted chocolate brown in the dim overhead lights. “Tonight? Definitely adventurous.”
Something inside Alex responded to the gleam in her eye and the tone of her voice. Pleasurable awareness snaked down his spine, and his cock began to harden behind the strict confines of his jeans. He fiddled with the black carbide ring he wore on the middle finger of his right hand. There was a matching one on the left, each sporting a stylized Celtic design.
“So, what do you recommend?”
“Rum or vodka?”
She nibbled her lower lip, her teeth catching at the fullness and pulling it gently into her mouth. The sight mesmerized him despite his reservations about her innocence. “Let’s start with rum. It’s early, after all.”
Without even thinking, Alex reached for a clean shot glass. He flipped it over and poured equal amounts of Everclear, spiced rum, and apple schnapps. He was unusually aware of her brown eyes watching him as he worked. Seconds later he set the caramel-colored shooter before her and smiled.
She lifted an eyebrow. “What do you call it?”
“Baked apple.”
Her face broke into an impish grin, and Alex tamped down forcefully on the smile that threatened to break wide open across his face. What was it with her? She wasn’t his type, no matter how infectious her smiles and laughter might be.
She tossed back the shot in one gulp and flipped the glass over with nimble fingers before setting it on the bar. Her head tilted to one side as she savored the complex flavors. “That was good. What else you got?”
“Are you challenging me?”
“What if I am? Surely a big, bad bartender like you can come up with something that’ll really take me for a ride,” she teased.
Again with the double entendre, but her body language was playful and not suggestive. Alex gave up the battle and chuckled, his face easing into a wide smile. “Love, I’ll take you for a ride you’ll never forget.”
“Bring it on.”
Ingredients swirled in Alex’s head. Sticking with the rum theme, he layered spiced rum, Kahlua, and vanilla extract in a shooter and set it before her. “Captain Louie,” he said in response to her unasked question.
She laughed and tossed it back, her eyes closing in brief bliss. “Now that one’s a turn-on.”
He didn’t even wait, grabbing bottles without conscious thought. Spiced rum, Mountain Dew, and Southern Comfort for an exploding woody; spiced rum and cranberry juice for a cheerleader rum; spiced rum and sambuca for a Good and Plenty; then spiced rum and Buttershots for a greasy pirate all passed her full lips. Each drink was consumed with the same series of motions and ended with an upside-down shot glass on the bar. For a pixie, she had an unbelievable tolerance for liquor.
“Do you know how to make a dirty hairy snatch?” The cadence of her speech was just starting to shift. Considering her body weight, she should’ve been passed out on the floor.