“He takes some getting used to,” Alex offered. “But he’s a great friend, and a good boss.”
“Sure,” she managed hoarsely.
“Plus, he’s intimidating as hell at the door.”
“So, he’s the…owner?”
“Yep.”
Jessa blinked several times in quick succession, trying to come up with another question to keep Alex talking about Connor. Common thugs didn’t typically masquerade as small business owners. It made for an intriguing combination.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll be in good hands with us, Jessa.”
Her fuzzy mind concocted all sorts of meanings for that particular promise.
Alex sat a tall mug of Guinness down on the bar. “Now, let’s see if you can drink it solo.”
“You are trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?”
“Nah, I’ve just got to see what my waitress is made of.”
“Right.”
The mug was cool against her warm hands. She inhaled the earthy essence of the Guinness and pondered the merits of forgetting all her troubles for at least one evening. It wasn’t as if Will were spending his evening lamenting the change in their marital status. Why should she?
* * *
The smooth surface of the mahogany bar was cool beneath Jessa’s cheek. Her head felt strangely light, as if gravity had been momentarily shut off. A few experimental blinks proved Jessa still had eyes. But the soft interior lighting seemed harsh after the pitch black of her eyelids. The music had wound down to a lazy country western tune about guys who leave their wives. It was disgustingly apropos. Perhaps that was when you knew you had hit rock bottom, when your life could be summed up in one cheesy western ballad.
The whisk of a terry cloth bar towel alerted Jessa to Alex’s presence a few feet away. The drone of the jukebox drowned out any other bar noise. Peanuts mingled with the scent of beer and cigarette smoke. All were underscored by something strangely familiar.
Both invigorating and seductive, it was vaguely enticing to her addled senses. Wood smoke, sandalwood, cinnamon spice, whiskey and something so intensely male that it sent a quick shot of adrenaline into her sluggish bloodstream.
“Welcome back.”
Violently aware that the voice did not belong to Alex, Jessa rose quickly. Her head popped up from the bar like a jack in the box. She was immediately sorry, so sorry. Her vision swam while her stomach simultaneously lurched up and down.
“Easy there. Move around too quickly and I’ll be mopping the floor again.”
Swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth, Jessa forced her bleary eyes to focus on Connor. He’d draped a bar towel casually over one shoulder. One big hand used a damp corner of the towel to wipe out the inside of a shot glass.
Even in her semi-lethargic state Jessa noted how his hands dwarfed the tiny glass. He handled it carefully, expertly, light dancing off the beveled edges and casting strange patterns on the muted blue of his shirt.
“Alex?” Her voice was rough.
Connor wordlessly flipped a clean beer mug upright and filled it with cool water. He deftly placed it before Jessa and nodded that she should drink.
The heat from Connor’s hands lingered on the smooth surface of the glass. It seeped into Jessa’s hands and sent shimmering waves dancing through her body. Cool water slid over her tongue. Though it washed away the thick furriness in her mouth, it did nothing to quell the strange urges Connor’s nearness instigated.
“Where’s Alex?” Jessa asked softly when she could trust her voice not to betray her unruly thoughts.
Obviously a man of few words, Connor jerked his chin toward the back of the dim room. His black eyes never left Jessa’s body. It was as if he were anticipating her reaction to what she was about to see. As if he knew he was enticing her to the edge.
Unable to resist, she followed his gesture, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the low lighting. What she saw made her womb clench and her nerves catch fire. Blood rushed to her vagina, plumping her pussy lips and calling forth a rush of sweet cream that left her aching for something she couldn’t name.
Every prim and proper bone inside Jessa’s body was demanding she turn on her heel and leave. But it wasn’t possible.
Alex’s shirt lay pooled on the floor beneath what appeared to be a lacy satin camisole top and black miniskirt. Just beyond that, Alex and the lady in question were locked together in the ageless ritual of hot, sweaty sex.
It occurred to Jessa that no lady would’ve been caught dead in such a compromising position. If ladies engaged in sex, they did so in a private bedroom setting with their husbands. And they never let themselves get so…carried away.