Abead of sweat trickles down my back and I blow a stray strand of hair from my face as I ring up the cash register. The Arizona heat is stifling, and the air con broke a week ago. My boss, Ray, is far too cheap to have it fixed by a professional and is intent on doing it himself as soon as the part arrives. From the time it’s taking, I’m pretty sure it’s coming from Outer Mongolia.
Asshole!
I pick up the bottle of Jack to put it back on the shelf and it almost slips from my hands when I hear that rich, velvety voice.
“You’re a hard woman to find, Jessie.”
My legs tremble as I stand rooted to the spot. I place the bottle on the counter as a shudder runs down the length of my spine. If I don’t turn around, maybe he won’t really be here. I glance sideways at the exits, wondering if I can make a run for it.
“Oh, please go for it, Angel,” he chuckles softly. “Because you know I’ll catch you. And when I do, I’ll enjoy nothing more than throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you to my car.”
I spin around and my heart almost stops at the sight of him. He looks even better than I remember — if that were possible. In a flannel shirt, open at the collar and rolled-up sleeves that show off his muscular forearms. “I think you’ll find that’s kidnapping,” I scowl at him.
“Well, you seemed to enjoy it the first time I kidnapped you,” he winks at me. “What the hell have you done to your hair?”
I flick the ends of my now shoulder-length, brunette hair and shrug. “I fancied a change.”
“I prefer it red. And long.” He flashes his eyebrows at me and I have a vision of the way he used to wrap it around his fist to make me more compliant and experience a familiar fluttering between my thighs.
I fold my arms across my chest and notice his eyes drop to my cleavage as he unapologetically licks his lips. “What are you doing here, Conor?” I say with a sigh.
“I’ve come to bring you home.”
I grind out a laugh. “I am home.”
“I’m talking about your real home, Angel.”
“You mean your home?”
“Where else?” He frowns.
“I think you and your brothers made it pretty clear that it wasn’t my home the last time you kidnapped me!”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “We thought you’d betrayed us, Jessie. Just like you assumed we’d betrayed you.”
“Exactly. There is no trust left between us. So, it seems the best thing to do is for all of us to go on doing our separate thing. Living our separate lives. So, please leave!”
He places those fine arms on the bar and looks around the place. There is no doubt it’s seen much better days, could do with a lick of paint, some new furniture — not to mention some air-con, but it’s the only bar for miles, so it’s busy every night. “You can’t seriously be happy here?” he asks with a tilt of his head.
“Why?” I scowl at him. “Not everyone needs five million dollar apartments and fancy sports cars to be happy.”
He frowns at me. “I know that. I meant that this place doesn’t exactly suit your talents, does it?”
“You have no idea what my talents are,” I snap.
A wicked grin spreads across his face. “Actually, I remember exactly what your talents are, Angel. The memories keep me warm at night.”
The heat sears between my thighs and I have to remind my treacherous body that we hate Conor Ryan and his brothers. “How the hell did you find me?” I say, trying to change the subject.
“With great difficulty,” he grinds out the words as though it pains him to say them.
“Well, I obviously didn’t do a good enough job of covering my tracks.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls. “I left less than two hours after you did, and it’s taken me two months to find you.”
I suck in a deep breath, momentarily winded by his revelation. I had assumed they were all happy to see the back of me. I’m not one of them — that was what Shane said. “You came straight after me?” I whisper.
“Of course I did. That was always the plan. I told you that I would burn the world down to find you, Jessie. Didn’t you believe me?”
“Ryan?” a voice hollers from the other side of the bar and both Conor and I glance over at my boss, Ray. “If you ain’t gonna serve the guy, then I got plenty of work to keep you busy!”
I roll my eyes and turn back to Conor.
“Ryan?” he narrows those chocolate brown eyes at me and my insides melt like butter that’s been left out in the Arizona heat.
“Hiding in plain sight,” I say with a shrug as the heat flushes over my chest. Damn! What the hell had I been thinking choosing that name as my new identity. “Anyway,” I go on before he can press me further, but there is a grin on his face that I just know is going to take some time to fade. “As you can see, I’m working here. So, either order a drink, or be on your way.”
“You got any good whiskey?”
“Plenty. But we got no Jameson’s,” I say, aware that’s his favorite. “We have nothing Irish in this whole bar. Not until you rolled in. And, I like it that way.”
“You’re here.” He licks his lips again and a memory of him doing magical things to me with that tongue flashes into the forefront of my brain before making a direct path straight to my pussy.
“I’m not Irish. Not even a little bit. I have Russian parents and I was born and raised right here in the USA.” I arch an eyebrow at him.
He leans across the bar and instinct makes me lean towards him. I regret it immediately when I realize how damn incredible he smells. “You’ve had so much Irish in you, I’m surprised you’re not talking Gaelic,” he says in a low rumble that vibrates through my whole body.
I draw in a sharp breath as the rush of heat sears between my thighs. Jesus! If I wasn’t hot enough before. My panties are going to melt if I stand here talking to him much longer. “Drink?” is all I can trust myself to say.
“If you’ve got no Jameson’s, I’ll take a glass of your finest Scotch,” he grins as he sits back.
I pour him a glass of the cheapest Scotch we have and place it on the bar in front of him. He takes a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and places it down on the bar. “Keep the change, Angel.”
I roll my eyes and take his money and pocket his change. Well, a girl has to eat.
“What time does your shift end?” he says as he takes a sip of the cheap whisky and winces.
“None of your business.”
“I’ll just hang around until you’re done, then. So, why don’t you fetch me a glass of that twelve year single malt you have up there?” he glances up at the top shelf.
“Oh, I can’t serve you that.” I shake my head.
“Why not?” he frowns.
“That’s reserved for people I actually like.” I sling the bar towel over my shoulder and flash him my biggest smile before I sashay down to the other end of the bar to serve another customer. I can almost feel his eyes burning into my ass and I’m so glad I wore my denim mini today.
