“When the world hands you lemons, put on heavy boots to stomp them into lemonade. That’s my motto,” she replied. “How’s prep coming?”
“We’re almost done with twenty minutes to spare,” Nat said. “Lover boy here is good with his hands.”
Chad said nothing, just flicked Eve a look as he decimated the last of the limes and swept them into the plastic storage tubs.
“We could use a couple more cases of the pinot, though,” Nat said.
“I’ve got it,” Eve said, shifting off the bar stool and down the hall, her boots thudding against the cement floor.
Chad was right on her heels, wearing the ubiquitous running shoes, jeans, and Eye Candy T-shirt. His wiry reddish hair looked a little more rumpled today, the faint lines around his eyes telling her he hadn’t slept much more than she had and maybe he’d had a hard morning too. He followed her into the storeroom and closed the door behind him.
“Something up, boss?”
“Why?” she asked, stacking empty boxes by the door to clear a path to the wine. “Break those down, would you?”
“You seem a little stressed,” he said as he ripped apart the bottom of a box and dropped the flattened cardboard on the floor.
So much for a bold, sexy outfit. She hefted a case of wine, and said, “It’s just new business stress.” She was getting far too good at this half-truths/half-lies thing.
He took the box from her and set it on the crates stacked by the door. “Hey. Talk to me.”
“It’s no big deal. It’s just … things aren’t going so well for the East Side right now. That upsets me.” It was the strain of single-handedly running a new business, and dealing with Lyle and her family’s well-meaning concern for her reputation and her future. Her liquor costs were going up as gas prices rose, and if the business park initiative failed, her odds of survival plummeted. Maybe she was wrong about her methodology for helping the East Side. Maybe she needed to apply for that job in marketing, and start volunteering at the SCC. Lots of kids needed help with math. She could run basic financial-management classes for teens and adults, help keep them out of the vicious cycle of check cashing and rent-to-own. “Could you see me working at an insurance company?”
“What?” he asked, clearly startled.
“Never mind. I’m fine. Once we open the doors and this place is rocking, I’ll be better than fine.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Maybe I can help,” he said.
Her heart lifted at the offer, because deep down inside he felt rock-solid, trustworthy. But if he wouldn’t open up to her, she couldn’t afford to tell him any more secrets. “Thanks, Chad, but I think I’m going to keep this one close.”
He folded his arms, looked at her. “Why?”
Edgy nerves made her stomach and pulse jump. She copied his stance, folding her arms and opting for flat honesty. “Because despite enough chemistry to turn lead into gold, you’ve given me no indication you want anything more than friendship. Tonight, I need more than a friend.”
A muscle in his jaw jumped, and, as if he’d opened the grate on a roaring furnace, the temperature in the room shot up ten degrees. The look he cut her, suddenly, shockingly full of edgy masculine demand, seared her skin and stopped her breath. “Fine, boss. If sex is what it takes to get you to talk to me, then let’s do it.” He stepped toward her, hands on the buckle of his belt.
She held up a hand. “Now?”
“Right now,” he said as he jerked back the leather to release the prong.
“Are you insane?” She lowered her pitch and volume to avoid alerting Natalie. “Do you have any idea how much work goes into this hairstyle?”
He stopped close enough for her to feel heat radiating from his body against her upheld palm, then took another step, pressing her hand between his chest and her leather-clad breast, his hand to her bared abdomen. “I won’t mess up your hair, Eve. I promise.” His voice was low and rough, vibrating with need. The tension humming between them turned the air thick and syrupy.
“Okay, I was kidding about sex in the storeroom,” she stage-whispered. “Natalie’s right outside the door! I want complete privacy and a bed.”
He bent his head, carefully not touching her hair, and murmured in her ear, “It’s even hotter when you have to be quiet.”
Heat flicked through her, weakened her knees. “Later,” she said with a push completely contradicted by her soft, intimate voice, but he backed up a step and lifted his hand from his belt. “Later you can mess up my hair all you want.”
She took a deep breath, put her hand to her hair, then checked to be sure the bustier was fastened all the way up. The mixture of male interest and genuine curiosity in his eyes as he watched sent another flare of heat deep into her belly.