Randall was thankful her back was to him since he wasn't sure how she was going to respond to his being there. He approached the bar slowly, watching her, wondering how he could have ever mistaken her for a topless dancer. Not that she didn't have the body for it. She most definitely did. But he could tell by her body language that she wasn't the type of woman who enjoyed being the center of attention.
She was vigorously scrubbing a stainless steel sink, oblivious of his approach. Her shoulders were slender with a rigid set. The black turtleneck she wore hugged a body that was willowy and nicely shaped. Because of the height of the bar, he couldn't see the rest of her and, frankly, he was glad for it. It wouldn't do him any good to waste his time thinking about how she filled out her jeans or wondering just how long those legs of hers were.
She was at least ten years his junior. Probably shallow-minded and immature to boot. Definitely not his type. Not that he was interested, he quickly reminded himself. A quick apology, a cup of coffee, and he was out of there.
Randall slid onto a stool and set the manila folder on the bar in front of him. He watched her work, mesmerized, amazed that a woman could look so damn sexy cleaning a sink. Her hair was mink brown and fell to her shoulders in unruly waves. From where he sat, he recognized the citrus and musk scent of her perfume from that day in his office. The warm, exotic scent he'd dreamed about on more than one occasion in the last three weeks.
As if she possessed some kind of sixth sense and had been alerted to the route his mind had taken, she straightened, then slowly turned. Clutching a pink sponge in one hand and a container of industrial-strength scouring powder in the other, she stared at him through brown, doe-like eyes. For an instant, the corners of her mouth turned up ill a smile that would have been dazzling—had she not ultimately recognized him.
He knew it the instant she did. Her smile faded. Her eyes cooled. She set down the scouring powder with a resonant thud. "I'm getting ready to close."
"The sign says you don't close for another ten minutes," he said.
Wordlessly, she turned away and left her place behind the bar. At the front door, she turned the sign to the closed position. As if on cue, the couple finished their cappuccino and started for the door. Calling them by their first names, Addison bid them good night. The man at the bar folded his newspaper and followed. Randall noticed he left a five-dollar tip, and he wondered if Addison Fox affected all men the way she did him.
She made a show of fumbling with the tie of her apron as she slipped back behind the bar. "There's a beer joint two doors down. Please tell me that in your drunken stupor you've wandered into the wrong place."
He had to hand it to her, she definitely knew where to hit a guy. But because he had it coming, he let the comment pass. "I guess you're not going to make this easy on me."
A delicately arched eyebrow went up. "How perceptive of you."
He had the sinking feeling that she was just getting warmed up. Even if the conversation they were about to have wasn't going to be pleasant, it would definitely be interesting.
"In case you're wondering, I take my coffee black," he said easily.
''To be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Talbot, the way you take your coffee is the furthest thing from my mind, unless, of course, you take it in your lap. What I'm really wondering is what the hell you're doing in my shop with that stupid grin on your face when I'm about to close."
Randall stared at her, not sure if he was insulted, amused, or embarrassed. He did find himself a bit relieved that there was no one else around to witness the verbal trouncing he was taking from this woman. "Better make it decaf," he said.
Frowning, she snagged a cup from beneath the bar and moved to-the coffee brewer. He watched as she poured, noticing the jerky movements, the rigid set of her shoulders, and the stubborn set of her chin. Unfortunately, he also noticed that she was one of those women who only looked sexier when they were angry. .
"Here you go." She set the cup in front of him and looked at her watch. "Decaf. Black. You have five minutes."
Unable to keep himself from it; Randall smiled. "You might want to work on that customer service routine, Ace."
She crossed her arms in front of her, inadvertently plumping her breasts. Randall kept his eyes on hers. The last thing he needed to know about Addison Fox was that her breasts were full and upswept. That kind of knowledge was dangerous business for a man who couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a date.
"I'm sure I couldn't begin to compete with your unparalleled customer service," she said. "In fact, I don't believe I've ever manhandled any of my customers for stealing sugar packets. Nor have I searched purses for tips when they forgot to leave one. I've certainly never threatened to frisk them."
"Yeah, well, the Better Business Bureau is hassling my brother for something I did. But I don't suppose you'd know anything about that, would you?"
"You're lucky I didn't have you arrested."
"I'm sure that would have been interesting." His gaze skimmed her mouth. "But I don't think either of us would have enjoyed it."
''Why are you here?" she asked.