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the kegs ran out and I needed you.”
    He shuffled his feet and looked down bashfully. “Sorry, I was out back having a cigarette.”
    â€œI thought you were going to quit.”
    He reddened. “One more night. I figure I’ll start tomorrow.”
    It was his problem, she told herself, resisting the urge to lecture him. “Whatever. Just keep it to your breaks, Randy, especially on Saturday night. You know how busy we get.”
    â€œI know,” he said, grabbing bottles of bourbon to put on the shelf. “I’m sorry. I saw Shay head down to help you, though, and I figured he could handle things and Benny gave me the high sign to come over and help with those idiots who were fighting, and—”
    â€œWhoa, whoa, whoa.” She raised one hand. “Stop just a second. Who did you say went down to help?”
    â€œShay O’Connor.”
    â€œShay O’Connor,” she repeated. “I know that name.”
    â€œProbably so. He’s the guy that runs O’Connor’s.” He looked at her quizzically. “I thought you knew him.”
    The burst of anger shocked her. Mallory drew in a breath and worked to stay calm. So the sexy stranger she’d thought was a customer was actually a fellow bar owner from just a few blocks over. She eyedRandy. “You think he was checking out the competition?”
    â€œI guess,” Randy said thoughtfully. “I don’t know, he’s supposed to be a stand-up guy, but that doesn’t mean he has to be dumb. I mean, the place has been drawing a crowd. Makes sense that people are getting curious. You should take it as a compliment.”
    Take what as a compliment, that he’d conned her? That he’d gotten himself a discreet look around by playing grab ass downstairs? That he’d walked away and left her? “A compliment, yeah. I’ll try to remember that.” Mallory glanced away. “Look, we’re about done here,” she said abruptly. “Why don’t you head out?”
    â€œOkay.” He rounded the bar and walked toward the door, then stopped. “Hey listen, I’m sorry about sneaking a butt. It won’t happen again.”
    â€œRight. Now go home and get some sleep.” She had a much bigger problem than Randy’s smoking habit, Mallory reflected as she closed up the back of the bar and got her keys. What was Shay O’Connor doing checking out her bar on the quiet? It would have been one thing if he’d introduced himself. The fact that he hadn’t made her wonder just what he was up to.
    Someone was playing games, and it wasn’t her.
    Yet.

4
    M ALLORY SAT AT HER KITCHEN table, sipping at a mug of coffee with the newspaper spread open in front of her. She’d taken care of her first Sunday priority—the funny papers—over toast. Now she was on to part two—the New York Times crossword. Staring at the puzzle, she nibbled on the end of her pen before her eyes brightened and she filled in an answer.
    Across the room, the answering machine clicked and began to whirr.
    Mallory had long ago decided that just because a phone rang, there was no reason she had to answer it. It hadn’t taken her much more time to graduate to turning off the ringer. Now, she was blissfully unaware of a caller on the line until her machine went off, which was fine with her. She had one or two friends who considered her antisocial; she just considered herself efficient.
    The machine gave a long beep. “Mal, are you there?” Dev’s voice came out of the tiny speaker. “Pick up the phone. I know you’re—”
    She loped over to grab the receiver. “Hey.”
    â€œWhy do you make me listen to that stupid message every time?” he asked aggrievedly.
    â€œYou know why. It helps me avoid telemarketers.”
    â€œNot to mention other people you don’t want to talk to.”
    She permitted herself a smile. “That, too.