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‘You think your save-the-children heroic-lawyer act somehow amelioratesyour womanising ways?’ Because Brad was a womaniser. Just like his father.
    ‘Doesn’t it?’
    See, he didn’t even deny the charge. ‘You think? Yeah, that’s probably why you do child advocacy,’ she mused. ‘To score the chicks by showing your sensitive side.’
    He laughed, a loud burst of genuine humour that had her smiling back in automatic response.
    ‘That’s an interesting take. I’ve never really thought about it that way.’ He shrugged. ‘But even if it does give me some chick-points, at least I’ve done something with my life that’s useful. Is igniting alcohol for party boys useful?’
    She shifted uncomfortably. Serving drinks was a means to an end. But she managed a smooth reply. ‘Helping people relax is a skill.’
    His brows shot up. ‘I’m not sure you’re that good at helping guys relax.’
    She met his gaze and felt the intensity pull between them again.
    ‘Are you still at university or are you finished now?’ He broke the silence, looking down and toying with the pile of postcards on the edge of the bar.
    ‘I’m there part-time this year.’
    ‘Studying what?’
    ‘A double degree. Law and commerce.’
    ‘Law and commerce?’ he repeated. ‘So you’re going to become a greedy capitalist like my evil father and me?’ He laughed. She didn’t blame him, given her stabbing disapproval mere seconds ago. ‘You’re enjoying it?’
    ‘Of course,’ she said stiffly.
    ‘And the plan?’
    ‘A job in one of the top-five firms, of course.’
    ‘Speciality?’
    ‘Corporate.’
    ‘You mean like banking? Counting beans? Helping companies raid others and earning yourself wads of cash in the process?’
    ‘Nothing wrong with wanting to earn a decent wage in a job where you can sit down.’ She walked away to serve the customers she’d been ignoring too long. Her need to achieve wasn’t something trust-fund-son over there could understand. She needed money—not for a giant flat-screen TV and a house with a lap-pool and overseas jaunts. She needed a new house, yes, but not for herself. For her parents.
    She was conscious of his gaze still on her as he sat now nursing something non-alcoholic and taking in the scene. As she glanced over, she saw his eyes held a hint of bleak strain. Was it possible that behind the playboy façade, the guy was actually tired ?
    But he didn’t leave. Even when the bar got quieter and they’d turned the music down a notch. In another ten minutes the lights would brighten to encourage the stragglers out of the dark corners. Mya felt him watching her, felt her fingers go butter-slippery. She kept thinking about the kiss; heat came in waves—when memory swept over control. She couldn’t stay away when he signalled her over to his end of the bar.
    ‘I’ve been thinking about the drinks for Lauren’s party,’ he said easily. ‘It would be good to offer something different, right? Not just the usual.’
    So that was why he was still sitting there? He was party planning? Not surreptitiously watching her at all?
    ‘There you go, see?’ Mya said brightly, masking how deflated she suddenly felt. ‘You’ll organise a brilliant party. You don’t need me.’
    ‘I need your expertise,’ he countered blandly. ‘I don’t think I can ignite alcohol.’
    No, but he could ignite other things with a mere look. Mya pulled her head together and focused on the task at hand. ‘You want me to come up with a couple of Lauren-inspired cocktails?’
    ‘They’re the house speciality, right? So, yeah, make up some new ones, give them a cute name, we’ll put them up on the blackboard.’ He chuckled. ‘Something that’ll be good fun to watch the bartender make. Definitely use a bit of fire.’
    ‘And ice,’ she answered, then turned away to scoop crushed ice into a glass and wished she could put herself in with it. How could she be this hot? Maybe it was a bug?
    ‘What would you use