Read Last Call for Free Online Page A

personal
level, or stop at the skin-deep, kissable level?
    He cocked his head to the side and smiled.
“You’re thinking too much.”
    Her flip-flops slapped the hardwood floor as
she put her rubbery legs into action and propelled herself across
the bar toward him. “I tend to overthink things.”
    He narrowed his eyes and his body tensed.
“You don’t have a boyfriend, or significant other, do you?”
    She stopped a few feet in front of him and
snapped her mouth shut. Planting her fists on her waist, she said,
“What?” She sounded angrier than she intended, but the question
offended her.
    His expression lightened, and he held his
hand up in surrender. “Just making sure. I’ve learned to never
assume anything.”
    “You think I would flirt with you if I had a
boyfriend?”
    His eyes twinkled in the ambient lighting
from the neon signs, and a smile played at his lips. “You were
flirting with me?”
    His tone was light and teasing, but the
question embarrassed her. She blew out a puff of breath and turned
away. Muttering under her breath, she said, “I was trying.
Obviously, I need to work on my game.”
    His laughter came from directly behind her,
and she realized he’d followed her behind the counter.
    Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her
chest before turning to face him. Picking up on her body language,
he stopped midstride, then took a few steps back. He dipped his
head seductively and looked at her through a fringe of dark lashes.
“You didn’t need to do much to catch my attention. You needed to do
even less to keep it.”
    Seeking a diversion from the awkwardness
jittering inside her, she wrung out her cloth and wiped off the
counter. “What do you do?”
    Since Bartender Handbook rule number two had
gone out the window, she might as well chunk rule number one, too.
If she was going to do this, she wanted to know more than his name,
and that he was hot. She wanted sexual adventure, but it went
against her nature to make it completely anonymous.
    “I’m vice president of a multi-location
hospitality company.”
    She glanced up at him. Okay, whatever that
means.
    The corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s a fancy
title for a paper pusher.”
    She dropped the rag into the bucket and
rubbed her palms on her jeans to dry them off. “That time, I know I
didn’t speak out loud.”
    He tossed his head back with a laugh, and the
sound vibrated through her chest all the way down to her toes. God,
he had a great laugh. “You don’t have to say anything. Your face is
so expressive it speaks for you.”
    “So I’ve been told. It makes me a terrible
liar, and I really suck at poker.”
    He laughed again. “I bet you do.” Looking
around the bar, he asked, “What can I do to help you wrap things up
here?”
    “Nothing. Robby washed all the glasses before
he left. I’ll have him come down before we open tomorrow to sweep
the floors and make sure everything is straight.”
    He took a step closer, then paused, gauging
her reaction. When she didn’t back away, he took another step. And
another. Caught in the grips of his simmering stare, her skin
tingled, her panties dampened, and her breasts grew heavy.
    The warmth of his body and the spicy scent of
his aftershave pulled her to him like a magnet. When she was close
enough to see the individual whiskers of his five o’clock shadow,
she realized how far forward she’d swayed. She tensed, forcing the
forward momentum to halt, then stepped back until she bumped the
counter with her butt.
    His sapphire eyes turned to midnight as the
pupils dilated. His throat worked, and his nostrils flared. He
closed the distance between them and rested his palms against the
counter at her sides, boxing her in. Even though he wasn’t touching
her, his body heat mixed with hers, and the temperature in the room
rose twenty degrees. Her palms grew sweaty and perspiration popped
out on her neck and forehead.
    Could anything be more unattractive? She
reached under his arm