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Hannah snorted. Ned choked. But Ali, bless her sweet little pulp-reading heart, broke into a big, almost relieved smile. “That’s a fair interpretation! Yes, yes, I think that works wel .” She waved her hand, setting about five dozen bracelets jangling. “There’s nothing more to be done about it but to go out with him, Laura.”
    Laura wanted to murder them all. These were supposed to be her friends? And they were forcing her hand in front of a crowd. If she agreed to go out with the bum, it would set a horrible precedent. News would travel that Laura was not averse to dating her clientele, which, of course, she was.
    She was about to tel them all to take a hike when she saw the almost pleading expression on Ali’s face. If Laura refused, Ali’s prediction wouldn’t come true. And she’d stil be batting zero for a thousand or so.
    She tried to tel herself that Ali’s stats weren’t her problem.
    She tried to tel herself that the last thing she wanted to do was be manipulated into going on a date with Brandon Prince.
    She was doing a real bad job on both scores.
    “Oh, all right!” she snapped, making certain everyone there knew she was doing this against her better judgment, under protest, with deep, deep regret. She pointed her finger directly at the prince’s very sexy nose. “But I’m not going anywhere with you until we set some ground rules.”
    He smiled, but then looked around at their audience.
    “Could we, uh, set these ground rules in private?”
    “What do I look like?” she retorted, throwing out her arms in exasperation. “One of the stinking idle rich? I’m working here, mister.”
    Ali, who was quickly becoming a pain in the butt, piped in, “How about if Brandon sticks around and helps you close, and you can talk ground rules then?” Laura opened her mouth to protest, but Ali added, “Then Jimmy Raye and I can get an earlier start on our date.”
    Blackmail. Sweet, optimistic, naive, loving Ali was turning into a first-rate blackmailer.
    By the pleased expression on the frog-who-would-be-prince’s face, Laura guessed that he ful y approved of blackmail. Which Laura felt should certainly be repaid in kind. 

     
    She smiled sweetly. “Fine with me. I’l be happy to let him clean the men’s room.”
    That lowered the voltage on his grin a little, but not nearly enough to be satisfying. “It’s a deal,” the frog prince said.

    * * *

    LAURA COULDN’T believe it. Not only had the Yale grad actual y cleaned the men’s room, and done a good job at that, he’d also mopped down the floor of the bar and bil iards room.
    By the time Laura had cashed out the register and locked the money in her smal floor vault—she did al her banking during daylight hours—the place sparkled, and it was a good half hour earlier than she normal y finished the nightly shutdown.
    She straightened to catch him taking a seat at the bar, and her breath came to a dead halt. She had never, ever seen eyes that green, would have sworn God didn’t make any like that if she wasn’t staring into them for herself.
    She tried to swal ow and get her lungs working again, but the only part of her body kicking in was her heart, which of its own accord had begun running a marathon.
    That wouldn’t do. She needed to get her pulse under control so that she didn’t stupidly al ow him leeway in the ground rules department.
    “You know how to tend bar?” she asked, allowing herself a skeptical tone.
    “Some. Not those fancy drinks you can make, but I know how to mix the basics.”
    “Think you can handle a vodka tonic?”
    “I can certainly try.”
    “Wel then, make yourself useful while I go log tonight’s receipts,” she said, holding up the register readout.
    He jumped off the stool with a grin. “I’ve always wanted to try to be useful.”
    Her gaze narrowed on him. “A new endeavor for you, is it?”
    she said tartly, although for the last hour he’d proven himself more than useful. She stil