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of uncommitted, free-spirited sex. Of course any man
    would envy you!"
    "We can't always have what we want in life," Jase ground out brutally.
    Clearly she had hit a nerve. Amy decided to obey her instincts and back off
    that conversational topic at once. Besides, she realized she didn't want to
    hear him expound on the virtues of such an irresponsible life.
    That evening she found herself grateful for Jase's presence at the small
    table she occupied. From the outset it was obvious that several of the
    seamen off the Navy ship in the harbor had found their way into The
    Serpent. The place was packed with a rowdy, enthusiastic crowd of men,
    and it would have been awkward indeed to be a lone female sitting at a
    table.
    "Picturesque, isn't it?" Jase demanded wickedly above the din of
    raucous male laughter.
    "You spend a lot of your evenings like this?" Amy flicked a disparaging
    glance around at the lively crowd.
    "Evenings like this are good for business," Jase pointed out politely, but
    the turquoise eyes gleamed sardonically.
    "Aren't you worried that there may be a fight or something?"
    "Boys will be boys. We can deal with it if it happens."
    "It happens a lot?" she asked worriedly, feeling more than a little uneasy
    at the thought.
    "No, not a lot. The Serpent has a reputation: That sort of thing isn't
    tolerated."
    "Which means you have a reputation for not tolerating brawls?" she
    corrected.
    "The glassware is hard to replace," he drawled. "Takes months to get a
    new shipment in from the States. No, I don't encourage brawling."
    Amy shuddered. "I should hope not!" Then curiosity prompted her to
    pry further. "How long have you been running the place, Jase?"
    "I started out as a bartender working for the previous owner about ten
    years ago. I bought The Serpent from him when he decided he'd had
    enough of island living and wanted to go back to the States."
    "How old was he when he reached that monumental decision?"
    "In his sixties. George had a couple of kids he hadn't seen in years.
    Found out he had grandchildren and realized he wanted to meet them."
    "I wonder what kind of reception he got from the children he'd ignored
    for so many years," Amy muttered wryly.
    Jase gave her a level glance. "I don't know. Haven't heard from him
    since he left. Maybe his kids decided to be charitable."
    "Maybe. I'm not sure I would be."
    "You sound like you've got some firsthand experience," Jase observed
    dryly.
    "My father left my sister and me to be raised alone by my mother when
    I was six," she told him bluntly. "He couldn't handle the responsibility of a
    family. It's been my observation that a lot of men feel the same way."
    "You sound very sure of that," he clipped out.
    "Just take a look at the statistics. The number of women left to raise
    kids alone is pretty damn high. I wouldn't be surprised if you're catering
    to a few of the runaway fathers right here in this room!"
    "Now wait a minute, Amy. You're not going to get away with blaming
    me for every runaway father who ever decided to head for the South
    Pacific!"
    "I'm not blaming you, but you've got to admit that places like this
    certainly perpetuate the image of a pleasant, irresponsible, macho
    life-style that is very alluring to most men," she began earnestly.
    Her lecture was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. Startled,
    she swung around, aware that Jase was already on his feet.
    "What in the world is happening?" she breathed. Across the room four
    seamen were wading into each other, fists flying. With the frightening
    speed of an erupting volcano, a full-scale brawl was blossoming.
    "This is what we call atmosphere," Jase explained laconically. Then he
    was gone, forging a path through the ring of cheering, yelling spectators.
    Amy was appalled by the savagery of the fighting. The male of the
    species could be so very dangerous and seemed to have so little control
    over his own violent instincts, she thought. A few minutes earlier the bar
    had been filled