Bare It All (9 page)

Without saying a word, her hand covered his, fingers twining
together.

At times, Alice could be so deceptively peaceful. He knew her
well enough now to know it was a ruse; at all times, she remained aware, alert.
Of everything.

She surprised him every other second. With her hurt. Her
courage.

Her sexual openness.

He could take her now. He knew it whether she did or not. She
might have issues clouding her desire, but he could get her past that easily
enough. A few kisses, a touch—and she’d be ready.

But this time, with Alice...damn it, he wanted more.

And so he would wait. He needed to know everything that she
tried so hard to keep hidden. If he wasn’t a detective, maybe, just maybe, he
could let it go. Leave it in the past.

But he couldn’t. It was in his nature to uncover mysteries.
Especially when he feared there could be danger involved.

Danger to Alice.

Maybe he should tell her that. Maybe if she knew sex hinged on
complete honesty, it’d be incentive enough for her to come clean. To bare her
soul.

To him.

He’d work on that—

“Reese?”

Her soft voice, coming to him in the dark...even that turned
him on. “Hmm?”

Untangling her hand from his, she squirmed around to face him,
her breath on his chest, her knee so close to his dick that he twitched.

“You seem antsy. Are you okay?”

Suffering a raging hard-on seemed
antsy
to her? He counted to three to take the sting out of his
voice. “Overwrought with lust, but otherwise well enough.” As she turned her
face up to him, he said, almost in desperation, “No, shhh. It’s fine. I’m
enjoying this, holding you.” Torture, yes, but the sweetest kind.

“Me, too.” She wiggled closer—and there it was, her leg against
his boner.

Ah, God. He locked his teeth.

“I’ve never slept with a man before.”

His eyes widened in the darkness.

“I’ve had sex,” she said softly, her fingers now toying with
his chest hair. “I didn’t mean that.”

Reese tried to relax. Impossible while she employed her unique
brand of foreplay.

“Only a few times, and it wasn’t all that memorable. That was
before...”

“I know.” If she started talking now, they’d never get any
sleep. He wanted her well rested. Tomorrow was D-day, the day he’d get answers.
But if she knew that, she’d never doze off.

Alice might think she hid it from him, but he saw her angst
anytime she thought he might press for more information. She wanted to feed him
details in dribs, maybe hoping that’d lessen the impact...of what?

How did she expect him to react?

He knew she was familiar with weapons, that she held her own in
moments of crisis. He knew she jumped at every whisper of wind.

Such an enigma.

Yet the way she composed herself, her face a blank facade, told
him more than an outpouring of emotion ever could.

It was in those contained moments that he most keenly felt her
pain. It was that pain that had him holding back now. Whatever had happened,
whatever she’d done, whatever shame she bore, it couldn’t compare to her
suffering.

“Even back then,” she whispered, her fingers getting ever
closer to his left nipple, “I never shared my bed overnight.”

His heart beat so hard, it was a wonder it didn’t rattle the
bed. He flattened her hand to his chest to keep her still. “You need a larger
bed.” The full-size mattress wasn’t nearly big enough for her, him and Cash, to
boot. The proximity of her body was almost a necessity; there wasn’t room for
him to ease away.

He heard the smile in her voice when she said, “Until you, it
wasn’t an issue.”

“I have a king-size bed.”

“Much better suited to a man of your size.”

Did she shift her leg against him on purpose, to punctuate that
comment about his
size?
“We’ll stick close, that’s
all.” He locked her to him, his only defense. “It’s fine.”

She relaxed again. “If you’re sure.”

He throbbed all over, skin hot, muscles clenched, need
escalating with each touch of her moist breath. But he wasn’t a wimp, so he
wouldn’t budge—not when he knew Alice wanted him to stay.

“Go to sleep now.” He hugged her, kissed her forehead and
pretended to fall asleep. Tomorrow he’d take care of work obligations.

And after that...he’d take care of Alice.

* * *

T
HE
STORMS
LEFT
behind air too muggy
to breathe. Even inside the bar, the sluggish cooling system couldn’t fight the
humidity. Rowdy rubbed the back of his neck. Perspiration stuck his shirt to his
back and curled the ends of his unkempt hair.

Not that he gave a damn.

Restless, he sipped his beer and thought far too much about too
many women.

Even without a reason to worry, his sister stayed on his mind.
He should relegate that duty to Logan now—but he knew he wouldn’t. Pepper was
the most important person in his world. To his dying day, he’d do what he could
to keep her happy and safe.

That brought his thoughts to Alice. Too intuitive for her own
good, Alice nettled him on many levels. Not with any intimate interest,
regardless of Reese’s concern. But she was alone, vulnerable, emotionally
guarded. Sure, she would deny that, at least to him. Maybe not to Reese.

Either way, it didn’t change the facts. Something or someone
plagued her. Rowdy planned to figure it out.

It complicated his intent, the way she made him feel so
defensive. And wary. How the hell had she so easily gotten to him? And why did
she want to pick at his psyche, anyway? Women approached him all the time, but
not
because they wanted to understand him.

Never that—thank God.

Staring toward a tableful of women without really seeing them,
Rowdy drank his beer. So far tonight, his questions had gone unanswered. He had
a few leads, but nothing solid. A few sources checking into facts, but they
could be unreliable.

He wouldn’t give up.

As his gaze moved around the room, a woman smiled at him, but
he didn’t encourage her. Another lifted her drink to him in a suggestive toast.
He glanced beyond her.

Everything came full circle as he realized he once again
searched for Avery Mullins, the third woman on his mind.

He got why his sister had taken up permanent residence in his
thoughts. It didn’t take a shrink to know that he’d lost everyone—except her.
Now that she’d found her happy-ever-after with a good guy, he felt at loose
ends. Picking up on his protector role with Alice made sense.

He could roll with the punches when necessary, but he liked
playing guard dog. Alice could use his special street savvy, and assisting her
gave him a solid purpose. So he thought about her. Made sense.

No problem.

But Avery...what the hell was it about her? Rather than lie to
himself, he admitted that he came to this particular dive, repeatedly, on the
chance he’d run into her again.

That last time they’d crossed paths, he’d had goons after him
intent on a beat-down. You couldn’t live his life and not make enemies left and
right. Elusive and cautious as he might be, every so often the disgruntled
bastards caught up.

If it hadn’t been for Avery assisting him out a back exit, he
would have had to crawl from the bar, bloody and battered. Two men he could
handle. Maybe even three. But five armed and muscled bullies lessened his odds
of getting away upright, on his own steam.

Without too many questions asked and only a little
condemnation, Avery had lent a hand to protect him. He’d repaid her by stealing
a couple of kisses.

Lousy little pecks under shitty conditions and a definite time
crunch. That’s all they’d shared.

Added up, those kisses totaled less than five seconds, so they
hardly counted.

Yet...they’d stuck with him.
She’d
stuck with him.

It wasn’t because she amused him without even trying. Or that
her forthright manner was adorably honest. It wasn’t even the way she looked at
him with heated awareness—all while denying an attraction.

With Avery, he was more likely to get insults than
come-ons.

She’d stuck with him because he needed to have her.

That’s all it was, all it could be. Once Avery gave in to the
chemistry, he’d get her naked, over him or under him so he could sate himself
until he got her out of his system.

And then he’d move on, as he always did.

As often as he came by hoping to see her, she had to be
avoiding him. That last time, along with the kisses, he’d managed to wrangle her
name from her.

While withholding his own.

Necessary then, but now...now Rowdy Yates was in the clear. He
could offer a proper introduction.

If only she stopped dodging him.

While thinking of Avery, his gaze snagged on a petite blonde
wearing a barely there mini dress. Great legs. Tiny waist. Come-and-get-me
smile. He should take her up on it...except that he wasn’t all that interested.
Damn.

He transferred his attention to a tall, willowy brunette. She
stared at him with blatant invitation. Fake boobs, but what did he care?

No. Still nothing.

He finished off his beer, sulking when he never sulked and
wondering if he should just take a woman—any woman—to prove to
himself...what?

On this particular night he didn’t need the company. Sure, he
had a lot on his mind, but it wasn’t the disturbing stuff that sometimes plagued
him in his dreams. It wasn’t the hell of a past reality, dark and gritty and
sharp, clawed with disturbing images of what he’d—

“You know, if I was gay, we’d get along just fine and
dandy.”

CHAPTER NINE

S
TARTLED
,
PULLED
from thoughts of his
flawed psyche, Rowdy turned his head, and there stood none other than Avery
Mullins. A headband held her incredible dark red hair off her face. Given the
kiss of sun on her nose and cheeks, she’d spent a few hours outdoors earlier in
the day.

At a few inches over five feet, probably weighing no more than
a buck-ten, she presented an enticing little package—a package that had his
muscles twitching to attention.

Though her opening salvo held plenty of attitude, her blue-eyed
gaze avoided his as she finished tying a clean, crisp apron around her waist.
Had she come directly to him at the start of her shift?

It appeared so.

Rife with satisfaction and anticipation, Rowdy relaxed back in
his seat. “Knowing you’re not gay is a relief.”

“Shouldn’t be. It’s nothing to you.”

Extra snippy tonight. He felt challenged. Hell, he felt alive.
“I’m curious what you meant about us getting along.”

“The women you eyeball.” She finished with the apron and, with
nothing else to do, picked up his empty beer glass. “Very bad taste, if you
don’t mind me saying so.”

He didn’t mind her saying anything as long as she stuck close.
“’S that right?”

“If I courted women, we’d never be competing, that’s for
sure.”

Using his foot, Rowdy pushed back the chair opposite him. “Take
a seat and tell me about it.”

“Can’t.” She tipped her head at the crowded floor. “I got
called in on my day off because someone called in sick. With only one full-time
waitress and two part-time, this place is always short staffed. So, as of five
minutes ago, I’m on the clock.”

“And I’m a customer.” So this was her day off? And she only
worked here part-time. Interesting.

“Yes, you are.” She lifted the glass. “That’s why I was going
to get you another beer.”

“Not just yet.” Maybe not at all. He needed to stay sharp if he
hoped to do some snooping into Alice’s past.

“No?” She looked skeptical. “Since you usually drink two, I
just assumed...”

“You know my habits?” Had she been around on his visits, and he
hadn’t known it? Before he left tonight, he’d find out her schedule. “In that
case, I should introduce myself, right?”

“You’re no longer incognito?”

He no longer had dire threats hanging over his head—but no
reason to dump his sordid past on her. “Rowdy Yates.”

“Like the old Clint Eastwood character?”

“Guess my folks were comedians, huh?” Or too drunk to make
logical decisions. Whatever.

“More likely you’re making it up.”

Rowdy shook his head. “We’ll eventually get together.” And top
of his list was giving her a screaming, unforgettable orgasm. “When we do, I
damn well want you saying the right name.”

“I...” As if she’d read his thoughts, she swallowed whatever
she’d started to say and referred back to his offer to sit. “I should be
working.”

He let his gaze dip over her for one tantalizing peek. “You can
take a minute, right?” He loved the way this particular woman dressed down in
jeans and Ts. “I’ll make it up to you with a big tip.”

She waffled. “I am on a tight budget.”

“So, do us both a favor. Take the tip—and tell me how it is we
wouldn’t be competing for the fairer sex.”

Challenged, she said, “Sure, why not?” She dropped into the
chair and propped her elbows on the table. “That blonde?” Using the beer glass,
she pointed in the general direction of the crowded floor. “Horrible breath.
She’s a chain smoker. Probably been outside twice already to puff away. By this
time of night she’s so stale you pick it up from six feet away.”

He wouldn’t kick her out of bed for being a smoker, but he
wasn’t keen on it either. “And the brunette?”

“Very unpleasant...” She stopped, flattened her mouth and gave
up with a shake of her head. “Actually, she’s a big-time bitch.”

Whoa. Rowdy’s left eyebrow shot up. It was the first time he’d
heard Avery curse. “To you?”

“To
everyone
. If she doesn’t have a
legitimate complaint, she makes up something. She’s so annoying, I’m the only
one who will willingly wait on her.”

Probably insecure, then. Definitely not his thing.

He enjoyed strong women. Confident women.

Redheads.

Had he actually missed Avery that much?

To shake off his odd mood, Rowdy teased, “Aren’t you the little
critic today?”

“Just a few observations on my part.”

“I’ll scratch them both off the list, then,” Rowdy
promised.

She still looked disgruntled. “Hey, if you don’t mind kissing
an ashtray or listening to nonstop complaints, go for it. They both look
agreeable.”

Yeah, he’d go for it—but with Avery, not a substitute. “I
appreciate the feedback. Anyone else I should avoid?”

She shrugged. “To each his own, but I’d steer clear of that one
in the corner, too, the one with the short brown hair.”

Rowdy looked and admired. Nice. Long legs, shapely bod, plenty
of attitude. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing if you like a lot of ink.”

“Tattoo?”

“Plural. And they’re weird. I mean, not the usual stuff you’d
see on a woman. They’re not pretty, just extremely noticeable.”

“I don’t see them.”

“Because she’s facing you. One runs up the back of her calf,
and another is across the top of her shoulder.”

Rowdy nodded, but again, while he didn’t get turned on by tats,
they didn’t really bother him either.

“Thanks. Thing is, though, I wasn’t looking at any particular
woman.” Giving up his careless slouch in the seat, he sat forward, forearms on
the tabletop, attentive, even enchanted.

Avery glanced at his shoulders, over his chest and...away.

He’d felt her attention like a stroke. Eventually, she’d stop
denying him. “Actually, if you want the truth, I was thinking about a lady I saw
earlier today.”

Her back stiffened. “Only one? I’m shocked.” She started to
stand.

Rowdy caught her wrist.

Awareness arced between them, and they both froze, Avery
staring at his hand, Rowdy appreciating her softness and warmth.

Smoothing his thumb back and forth over her wrist, Rowdy noted
the new heat in her cheeks mixing with the slight sunburn. “Want me to tell you
about her?” A pulse tripped in her pale throat. He wanted to put his mouth, his
tongue, right there. He wanted to free her silky hair, taste her flushed skin,
breathe in her heady scent—

She swallowed, lifted her chin. “I assume she’s a woman you
plan to sleep with.”

“Wrong again.” At the moment, Avery was the only woman he
wanted. “I didn’t visit her for that.”

“So, she’s a relative?”

Another assumption? He shook his head. “I only met her
recently.”

“Too old? Too young?”

Did she honestly think he slept with every woman he met? “No,
smart-ass. She’s probably mid-twenties.”

“Hmm.” Avery eased away from his hold to tuck her hand beneath
the table. “I take it she’s not sexy enough for you, then.”

Rowdy gave it some thought. “You know, in a quiet, sort of
naive way, she’s really sensual.” And intrusive, but he could forgive her that
since she had good intentions.

“Wonderful.” Avery’s tone turned brisk. “Glad to hear it.
Sounds like you’re all set.”

Shades of jealousy? Nice. “I already told you, it’s not like
that. I think she might be in some trouble, and I hoped to help her. That’s
all.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know yet. But I’m working on it.”

“So this—” she gestured at the small table, at his empty beer
glass “—your lack of company or interest in drinking, that was you...fretting
over her?”

Did she have to make that sound so absurd? “I don’t
fret.
I was strategizing.” And sulking, but that was
such an aberration, no way in hell would he admit it to someone else.

“I should assume she’s not married? Doesn’t have anyone else to
assist her?”

“Not married, no, but from what I can tell, she’s taken.”

“Ah.” More antagonistic by the second, Avery regained her feet.
“I guess that makes her off-limits.”

Rowdy stood, too. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”
She looked ready to
throw the empty beer glass at his head. “So if the woman you like has a
significant other—”

“It’s not about me liking her.” Taking care not to move too
quickly, Rowdy circled the table to close the space between them. He wanted to
lessen his odds of getting hit with a projectile. “It’s about me respecting the
other guy.”

Tipping her head back, Avery stared up at him. “And in this
case you do?”

Rowdy couldn’t help it. Recognition brought a slow grin. “Yeah,
I do.” He actually liked Reese, respected his ability and intuition, and even
enjoyed his company. “Crazy, huh?”

“Why is it crazy?”

“For one thing, because he’s a cop.”

Sounding tart, Avery said, “And here I thought you avoided the
police.”

Yeah, he used to. For the most part, he still would. “Guess
this cop is different.”

“Or,” Avery said with emphasis, studying him, picking him apart
in profound ways, “it only seems that way because you’re now different.”

Son of a bitch.
The truth stunned
Rowdy. Yeah, since Logan and Reese had obliterated the biggest threat against
his sister, he
was
different.

Funny that only Alice and Avery had ever dared enough, or cared
enough, to analyze his motives. It bugged the hell out of him that Alice did
it.

But with Avery... “Damn, woman.” Appreciating her insight,
Rowdy trailed the backs of his fingers over a long hank of silky hair. “I just
realized that you missed your calling.”

She put a theatrical hand to her chest. “You’re saying I’m not
meant to be a waitress in a sleazy, broke-dick bar about to go under?”

Broke-dick? He grinned. She really was feeling sassy tonight.
He liked it. He liked her. Maybe too much.

“Nope.” He wanted to swing her off her feet. He wanted to kiss
her the way she needed kissing. But the new, different Rowdy restrained himself.
“You’re meant to be the bartender.”

“I...” She eyed him. “The bartender?”

Ignoring her confusion, Rowdy again surveyed the crowd, this
time bypassing the customers and instead taking note of the structure, the
furniture, improvements that could be made.

A good cleaning and fresh paint would go a long way in making
the place less seedy. More appropriate lighting. A little rearranging to better
utilize space...

“You think I should be the bartender?” Avery waved that damned
glass like a spotlight.
“Here?”

“Absolutely.” She might not advertise it, but Avery had a
take-charge air stemming from independence instead of arrogance. She presented a
great appearance without flaunting her body, and somehow drew more attention
because of it. She listened, heard things and had a grasp on the customer base,
as just proven with her observations.

“You’re delirious.” She patted his chest in dismissal. But once
her hand connected with his body, the pat turned to a curious caress—until she
caught herself and quickly withdrew.

Rowdy felt his interest expand. “We could continue that in
private.”

“Yeah, uh...” She cleared her throat. “Thanks, but no thanks.
I’m working.”

And that was her only reason for turning him down this time?
Though he’d hopefully hidden it, her touch almost leveled him—and made him more
determined to have his way. “I think you’ll love being bartender—once the place
changes from broke-dick to thriving.”

“I hardly think that’s possible.”

“Should we make a bet?” Finally, he had another cause. And this
one would be no less challenging than uncovering the threat to Alice Appleton.
He felt a rush of adrenaline and couldn’t wait to make plans.

Nose in the air, Avery said, “I’m not a gambler,” and she
started away.

Catching her by the apron strings, Rowdy hauled her back
around. “Where can I find the proprietor?”

“Usually anywhere but here.” She let out a strained breath, saw
he was dead serious and nodded toward the back rooms. “Tonight you’re in
luck.”

Luck, fate, whatever. He’d take it, especially when it came
hand in hand with Avery. “Perfect, thanks.” He started to turn away.

This time she drew him back by grabbing a handful of his
T-shirt. “What are you going to do?”

He planned to do all sorts of things, most especially to this
particular woman. Rowdy took the glass away from her and set it on the
table.

“Rowdy...” she warned.

Grinning, honest-to-God happy, he caught her upper arms and
lifted her to her tiptoes. Her soft lips parted on a gasp, then softened more
when he pressed his mouth to hers. Keeping the kiss light wasn’t easy, not when
she tasted so good and felt so...right.

“That’s number three,” he breathed against her mouth. “Not all
that satisfying, I know, but if my offer gets accepted, I promise to improve on
that soon.”

Her heavy eyes brightened. “Your offer?”

Almost by rote, she fought the chemistry. Once he saw her on a
more regular basis, he’d find a way past her reservations. “Do me a favor and
stick around tonight. I can’t very well promote you if you keep dodging me.”

She laughed. “And you figure to promote me...how?”

“I’m going to buy the place.”

Her eyes rounded and her mouth opened, but she held silent.
Yeah, he liked that reaction.

Rowdy chucked her under the chin. “Let me take care of
business, and then we can discuss your new salary.” He leaned closer to say,
“You’re going to like working for me, Avery. You have my word on that.”

As he walked away, he heard the loud release of her pent-up
breath, and then a low snarl of frustration.