As Bad As Can Be (2 page)

Colin gave her an amused glance as he crossed behind the bar. “If I'd known you'd be here, Fiona my love, I'd have left practice early,” he said, mocking her accent.

“Sure, and the pope eats steak on Friday,” she retorted as she took up her full tray and walked off.

Shay eyed his little brother. “You're late.” Both of them shared the dark hair and vivid blue eyes of their Black Irish blood, though Shay kept his medium length for convenience. There, the resemblance ended. Colin had an open face and a boyish grin full of laughter. Shay's deep-set eyes and hollowed cheeks promised something altogether darker and more tempting, like deep, rich caramel compared to white sugar.

Colin tied on an apron. “Sorry. Practice ran over. We were in the groove.” He gave a rueful shake of his head. “I tried to hurry but I got pulled over.”

The last bits of late summer twilight streamed in through the wide windows. “So anyone know what they're up to at that new bar on Washington Square?” Shay asked casually, his mind wondering about the SOS phone call he'd received from a friend earlier that afternoon.

Dermott waved a hand and scowled. “A lot of ruckus is what they're up to if you ask me. I walked past last night on me way home. Half-naked women dancing on the bar, and all the crowd on the street making a right mess of things.” He slurped his Guinness and thumped the glass back down on the bar.
“Should shut them down, they should. 'Tisn't decent.”

Colin looked at Shay and raised an eyebrow. “Half-naked women dancing on the bar, eh? Maybe I should go check it out.” He made a move to untie his apron.

Fiona set her tray down on the bar. “What's all this about half-naked women?”

“The new bar on Washington Square.”

“Oh, the Bad Girls.”

“What do you know about it?” Shay asked curiously.

She shrugged as she rattled off her order to Colin, then turned to Shay. “Not much. They only started a few weeks ago.”

“Indecent,” Dermott muttered again.

“'Tisn't,” Fiona countered, leaning an elbow on the bar. “It's just the bartenders doing a bit of dancing when they feel like it, clothes on. There's nothing wrong with it, you know.” She flicked a glance at Colin, who was pouring a whiskey. “I thought it looked to be fun.”

“Thinking of joining up, Fee?” Colin asked, setting the shot on her tray and grabbing a glass to pull a pint of ale simultaneously.

She gave him an opaque look. “Maybe I should. They seem to get a good bit more appreciation than a lass can get around here.”

Colin opened a bottle of Newcastle. “Oh, come on, Fee, you're our fresh-faced young Irish lassie, not a half-naked bad girl.”

“Don't be so quick to think you know everything, Colin O'Connor,” she said tartly, picking up her tray and walking away.

“That was well handled,” Shay said dryly.

“What did I say?” Colin asked, mystified.

Shay shook his head, untying his apron and mentally vowing to stay out of it. “Never mind. Anyway, you can watch the bar. I'm going to head over to see just what they're up to.”

“How come you get to do it?” Colin yelped aggrievedly.

“Maybe because I've been here since eleven and you're an hour and a half late?” Shay tossed his apron in a hamper and ducked under the bar walkthrough.

“Yeah? I say it's because you haven't had a date in this decade. You're married to this bar, big brother. It's not exactly healthy.”

Shay turned to look at Colin for a long moment. “You have any other observations to make about my personal life?”

“Other than the fact that you don't have one?” At Shay's glower, Colin backed up. “Hey, I know, I know, the family legacy is in your hands and all that stuff. Anyway, abstinence is very hip these days.”

“Are you finished?”

Colin grinned. “No, but you wouldn't listen anyway. Go spy on the half-naked women. Be sure to take notes so you can tell me all about it.”

Shay snorted and headed toward the door.

“You watch yourself, now, young Shay,” Dermott advised. “Those bad girls will tempt a man into all sorts of trouble.”

 

S
HAY COULD HEAR THE PULSING
music before he drew close to the line of would-be bar patrons standing restlessly near the door, some tapping their feet in time with the monster bass line. If any of them were over twenty-three, he'd have been shocked. He recognized
the beefy man sitting at the head of the line. “Hey, Benny.”

“Hey, Shay. Why aren't you over pulling pints?” Whoops and cheers spilled out of the open door behind him.

“Thought I'd come on over and see what's new in the neighborhood.” And do a favor for a friend. Six years before, Dev Carson had been a contractor doing renovation work on O'Connor's. The two of them had clicked, drawn together by a mutual fondness for sailing and music. Now, Dev was calling for help. Make sure my sister's not getting herself in trouble, he'd asked. Their friendship was too close for Shay to do anything but agree to watchdog the sister he'd never met.

Benny swept a hand toward the bar. “Be my guest.”

Shay walked in through the open door and into controlled bedlam.

The music throbbed so loud that the walls seemed to vibrate with it. Colored spotlights swirled above a long bar that ran the length of the room. At least, he figured it was a bar. It was difficult to tell because of the wall of people in front of it. And above their heads he saw the two women.

They danced up and down the bar, whipping their hair, swaying to the music, throwing in the occasional bump and grind. The crowd of mostly young men whistled and hollered at every shift of the shapely hips above them. Blond and redheaded, the two played off each other, now dancing in synch, now doing their own moves, strutting down to the brass poles at either end of the bar to spin around.

The half-naked rumor was definitely an exaggera
tion. They wore hip-hugging pants and skimpy tops designed to flaunt cleavage and tanned midriffs. Nothing more scandalous than you'd see in the average shopping mall. Shay gave a wry smile. Perhaps Colin was right about him being married to the pub—the duo on the bar were designed to tease, but to him they looked harmless, more like sorority babes on spring break than anything else.

It seemed to work for the rest of the clientele, though, who surged whooping and cheering against the bar, completely involved in every movement. The redhead crouched down on the bar with a bottle of tequila and poured it into the open mouth of a frat boy who was leaning his head back, swallowing furiously while his buddies counted to ten. Then he straightened up, grinning, holding both hands over his head like a prize fighter.

Shay sighed. Even a half hour of this was going to be too much. It was going to be a long night if he had to hang around more than a few minutes.

 

A
CROWDED BAR
, that was what she liked to see, Mallory thought as she poured drinks, her hands an efficient blur of motion. Above her, Kayla swung her long blond hair and danced with redheaded Belinda, while Liane and Michelle worked next to her to pass drinks to patrons.

The buzz of the register was its own seductive music, especially after the lean weeks just past. If she could keep the bar full like this on a regular basis, her financial concerns would be only a memory.

“I'm going to take a quick walk around,” she said to Michelle and ducked under the walkthrough. Part of running her own place meant being responsible for
every aspect of it, knowing what was happening outside as well as in. A good manager knew what was going on in her establishment.

She threaded through the crowd around the bar. A glance outside told her the admission line had doubled from when she'd seen it earlier in the night. “How's the traffic look, Benny?” she asked her doorman in an undertone.

“We're still at about three-quarters capacity,” he answered.

She could let them all in, but a line created buzz. Mallory checked her watch. “Keep the line at about six people until eleven, then let everybody in up to capacity.”

Benny grinned. “Whatever you say, chief.”

 

E
VEN AS ONE OF THE DANCERS
stepped down to go back to tending bar, another jumped up to take her place. Bored, Shay stepped away from the crowd at the bar and began to look around. The space was bigger than it looked on first impression. It stretched back beyond the bar area and widened out into a section filled with a couple of scaled down pool tables and some tables and chairs in an area that could double as a bar or a dance floor. Currently it was only lightly populated; everybody wanted to be by the bar, where the action was.

He grabbed a stool by the wall and sat down to watch the chaos. The servers behind the bar were feverishly pouring drinks. Definitely designed to appeal to the frat boy crowd, he decided, surveying the clientele. It made an impact all right, but for how long? This kind of novelty had to wear off sooner or later.
And if it didn't, what kind of a clientele was it likely to draw into the area once word spread?

The song changed and the blond bartender leaped back onto the bar. Shay scanned the crowd and shook his head.
Dev, old buddy, you've gotten yourself into a king-size mess.
Then his gaze fastened on a woman by the door and he froze.

She was, quite simply, stunning. Beautiful in the larger-than-life way of models and movie stars, in a way that seemed to suck in all available light. She wore a snug leather miniskirt and a short, white tank top that clung to her and exposed a tanned midriff where a gold navel ring glinted. A river of thick, dark hair tumbled down her back. Amid all the noise, it was as though for a moment he was in a cone of silence.

And all thoughts of Dev flew out of his head.

M
ALLORY STOOD BY THE DOOR
, scanning the crowd for trouble out of habit. Some nights, the torqued up, liquored up patrons could turn on one another like snapping dogs—a possibility that justified having a second bouncer—but tonight they were content to be entranced by the dancer/bartenders, enticed enough to buy them drinks, tantalized enough to make passes that never succeeded. The girls knew the drill: flirt but don't fall. Every guy who walked through the door, of course, assumed that he'd be the exception, and so they were happy to stand in line to get in, just for the chance of seeing and talking to the dancers. It was the source of Bad Reputation's recent success.

Mallory took another glance across the room, and in the sea of faces, one leaped out at her. He wasn't entranced—far from it. If anything, he looked bored. He didn't nod his head to the music, but sat against the wall with a kind of stillness, the dim lighting shadowing his deep-set eyes. The beginnings of a beard darkened his jaw and encircled his mouth. And it was a beautiful mouth, she couldn't help noticing even from this distance.

At the bar, the noise of the crowd spiked as Kayla and Belinda danced together. It was then that she saw it.

A smirk. A head shake. A faintly supercilious look that spread across his face as he took in the scene.

Irritation flashed through her. On its heels came her innate practicality—a bored guy wasn't going to stick around and buy drinks, and he sure wasn't going to recommend the place to friends. Part of the path to success was sending everyone out happy and ready to return. Maybe she needed to do something about him.

Just then, he turned and looked at her. The eye contact shivered through her veins, stopping her dead. Those eyes pulled at her in a way that made everything recede until she was only conscious of them and of the sudden thud of her heartbeat in her ears.

Then someone at the bar rang the cow bell signifying a tequila shot and she snapped out of it. Magic eyes or no, he was just another customer, and the thing to do with customers was jolly them into spending money. She hooked a circular tray from behind the bar and walked toward him.

The closer she drew, the more clearly she could see his face, the black brows and the slashes of the high cheekbones that gave him something of the artist-in-a-garret look, an impression enhanced by the white poet's shirt he wore. His hair appeared disordered, as though he raked his hands through it regularly. But it was his mouth that drew her, full and sculpted with equal parts humor and anticipation hovering around the corners.

She gave her head an impatient shake. This wasn't about getting distracted by a pretty face, it was about turning a wall sitter into a paying customer. It was time to pull out the charm, blast him with sex. He'd be buying drinks before he knew what hit him. Three,
she decided, looking at him under her lashes. He'd buy at least three before he walked out.

Mallory stopped and fixed him with a sultry smile. “Welcome to Bad Reputation, sugar. What's your pleasure?”

 

S
HAY BLINKED
. S
HE WAS HIS
pleasure, if he was honest, though he had a pretty good idea that she wouldn't be all that impressed with that response. He'd watched her move across the room in a lithe, flowing walk that managed to be far more provocative than any hip sway might be. Why she'd decided to come his way, he wasn't sure, but he was certainly interested in finding out. Up close, she was everything the glance from afar had promised and more. In another century, she would have had men dueling over that aristocratic beauty, vying to tease a smile from that wide, mobile mouth with its full lower lip.

One slim brow arched as she looked down at him. “I get the impression from the way you were looking that we're not doing a very good job entertaining you.”

Shay smiled. “Quite the contrary. I'm very entertained right now. And I'll take a beer when you get a chance. You have Guinness?”

“No Guinness, at least not yet. We've got Bud, Bud Light, Miller, and Heineken.”

“Heineken, then,” Shay said. She was in a whole different class from the rest of the bartenders in the place. Whoever had hired her had known what they were doing.

She leaned over to collect bottles from the shelf behind him, setting them on the tray. “Is this your first time at Bad Reputation?”

Shay nodded, watching her. She had the kind of face that sucked a man in, that made it impossible to look away, because the minute you did, you started wondering if anyone could really be that beautiful. “Just stopped by to see if what I've heard was true.” Not just beauty, he thought. Sex. Something in the curve of her lips and the tilt of those dark eyes suggested abandonment, disregard for rules. Come with me, they said, and I'll show you things you've never even thought of.

“And what had you heard?” The brunette propped her tray on the shelf and looked at him under her lashes.

His mouth curved. “Something about half-naked women dancing on the bar.”

“Well, you've got to admit, they're on the bar and they're dancing.” She glanced over her shoulder to where the blonde was whipping her hair to the music.

“Like college girls having a wild night.”

“You're calling us girls?” She smiled, but her eyes narrowed a trifle in warning.

“Not you, darlin'.” He ran his gaze from her long, smooth legs to the sleek curve of hip and waist, to the dark hair tumbling down her back, and up to that fabulous face. “You're a whole different class from girls.”

A little buzz went through Mallory at his look, and she gave herself a mental shake. She might be giving the appearance of flirting, but she was supposed to be working a customer. It definitely didn't do to get caught up in it. “And here I thought I'd heard about every line out there.”

“I didn't intend it as a line.” His teeth gleamed,
and something of the pirate came out in him then. “Did you want it to be?”

For the first time in years, she found herself at a loss for words. To buy time, she picked up her tray. “Let me go get you that beer,” she said, and turned for the bar.

It was something worth thinking about, that he'd thrown her off her stride. It wasn't just the good looks—she'd had plenty of handsome men come on to her. There was something about him, some command of his surroundings that made him far more compelling than the usual pretty face. To allow her system time to settle, she stopped for a few more orders on her way in.

When she returned with his beer, he still sat loose and relaxed, observing his surroundings with an almost purposeful air.

“Miss me?” she asked teasingly.

“Every second was an eternity,” he said dryly.

Mallory laughed. “I'll bet.”

“Hear any good lines on the way back?”

Her pulse jumped. She set a napkin down on the little shelf and placed the beer on top. “I'm at work, sugar. We don't date customers.” On the other hand, she was beginning to wonder if it wasn't time to reevaluate that policy. She stared at his mouth wondering how it tasted.

“So you're allowed to tease but not to close on the deal?” he asked in amusement, putting the mouth of the bottle to his lips to take a drink. “You ought to at least come up with a way to let your customers down easy, encourage them a little so you get a lasting draw.”

Mallory raised a brow. “And are you looking for encouragement? That'll be three dollars, by the way.”

“I'm probably not your target clientele, but yeah,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

It was a challenge. Mallory gave him a smoky look. “So you don't think I can provide a lasting draw?” She was rewarded when his eyes darkened.

“I get the feeling you can pretty much do anything you want to do,” he said, holding her gaze until she felt something in her begin to heat and soften. “Then again, I haven't seen you up on the bar.”

“Oh, you haven't seen anything like me.” The words were a challenge, the tone a promise.

He looked at her. “You're right. I haven't. For you, I'd make an exception and stay. That's why you should polish up your shut-down line. Teasing is a tricky business. Sometimes people expect you to finish what you start.” He took another drink.

“I never start anything I'm not prepared to finish,” she said coolly.

He tipped his head to one side and eyed her. “Now, that's a thought that'll keep me awake tonight.”

“On the other hand, flirting is just flirting. It doesn't mean I'm starting anything.”

“That's a pity. And here I was just going to buy another beer,” he said.

Her lips twitched. “And it doesn't mean I'm not. You'll just have to buy that beer and see how well I follow policy. Or buy two,” she said, remembering her promise to herself.

“And then do I get to see you dance?”

“I don't dance,” she said automatically.

He finished his beer and set it down on her tray. “Can't or won't?”

“Don't.”

“Really? You don't strike me as the type who would be afraid to be up in front of a crowd.”

“I'm not afraid.”

“Of course not.”

“Get that idea out of your head.”

“I don't doubt you,” he said agreeably. His smile grew wider.

Was that condescension she saw? “I should take care of the other customers,” she said at last. “Are you in for another beer?”

“Sure.” He eyed her assessingly. “I figure I'll stick around to see if you get up there. Since you're not scared.”

Recklessness snatched at her control, but she held on. Mallory turned without a word and went back behind the bar. Normally the routine of drawing beers and pouring drinks soothed her, but not tonight. She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. He thought he knew something about her from a five minute conversation? He was dead wrong.

The tinny bang of three guitar notes heralded the start of INXS's “You're One of My Kind” on the jukebox. The monster groove begged her to move, and without thinking about it she found herself up on the bar.

 

S
HAY'S MOUTH WENT DRY
. Had he thought that the dancing was harmless? He'd been catastrophically mistaken. Long and lean and the stuff of men's dreams, she moved on the bar with lithe grace, whipping her hips and arms to the beat of the music. Raven hair swung around her shoulders, her eyes fastened on his, hot and dark and full of promise. A teasing smile
played over her mouth. At that moment, every man in the room might cheerfully have fought to have her.

But she was looking at him.

The song went on, a tale of teasing and seduction, the moan of a man luring his lover. As she was luring him. Moving to the beat, she mouthed the words and slid one fingertip up her leg, over her hip, across the bare skin of her flat stomach with its gleaming gold ring. Trailing her finger up between her breasts to shouts from the crowd on the floor, she slipped it between her lips, pursing them around it as though she tasted something sweet. Shay felt his body tighten.

The blonde and the redhead climbed back onto the bar to flank her and go through their gyrations, but they were like backup singers behind the lead performer, forgettable and easily dismissed. She and she alone had the crowd surging in a frenzy. She and she alone lured him with the hot promise in her eyes.

Need pumped through him.

 

M
ALLORY LEANED HER BACK
against the brass pole on the bar and slid down it and back up. She was conscious of him watching every move she made, sitting out in the dimness, utterly still. She was up and dancing because he'd goaded her into it. Now she continued because she knew he was watching.
Slide over here, and give me a moment
she mouthed to him, tracing her hands up her body, then lifting the heavy weight of her hair.

As though their minds were linked, she knew how much she was arousing him. It was as though she were dancing for him alone, swaying for her lover, and her hands were his hands, touching her. The buzz spread through her system.

When the song ended, she found herself stepping down to a roaring ovation. Perhaps she ought to get on the bar more often, she thought. Then again, she'd only enjoyed it so much because of the stranger. She passed out beers and shots quickly, waiting for her system to settle.

“Nice job.” The words jolted her system.

She looked up to find him leaning on the hinged panel of the walkthrough at her side, those midnight blue eyes on her. He might have had her up against the wall, mouth and hands on her, for all that she felt his presence. The air between them almost sizzled.

Liane tapped her shoulder and she jumped. “Hey, the keg on line two is out.”

Mallory blinked, still looking at the stranger, then registered what she'd heard. “Where's Randy? He's supposed to be working the back.”

“He's disappeared. Maybe he's on a break or something.”

Mallory cursed as she looked for the bar back who kept them supplied with liquor and fresh glassware. Reliability wasn't his strong suit; strength was. Still, with one tap down, she wasn't going to stand on ceremony. Not that she was thrilled with the idea of wrestling kegs, but there was nothing for it. “Okay, I'll go down and take care of it.”

“You're out of your mind!” Liane hollered. “Those kegs weigh a ton.”

“You want to tell these guys they can't have their Bud? Send Randy down when he shows up.” Mallory flicked another glance at the stranger, then ducked through the door behind her, heading into the back where she could get access to the cold room in the cellar.

She passed the dishwasher filled with glassware and opened the door to the basement. It wasn't that her mystery man was so fabulous, she thought as she snapped on the light and clattered down the stairs. It had simply been too long since she'd had a lover, that was all. Taking a lover had just become too much of a bother. For some reason, no matter how often they said a physical relationship was fine, once she started sleeping with a guy, sex wasn't enough. Suddenly they'd be pushing for more, wanting to get into her head, which was simply not an option. For Mallory, the barriers were high and solid and nonnegotiable. In her world, anything more than sex was impossible. Once you got beyond sex, you ran the risk of giving the other person power over you. The years of watching her father drown his pain in drink were all the proof she needed of that.