Bachelor's Bait (2 page)

Jayne sat at the end of the bar looking as tired as Sophie felt. “Why don’t you go home, Jayne? You’ve had a hell of a day.” Jayne volunteered at the local library. She’d spent the morning helping with an Independence Day party for local preschoolers, dressing up in red, white and blue, reading history-themed children’s books and serving cookies in the shape of the American flag. According to Jayne, the party had been a big, noisy success.

Jayne stifled a yawn. “I’m too tired to move off this stool to make the trek home. Remind me again why we didn’t close for the holiday?”

Stephanie busied herself wiping glasses, hanging them on the rack behind the bar. “Because this place will fill up later tonight when folks shake off work and get ready to celebrate the long weekend. Don’t you remember last year? The bar was packed. It was one of our best nights all year, profit-wise.”

Sophie nodded. “Yep. She’s right. This is the calm before the storm. No one will be here until after dark.”

Jayne sighed. “Then I probably shouldn’t go home. You’ll need me later.”

Stephanie shrugged. “It’s not even five yet. What if you go home for a few hours, put your feet up and come back to work until close? Sophie and I can handle things until then. Jordan said she’d be back at eight to help with the holiday partiers.”

The beauty of owning their own business was the ability to come and go as they wanted. Jordan worked the most conventional hours of the four, opting to do her bookkeeper and office manager duties during the traditional nine-to-five workday. However, on nights as busy as tonight was likely to be, she’d help wait tables or man the cash register on the bookstore side.

Stephanie, the night owl, loved working the late shift, not willing to give up her morning sleep-ins. Sophie and Jayne sort of made up the rest of the time, sometimes coming in early, other days working the later hours. They’d agreed to commit three years to building the business and growing a decent profit before they considered hiring full-time help.

So far they’d been able to keep things rolling on their own, but it had impacted their social lives. Stephanie was the only one of the four with a boyfriend, but as a detective, Jared’s hours were as odd as Stephanie’s. Somehow they managed to make it work, living together and designating Wednesdays as their “date night”.

Sophie really didn’t struggle too hard for dates. She had plenty of offers and she accepted more often than not. The trick was finding a guy she wanted to go on a
second
date with. Her father tended to be the driving force behind her offers, introducing her to doctors and businessmen who ran in his social circles. Dad was determined to find her a “good husband”. She played the dutiful daughter and honestly gave the men a fair shot. Unfortunately, her idea of the perfect man and her father’s were as similar as thoroughbred horses and pack mules.

She didn’t want a man whose singular goal was to acquire as much money and power as possible. She wanted a man with a career that wasn’t the sole focus of his life, who’d come home at a reasonable hour, who wanted to have a family he’d be around to help raise.

While Sophie loved her father, it was her mother who’d done the lion’s share of parenting when she was younger. Her mother, the sweetest woman to ever walk the planet, had been killed by a drunk driver when Sophie was thirteen and, at that point, Dad apparently decided she was old enough to finish the child-rearing by herself. He gave her everything she needed—a roof over her head, stylish clothing, a good education, birthday gifts galore and even a fancy sports car. The only thing he’d never seemed able to spare was time.

There was no way Sophie would let her own children grow up with a part-time father. She knew from firsthand experience, it sucked.

“Earth to Soph.” Stephanie waved her hand in front of Sophie’s face. She jerked herself out of her thoughts and back to the conversation at hand. “What’s up with you today? You keep zoning out.”

Sophie shrugged, picking up the beer their lone patron had ordered. “Just tired, I guess.” She spun to deliver the drink—and ran straight into Marc.

The beer she was carrying splashed up and out of the glass like a mini geyser, covering them both in foamy suds.

“Why are you always in my way?” she snapped, looking at her drenched t-shirt.

Marc frowned, swiping at the beer covering his dress shirt. “Why are you always rushing everywhere without looking where you’re going?”

Stephanie stepped between them with a couple of bar towels. “I take it this is the cell guy. I’m Stephanie. We spoke earlier.”

Marc accepted her offer of a towel with a friendly smile. Sophie tried to ignore the fact that all she’d managed to get from the man were smirks and scowls.

“Marc Garrett.”

“I’m Jayne.” Jayne gave him a quick wave as she produced a mop to clean up the floor.

“There’s a bathroom down that hall,” Stephanie said, gesturing toward the back. She returned to the bar and grabbed a Books and Brew t-shirt, handing it to him. “Here. It’s nice and dry. At least until Sophie bumps into you again.”

“You’re hilarious, Steph.” Sophie grabbed another one of the clean t-shirts for herself then gestured for Marc to follow. Despite the fact he was soaked in beer, he didn’t seem as annoyed as he had when they’d collided on the street.

She pointed to a door. “That’s the men’s room. You can change in there.”

“Thanks.” He entered the room, the door closing behind him.

Sophie tried to shake from her mind the image of his shirt clinging to some fairly impressive pecs. What was wrong with her today? While her libido was far from inactive, something about the cocky lawyer set it off in grand style.

She walked into the ladies’ room and stripped off her wet shirt. Grabbing some paper towels, she dampened them and tried to wash away the smell of beer from her skin. Luckily the shirt had soaked up most of the liquid, so her bra was fairly dry. Tugging the new shirt over her head, she splashed some cold water on her cheeks and returned to the hallway. She’d only taken a few steps when Marc’s head poked out of the doorway. He didn’t bother to leave the men’s room.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He gave her shit-eating grin. “Making sure the coast is clear. Trying to avoid being run over by the society princess for a third time today.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

He joined her in the hall. “Aw, Soph. That hurts.”

She tried to tell herself she didn’t like him using the nickname generally reserved for her best friends. She reached into her pocket and pulled out his phone. “Here. Let’s make the swap and then you can be on your way. I’m sure there must be a list of women a mile long hoping to spend the evening with a guy like you.”

“Like me?”

“One who fairly oozes with charming wit.”

“Oh. I’m
that
man, am I?” He took his phone but made no move to return hers, even though her hand remained outstretched.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked.

He shook his head. “The night’s young and it doesn’t look very busy here. I’ve had a hell of a day. I was thinking I might stick around for a drink.”

Sophie tried to ignore the way her body heated under his rather sexy perusal of her. “Fine. You can just sit anywhere and I’ll—”

“I was hoping you’d join me.”

“Why on earth would I want to have a drink with you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Sophie’s eyebrows lifted. “Should I make a list?”

He grasped her hand, forcing her to shake his. “Let’s start over. I’m Marc Garrett. And you are?”

“Sophie Kennedy.”

“Sophie. I’ve had a very long, rather painful day thanks to you and your father. The least you could do is have a drink with me.”

She dropped his hand. “What does my dad have to do with anything?”

He tilted his head and she got the impression he was trying to read something in her face. “Nothing, apparently.”

Once more he took her hand, but this time he used it to tug her toward a corner table. Stephanie had poured and delivered a new beer to their only customer. It appeared Jayne had decided to go home for a brief respite after all.

Stephanie came over as soon as they sat down. “Aw. This is sweet. You two decided to play nice. You want something to drink, Marc?”

He nodded. “I’d love a Heineken. What about you, Sophie? My treat.”

“I’m working.”

Stephanie scoffed. “Like that’s ever stopped us from having a cold one on slow afternoons. I’ll get you your usual.”

Stephanie returned to the bar to get their drinks.

“What’s your usual?”

She didn’t want to say, afraid Marc would read too much into it. Of course, her silence didn’t matter when Stephanie returned to the table and placed two bottles of Heineken and frosty mugs in front of them.

“On the house,” Stephanie said before returning to the bar.

Marc raised his eyebrows when he saw her beer of choice. He lifted his bottle and tapped it against hers. “To good taste.”

She acknowledged his toast with a slight nod then took a sip of the cool brew. It went down far too easy after the crazy day she’d had. Her long sigh must have given that away.

“Sounds like you’ve had a day and a half too.” If she’d thought Marc was handsome when he was frowning, his face now—as he offered a friendly smile—was drop-dead gorgeous.

She nodded. “It’s been an interesting one.” It had started with an early phone call from her father, asking how his latest attempt at matchmaking had fared. She’d lied, telling Dad his golfing buddy—a world-renowned neurosurgeon—was very nice. In reality, the man had bored her to tears over the pre-dinner drinks and appetizer, spent most of the main course on the phone conferring about a patient then tried to grope her during dessert. Hell would freeze over before she’d consent to another date, but she hadn’t confessed as much to her father. Better to play the duck-and-dodge game, avoiding phone calls and making up excuses until the guy stopped calling.

She’d become a master at giving the illusion of being “interested but busy”.

“You don’t have plans for the holiday?” Marc took another drink of his beer.

She shook her head. If Stephanie hadn’t said something earlier, she would have forgotten all about the Fourth of July. “Nope. Just work. I know it doesn’t look like it now, but we’ll actually do very good business later as folks roll in to kick off the holiday.”

“I imagine you will. You’re in the perfect part of town for a business like this. So how is it a debutante such as yourself ended up waiting tables in a bar?”

Sophie’s temper spiked. “It’s amazing how you can irritate me with just one question. Number one, I’m not a debutante. Number two—and not that it’s any of your damn business—I’m part owner of this place. In addition to waiting tables and helping out on the bookstore side, I’m in charge of marketing and special events.”

“Ah. So you plan parties for a living. Now it’s all starting to make sense.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes. “Did I do something to piss you off? Something more than bumping into you a couple times?”

Marc leaned back and released a long breath. “I think it’s your name that gets under my skin. You’re not exactly what I was expecting after reading about you in the society pages and knowing who your father is.”

“Again with my father. What do you have against him?”

Marc didn’t reply immediately and again she was struck by the feeling he was sizing her up, trying to decide something, though she didn’t have a clue what that could be.

Finally, he said, “I sort of thought you ran into me on purpose today.”

She frowned. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“I was late for an important meeting. With your father’s lawyers and a judge.”

Sophie knew very little about her father’s business, but it was obvious Marc didn’t realize that. Dad’s sole use for her was for entertaining purposes. He didn’t think she was interested in learning the details of his professional life. At least, she told herself he assumed a lack of interest. It was simply too painful to consider the idea that he felt her intelligence was deficient.

“Are you suing my father?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. I’m fighting to save something your father doesn’t want saved.”

“What?”

Marc didn’t reply. Instead, he changed the subject. “So you’re part owner of Books and Brew?” He looked around the room, nodding approvingly. “It’s a cool place. I’ve walked by here a few times but I’ve never come in. I’m sorry about that now. I love the idea of booze and books.”

His impressed assessment only partially appeased her curiosity. What the hell was up between Dad and Marc? Rather than call him on it, she let his dodge stick. “The bar part was Stephanie’s idea. She said if she was going to a bookstore, she preferred to drink a cold beer or a glass of wine rather than a cup of damn coffee.”

“Stephanie’s very wise,” Marc joked.

“She has her moments. Few and far between though they may be. She and I were roommates in college. Jordan and Jayne, the other partners, were our suitemates. After two years in the dorm, the four of us found an apartment off campus for our junior and senior terms. We were only a few weeks away from graduation when we came up with the idea for this place. It took a few years of saving and scrambling to get the investment money, but with the four of us pooling our resources, it worked out eventually. Jayne’s parents helped her. Jordan and Stephanie saved up some of the capital then managed to get small-business loans. My mother left me money in her will, a small trust fund that I invested in the business.”