Blue-Eyed Devil (13 page)

“You won’t bother us,” he said. “And you’re not even a full-sized wheel. More like a training wheel.”

I rolled my eyes, having already accepted a long time ago that being the target of short jokes from my towering brothers was an inescapable fact of life. “I’m tired,” I said. “Trust me, I’m not up to partying with you and Heidi. One drink and I’ll probably pass out.”

“Then I’ll put you into a cab and send you home.” Jack gave me an inexorable look. “I’ll haul you out of here if I have to, Haven. I mean it.”

Even though I knew he would never use force on me, I felt myself blanch, and I went stiff in my chair. Don’t touch me, I wanted to say, but the words were locked behind my teeth, thrashing like caged wild birds.

Jack blinked in surprise, staring at me. “Hey . . . I was just kidding, honey. For God’s sake, don’t look at me like that. It makes me feel as guilty as shit, and I don’t even know why.”

I forced myself to smile and relax. “Sorry. Bad memory.” I reflected that Nick wouldn’t have wanted me to go out tonight, having fun, meeting people. He would have wanted me to stay at home, isolated. Just for that, I decided, I would go out to spite him.

“Okay,” I heard myself say. “Maybe for a little while. Is what I’m wearing all right?” I was dressed in a black turtleneck and a simple skirt and pumps.

“Sure. It’s just a casual bar.”

“It’s not a meeting-people type of bar?”

“No. This is an after-work bar where you get a drink to unwind. After that, you leave for the meeting-people type of bar. And if you pick up someone good there, you go to a nice, quiet gonna-get-laid bar, and if that works out, you take her home with you.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” I said.

Vanessa came to the opening of the cubicle, slim and sleek and poised. “What fun,” she said, her gaze moving from Jack to the present on the desk. She confused me with a warm smile. “Well, I guess you deserve a reward, Haven . . . you did a great job this week.”

“Thanks.” I was surprised and gratified that she would praise me in front of my brother.

“Of course,” she added, still smiling, “we’ll have to work on using your time more productively.” She winked at Jack. “Someone likes to e-mail friends when she should be working.”

That wasn’t true — I was outraged — but I couldn’t argue with her in front of Jack. “I don’t know how you got that idea,” I said mildly.

Vanessa gave a gentle laugh “I noticed the way you click on the minimizer whenever I walk by.” She turned to Jack. “Did I hear you say you two were going out?”

My heart sank as I realized she wanted to be invited along. “Yeah,” Jack said easily. “We need a little family time together.”

“That’s nice. Well, I’ll be home, resting up and getting ready for next week.” She gave me a wink. “Don’t be too much of a party girl, Haven. I’ll need you to get up to full speed by Monday.”

Implying, I thought darkly, that I hadn’t been at full speed so far. “Have a nice weekend,” I said, and closed my laptop.

Jack had been right — it was a fairly casual bar, even if the parking lot did look like an impromptu luxury-car show. The interior was trendy, unromantic, and crowded, with dark paneling and low lighting. I liked Jack’s girlfriend Heidi, who was bubbly and giggly.

It was one of those winter evenings when the Houston weather couldn’t make up its mind about what it wanted to do. It rained on and off for a while, a few sideways gusts hitting us beneath the shelter of an umbrella as Jack guided us inside. I gathered Jack was a regular at this place — he appeared to know the bouncer, two of the bartenders, a couple of waitresses, and pretty much everyone who passed by our small table. In fact, Heidi seemed to know everyone too. I was introduced to a steady parade of overworked Houstonites who were all desperate for their first Friday-evening cocktails.

A couple of times Heidi nudged me under the table when a nice-looking guy had stopped by. “He’s cute, isn’t he? I know him — I could fix you up. And that one over there — he’s cute too. Which one do you like better?”

“Thank you,” I said, appreciating her efforts, “but I’m still not over the divorce.”

“Oh, you’ve got to get a rebound guy,” Heidi said, “Rebound guys are the best.” “They are?”

“They never even think of getting serious, because everyone knows you don’t jump into a relationship right after a divorce. They just want to be your welcome wagon when you start having sex again. It’s your time to experiment, girl!”

“The world is my petri dish,” I said, raising my drink.

After slowly drinking one and a half vodka martinis, I was ready to go home. The bar was getting more crowded, and the groups of bodies moving by our table reminded me of upstreaming salmon. I looked at Jack and Heidi, who appeared in no hurry to go anywhere, and I felt the kind of loneliness that can happen in a roomful of people when everyone but you seems to be in on the good time.

“Hey, you two . . . I’m heading out.”

“You can’t,” Jack said, frowning. “It’s not even eight o’clock.”

“Jack, I’ve had two drinks and met three hundred and twenty-eight people,” — I paused to grin at Heidi — “including a couple of potential rebound guys.”

“I’ll fix you up with one of ‘em,” Heidi said enthusiastically. “We’ll go on a double date!”

When hell and half of Texas freezes over, I thought, but I smiled. “Sounds great. Let’s talk later. Bye, y’all.”

Jack began to stand. “I’ll help you get a cab.”

“No, no . . . stay with Heidi. I’ll ask one of the door guys to help me.” I shook my head in exasperation as he still looked concerned. “I can find the front door and get a cab. In fact, 1800 Main is close enough I could even walk.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

“I’m not planning to walk, I was just pointing out . . . Never mind. Have fun.”

Relieved at the prospect of going home and taking off my high-heeled pumps, I plunged into the mass of jostling bodies. It gave me a clammy feeling, being close to so many people.

“I don’t think it’s an outright phobia,” Susan had said when I’d told her I thought I’d developed sexophobia. “That would put it on the level of a disorder, and I’m not convinced the problem is that deep-seated. What happens is, after an experience like you had with Nick, your unconscious mind says ‘I’ll attach feelings of aversion and anxiety to the opposite sex, so I’ll avoid ever being hurt again.’ It’s just a matter of rewiring.”

“Well, I’d like to wire around it, then. Because I don’t think I have it in me to go gay.”

“You don’t have to go gay,” Susan had said, smiling. “You just have to find the right man. It’ll happen when you’re ready.”

In retrospect, I wished I’d had sex with someone before Nick, some positive association that would help me get back in the saddle, so to speak. Bleakly I wondered how many men I was going to have to sleep with before I started to like it. I wasn’t good at acquired tastes.

The mass of people inched by the bar. Every stool was occupied, hundreds of drinks set along the expanse of glittering mosaic table-top tiles. There was no way to get to the door other than follow along with the herd. Revulsion spiked in my stomach every time I felt another impersonal brush of someone’s hip, someone’s stomach, someone’s arm. To distract myself, I tried to calculate how many people beyond the acceptable fire code level had been admitted to the bar.

Someone in the herd stumbled or staggered. It was a domino effect, one person falling into another until I felt the impact of a shoulder against mine. The momentum pushed me into the line of barstools, causing me to drop my purse. I would have bumped hard into the bar if someone sitting there hadn’t reached out to steady me.

“Sorry, ma’am,” someone called from the crowd.

“It’s okay,” I said breathlessly, hunting for my purse.

“Here, let me get that,” the guy on the barstool said, bending down to retrieve it.

“Thanks.”

As the guy straightened and handed me the purse, I looked up into a pair of blue eyes, and everything stopped, the sound of voices, the background music, every footstep, blink, breath, heartbeat. Only one person I’d ever met had eyes that color. Dazzling. Devil-blue.

I was slow to react, trying to jump-start my heart back into action, and then my pulse hammered too hard, too fast. All I could think of was that the last time — the only time — I’d seen Hardy Cates, I’d been wrapped around him in my family’s wine cellar.

People were pressing behind me, trying to get the bartender’s attention. I was about to be trampled. With a murmur, Hardy Cates guided me to the stool he’d been occupying, helping me up. I was too dazed to object. The leather seat was warm from his body. He stood with one hand on the counter, the other on the back of my chair, sheltering me. Trapping me.

Hardy was a little leaner than I remembered, a little more seasoned, tempered by maturity. The look of experience suited him, especially because somewhere deep in those eyes, there still lurked a dangerous invitation to play. He had a quality of masculine confidence that was a thousand times more potent than mere handsomeness. Perfect good looks could leave you cold, but this kind of sexy charisma went straight to your knees. I had no doubt every available woman at the bar had been drooling over him.

In fact, just beyond the outline of his shoulder, I saw the leggy blonde in the next chair glaring at me. I had stumbled, literally, into the middle of their conversation.

“Miss Travis.” Hardy looked at me as if he couldn’t quite believe I was there. “Pardon. I mean Mrs. Tanner.”

“No, I’m . . . it’s Travis again.” Aware that I was stammering, I said baldly, “I’m divorced.”

There was no change in his expression except for a slight widening of those blue-on-blue eyes. He picked up his drink and tossed back a swallow. When his gaze returned to mine, he seemed to be looking right inside me. I flushed hard, remembering the wine cellar again.

The blonde was still giving me the evil eye. I gestured to her awkwardly and babbled, “I’m sorry to interrupt. I didn’t mean to . . . please, you go on with your . . . it was nice seeing you, Mr. — ”

“Hardy. You’re not interrupting anything. We’re not together.” He glanced over his shoulder, the yellow bar light sliding over the layers of his shiny dark hair. “Excuse me,” he said to the woman. “I have to catch up with an old friend.”

“Sure,” she said with a dimpled smile.

Hardy turned back to me, and the woman’s face changed. From the look she gave me, I should have dropped dead on the spot.

“I’m not going to take your chair,” I said, beginning to slide off the barstool. “I was just heading out. It’s so crowded in here — ” My breath caught as my legs touched his, and I scooted up onto the stool again.

“Give it a minute,” Hardy said. “It’ll thin out soon.” He gestured for a bartender, who appeared with miraculous speed.

“Yes, Mr. Cates?”

Hardy looked at me, one brow lifting. “What’ll you have?”

I’ve really got to go, I wanted to tell him, but it came out as, “Dr Pepper, please.”

“Dr Pepper — extra cherries,” he told the bartender.

Surprised, I asked, “How did you know I like maraschinos?” His mouth curved with a slow burn of a smile. For a moment I forgot how to breathe. “Just figured you for the type who likes extra.”

He was too big. Too close. I still hadn’t rid myself of the habit of assessing a man in terms of how much damage he could do to me.

Nick had left bruises and fractures — but this guy could kill a normal person with a swipe of his hand. I knew that someone like me, with all my baggage and my possible case of sexophobia had no business being around Hardy Cates.

His hands were still on either side of me, braced on the chair arm and the countertop. I felt the tension of opposing urges, the desire to shrink away from him, and an attraction that prickled like sparks in-side me. His silver-gray tie had been loosened and the top button of his shirt was unfastened, revealing the hint of a white undershirt beneath. The skin of his throat was smooth and brown. I wondered for a second what his body felt like beneath the layers of thin cotton and broadcloth, if he was as hard as I remembered. A tumult of curiosity and dread caused me to fidget on the chair.

I turned gratefully as the bartender brought my drink, a highball of sparkling Dr Pepper. Bright red cherries bobbed on the surface. I plucked one from the drink and pulled the fruit from its stem with my teeth. It was plump and sticky, rolling sweetly on my tongue.

“Did you come here alone, Miss Travis?” Hardy asked. So many men his size had incongruously high voices, but he had a deep voice, made to fill a big chest.

I considered telling him to call me by my first name, but I needed to keep every possible barrier between us, no matter how slight.

“I came with my brother Jack and his girlfriend,” I said. “I work for him now. He has a property management company. We were celebrating my first week.” I picked out another cherry and ate it slowly, and found that Hardy was watching me with an absorbed, slightly glazed expression.

“When I was little, I could never get enough of these,” I said. “I stole jars of maraschinos from the fridge. I ate the fruit like candy and poured the juice into my Coke.”

“I bet you were a cute little girl. A tomboy.”

“Absolutely a tomboy,” I said. “I wanted to be like my brothers. Every Christmas I asked Santa for a tool set.”

“Did he ever bring you one?”

I shook my head with a rueful smile. “Lots of dolls. Ballet outfits. An Easy-Bake Oven.” I washed down another cherry with a swallow of Dr Pepper. “My aunt finally gave me a junior tool kit, but I had to give it back. My mother said it wasn’t appropriate for little girls.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “I never got what I wanted either.”

I wondered what that was, but getting into personal subjects with him was out of the question. I tried to think of something mundane. Something about work. “How’s your
EOR
business going?” I asked.

From what I knew, Hardy and a couple of other guys had started a small enhanced oil recovery company that went into mature or spent fields after the big companies were through with them. Using specialized recovery techniques, they could locate leftover reserves, called “bypassed pay.” A man could make a lot of money that way.