As Bad As Can Be (4 page)

The burst of anger shocked her. Mallory drew in a breath and worked to stay calm. So the sexy stranger she'd thought was a customer was actually a fellow bar owner from just a few blocks over. She eyed
Randy. “You think he was checking out the competition?”

“I guess,” Randy said thoughtfully. “I don't know, he's supposed to be a stand-up guy, but that doesn't mean he has to be dumb. I mean, the place has been drawing a crowd. Makes sense that people are getting curious. You should take it as a compliment.”

Take what as a compliment, that he'd conned her? That he'd gotten himself a discreet look around by playing grab ass downstairs? That he'd walked away and left her? “A compliment, yeah. I'll try to remember that.” Mallory glanced away. “Look, we're about done here,” she said abruptly. “Why don't you head out?”

“Okay.” He rounded the bar and walked toward the door, then stopped. “Hey listen, I'm sorry about sneaking a butt. It won't happen again.”

“Right. Now go home and get some sleep.” She had a much bigger problem than Randy's smoking habit, Mallory reflected as she closed up the back of the bar and got her keys. What was Shay O'Connor doing checking out her bar on the quiet? It would have been one thing if he'd introduced himself. The fact that he hadn't made her wonder just what he was up to.

Someone was playing games, and it wasn't her.

Yet.

M
ALLORY SAT AT HER KITCHEN
table, sipping at a mug of coffee with the newspaper spread open in front of her. She'd taken care of her first Sunday priority—the funny papers—over toast. Now she was on to part two—the
New York Times
crossword. Staring at the puzzle, she nibbled on the end of her pen before her eyes brightened and she filled in an answer.

Across the room, the answering machine clicked and began to whirr.

Mallory had long ago decided that just because a phone rang, there was no reason she had to answer it. It hadn't taken her much more time to graduate to turning off the ringer. Now, she was blissfully unaware of a caller on the line until her machine went off, which was fine with her. She had one or two friends who considered her antisocial; she just considered herself efficient.

The machine gave a long beep. “Mal, are you there?” Dev's voice came out of the tiny speaker. “Pick up the phone. I know you're—”

She loped over to grab the receiver. “Hey.”

“Why do you make me listen to that stupid message every time?” he asked aggrievedly.

“You know why. It helps me avoid telemarketers.”

“Not to mention other people you don't want to talk to.”

She permitted herself a smile. “That, too. Anyway, I keep telling you, hit the star key and you don't have to listen to the message.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So what are you up to?”

“Working on the crossword. What's a six-letter term for a group of crows?”

“Don't you ever read the news?”

She took a gulp of coffee. “Sure, on weekdays. Sunday's my official day off from world chaos. So how's Melissa?”

Dev blew out a breath. “She's fine now but after you called yesterday, she lit into me as soon as she saw I was hung over. Picked a fight and got nasty.” His tone turned grim. “She saw my wallet on the dresser and said I should take her to her favorite stores to make it up to her.”

“Oh, real nice,” Mallory said sarcastically. “You ask me, big brother, it's time to walk.”

“Yeah, well.” She could hear a rapid thudding that sounded like he was drumming his fingers. “It ticked me off. As soon as she saw it, she apologized and it was like she was fine. She made breakfast, told me about her day, gave me an ice pack for my head.”

Mallory frowned. “And that's supposed to make it all better?” It brought out her protective side. Family took care of its own. “Dev, it's not like getting married is going to change things. You guys are having problems. If things don't work right now, they're not going to later.”

He sighed. “I don't know. Sometimes it's great.”

“Yeah, well, is there anything I can do? Do you want to take a break and come up for a visit?”

“Thanks, but it's my problem and I'm the one
who's got to deal with it. That wasn't why I called, though.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what's up?”

“Well…” He hesitated. “I was thinking about the bar, after we talked yesterday. Sounds like you've got your hands full. It bugs me that I'm not around to help you deal with it.”

“I knew what I was getting into,” she said lightly. “I don't mind going it alone.”

“I've got a better idea.”

A shudder of trepidation ghosted over her. “Why do I not like the sound of this?”

“Remember I told you about a friend of mine in Newport who runs a bar?”

“Yes, and remember, I told you I didn't want help.”

“Just listen to me. He's got a bar of his own. I've asked him to look in on you, see how things are.”

“No!” Mallory said sharply. “This is my show, Dev. I can do this alone. I've been running bars for other people for eight years.”

“Relax, he's not going to run things, okay? But he grew up in Newport, his family's had a pub there for about sixty years. I think he's worth listening to.”

“I thought you were going to be hands-off and let me run things. Why the sudden change of heart?” she asked, her voice bitter.

“Look,” he said gently, “we both know you had a rough start.”

“I told you—”

“Yeah, I know you told me. But yesterday it sounded like you had something up your sleeve you didn't want me to know about.”

“Dev, I was just teasing you.”

“Yeah right.” His tone clearly said he wasn't buying it. “Mal, we both know you have this problem with playing by the rules. And that's fine if you can get away with it. But you can't always do that, particularly when it's your ass and my money on the line. I just want Shay to weigh in before you get us both in trouble.”

There was a sudden roaring in her ears. “Shay?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah, Shay O'Connor. His family owns a pub called O'Connor's. Maybe you've been there.”

Calm, she told herself. The important thing was to keep calm. “I know it. Has your friend by any chance been to Bad Reputation yet?”

“Sure. He stuck his head in last night.”

Damn his eyes, she thought, incensed. He'd flirted with her, come on to her, never once letting her know why he was there. The sudden memory of the heat of his mouth swamped her. She thought of the feel of his hard cock in her hand and a thin thread of arousal twisted through her, despite the wrath and mortification. “What the hell does he think he's doing, walking around my place like some kind of mystery shopper,” she burst out in fury.

“I
asked
him to,” Dev interjected before she could say more. “I just wanted to be sure you weren't doing something we'd both be sorry for.” He paused. “Girls dancing on the bar, Mal? Come on, use some judgment.”

“Dammit, Dev, it's not like they're stripping or anything,” she said hotly. “I didn't plan it. But the important thing is that it's working. The place was packed last night.”

“Yeah, Shay said you also had a fight.”

“Like that's so unusual in a bar? Sounds like our Mr. O'Connor's done entirely too much talking all together,” she said cuttingly. “And did he tell you anything else?”
Like we were five seconds from getting naked?

“There's more? Mal, this was supposed to be a bar, not a club with dancing girls,” he said disgustedly. “Are you telling me you wouldn't be concerned if you were in my shoes?”

His words cooled the anger to hurt. “Don't you trust me, Dev?”

“You know I do.” His voice softened. “I think you're the best. But maybe we both bit off a little bit more than you could chew this time.”

“I can make this work, I know I can,” she said desperately.

“If you were in a leaky boat surrounded by sharks, you'd still be too stubborn to call for help. I want Shay in there. That way I won't have to wonder. I'll know.”

She stared at the phone. “Is this an ultimatum?”

“Mal, it's not about ultimatums. Just consider him my stand-in. I can't be around so I'm drafting him to do it for me. He's going to offer advice, that's all. Just go talk to him.”

Oh, yes, she thought, she'd talk with him all right. She'd give Shay O'Connor a talking to he'd never forget. “Fine,” she said shortly. “If that's the way you want it, fine.”

“It's only for a little while, just till things get rolling.”

“Right.”

“Good.” He waited a moment. “And the six-letter term for a group of crows is a murder.”

 

S
HAY WIPED THE DARK WOOD
of the long bar that ran across the back of O'Connor's and stared moodily out at the crowded pub. Sunday brunch at O'Connor's was a Newport tradition. People came at noon with their newspapers and sat down to an Irish breakfast, or a Sunday lunch of roast beef and potatoes. All morning he'd been pouring Bloody Marys, Irish coffees and ale to go with it.

Keeping his hands busy hadn't kept his mind off of his behavior the night before, though. Memories of his colossal blunder still paraded through his head. He liked to think of himself as intelligent, as respectable, as deliberate.

Instead he'd found himself in the middle of an x-rated clinch in the basement of a local bar with a woman whose name he hadn't even known. A woman who just happened to be the person he was supposed to be there to watch out for.

It hadn't helped that he'd talked with Dev that morning, blindingly conscious of the fact that he'd gone where no man should ever go with a buddy's sister. That thought had almost drowned out the fusillade of questions. “How is the bar? How's the traffic? What is she up to? Is it legal?” Dev's voice, first filled with anxiety, was then overlaid with relief that Shay was looking out for things. “Is she getting herself in trouble? Is she doing a good job?”

Not nearly as good as the job she almost did on me, Dev old boy.
Shay threw his bar rag into the sink with sudden violence. If there was a feeling more unpleasant than that of letting down a friend, he didn't know what it was. It was rare that he did anything he was sorry for. Maybe he was living too quietly, though, given that the previous night he'd been ready
enough to walk into a bar and try to take one of the employees in the basement. No matter how much said employee might have encouraged it, ultimately, he was the one to blame.

“A bleak face you've got yourself there, Shay,” Fiona said, setting her tray on the bar. “You best watch out, or you'll send all these nice, thirsty brunchers running for the door. Two Harp and a Guinness, by the way.”

He started the Guinness and put a second glass under the ale tap.

“What's put you under such a black cloud, then?” she asked, taking no notice of the fact that he obviously didn't want to chat.

“What?” He gave her an absent look.

“Why are you in such a mood?” She studied him with a little frown of concern.

“Just galloping regrets.” He gave a shrug, setting the first Bass on her tray. “No big deal.”

“Ah,” she said as though sliding into familiar territory. “Regrets for something you did or for something you didn't do?”

He finished the second ale. “Something I did.”

“That's the best sort to have, if you're having them at all. Better to be sorry that you got out and lived than sorry that you never took the chance, if you get my meaning.”

“Turning into a philosopher, Fee?” Colin asked as he walked up behind her to tug on her long red braid before ducking under the walkthrough into the bar.

“I believe I was talking with your brother, not your troublesome self,” she said tartly.

“I don't believe in regrets,” Colin said, ignoring her comment. “There's no point in them. You can
learn from mistakes, but it's everything you've done that's made you who you are, so it's sort of pointless to be sorry for any of it.”

“Now who's turning into a philosopher,” Fiona jibed, raising a brow at him. “Are you after putting that into a song?”

Colin stared at her a moment and his eyes lit up. “Now there's an idea.” He seized a napkin and scratched out a few lines then looked up. “So what's all this talk of regrets? Did you try to get a job as a dancing girl and get turned down?”

Fiona gave him a frosty look. “I'm regretting that I wound up getting a job here with a man who devils me all the time, that's what I'm regretting.”

“Oh, you'd miss it if I didn't devil you, Fee,” Colin said with a crooked grin.

“Has your brother always had such an imagination, Shay?” Fiona asked, picking up her laden tray and walking away with a toss of her head.

“You shouldn't tease her so much,” Shay said, watching her go.

“What?” Colin wrinkled his brow. “It's just joking around. She can handle it.”

“She's an employee, Colin.”

“Yeah, right. So what's put you in such a good mood? Did you have a few too many at the bar last night and wake up in bed with a looker whose name you couldn't remember?” He tied on his apron. “How was the new bar, anyway? I was thinking I might stop in and check it out.”

But Shay didn't answer. He was staring at the door and the woman who'd just walked in.

Or stalked, more accurately, like a tiger after prey.
Fury shouted from every rigid line of her body. Two spots of color burned high on her cheeks.

When he'd been lying in his bed the night before, searching for the sleep that refused to come, he'd told himself that she couldn't be as beautiful as he remembered. He'd told himself that her smooth, flawless skin, her haunting cheekbones were just tricks of the light. Her mouth couldn't have been such a delectable curve of humor and sensuality.

He'd been wrong.

He'd been wrong in so many ways, he thought in irritation, fighting to push down the memory of the heat of her body against him. A face and luscious body alone weren't justification enough to make a man toss aside the habits of a lifetime. He'd had no business putting his hands on her, whether she was Dev's sister or not. The fact that she actually happened to be Dev's sister just made it all the worse. That morning on the phone, he'd done his best to duck out of any further involvement, but Dev wouldn't hear of it.

“She's my sister, man. I'm asking you, just keep an eye on her, keep her from getting too far out on a limb. I'd do it for you,” he'd wheedled, and Shay had relented, knowing Dev spoke the truth. Now, as Shay watched Mallory come toward him, he felt that unholy clutch in his gut that had him thinking once, only, and always of sex. But the night before had been the end of it. Dev's sister was off-limits.

Period.

Mallory approached where he stood by the walkthrough, her stare unwavering as she came to a stop in front of him.

“Hello,” he offered.

Her face was unsmiling, unpainted, and as gorgeous
as he'd ever seen on a living, breathing woman. “I'd say it's time we introduced ourselves. Mallory Carson,” she said without extending her hand.