Nightfall (3 page)

“Selene Torres,” she said. “I came in from the road for a
drink. And I didn’t say it was okay for you to touch me yet. Let go.”

Yet?
It was funny how a man could latch on to one
word like a steer’s horns and let the beast drag him right off the cliff. But
she wasn’t being coy. She had the same set to her mouth she’d had when she’d
dealt with Howie and his potential punching bag. She wasn’t intimidated by the
difference in their sizes or Quinn’s tone of voice. Appearances certainly were
deceiving.

Selene. A beautiful name to go with a fascinating woman. She
affected him, no question. Though he loosened his hold, he didn’t let go,
wanting to see what she’d do about it. He craved her response to a challenge,
enough that his need for it made him uneasy.

A blink later, he discovered she could call enough fire in her
eyes for someone twice her size, but the heat of it was something he’d
willingly embrace.

“Don’t test me right now,” she said. “We can discuss that
later.”

She removed her hand from his grasp with a deft twist that
surprised him with the subtle torque. Almost as much as how she reversed it,
her fingers now resting on his forearm, her index finger making a light pass
over his wrist bones before she took that distracting touch away.

“Your skin is sun drenched,” she observed, gaze sliding over
the tanned expanse of his face, his throat, back down to his arms, revealed by
his rolled-up shirt sleeves. “But…” She wet a finger, giving him a quick
glimpse of the tip of her tongue before she rubbed the pad of that forefinger
over his wrist. “You have an ink mark there.”

Quinn stared down at the crown of her head. He wanted her.
Not like a buckle bunny, a quick fuck against the wall, though he could easily
see that happening. He wanted her in so many ways it was like a crazy film reel
shooting images through his head so fast he couldn’t list all the things she
was making him want.

“Hey, Quinn.” One of the men seated at the bar called down
to him. “Don’t take her head off. In ten minutes, she’s run this place better
than that asshole you just threw out ever did. And she’s a damn sight better to
look at.”

Agreement traveled down the bar like the wave at a sporting
event, but Quinn’s attention remained glued to her. When she lifted her gaze
again, she didn’t break eye contact. Out of all the captivating things about
this woman, that was what he kept noticing the most. No blinking, no wavering.
It was the most direct stare he’d ever experienced, as if she could do it for
hours without twitching. There was an odd stillness to her. Funny how he’d
never noticed how much people moved even when they didn’t seem to move. But she
didn’t.

Her thumb stayed pressed over the small spot of his skin
tingling from her moist care while the rest of her fingers wrapped around his
wrist, holding him. As she tightened that grip, he had a sudden vision of
himself on his knees, lifting both hands to her as she ran a rope in figure
eights around his wrists, over and over.

The thought startled him so much, he almost pulled away from
her. He’d never had a single woman in his bed he would have let tie him up. He
thought of his earlier discontent with former lovers, how they’d almost seemed
too compliant. In this woman’s eyes, he saw so many fantasies he’d never
pursued, but which had drifted in his subconscious, permeating early morning
erotic dreams he pushed away at dawn. With her, he wanted to bring them to
life, and it scared the shit out of him.

Fuck, he was in a bunch of trouble here.
Focus on the
bar, asshole. Stay away from anything else.

“We should talk,” he said. “Will you stay until closing?”

During the bated moment before she answered, he found
himself trying to understand why he anticipated her answer so much. Leaning in,
she braced herself on his chest once more, lifting up onto her toes so she
could put her nose close to the pocket of his throat. The current between them
was electric as she inhaled, her breath caressing his skin through the open
collar of his shirt.

“Sun drenched,” she murmured again. “Yes, Quinn. I’ll stay
until closing.”

Sliding down his body as she put her heels back on solid
ground, she turned away and left him.

He helped out, ostensibly to watch her like a hawk for the
remaining couple of hours until closing. But he would have watched her anyway,
and he wasn’t alone. Male and female patrons alike seemed awestruck by Selene.
She took over the mixed drinks and had Maria running the beer tap, bussing
tables and ferrying the drinks to the floor. Selene also stayed on top of the food
orders, keeping the tickets organized and clear for Manuel, the cook in back.

She was so efficient she even worked in a little
entertainment, putting together a new drink that she finished with the flame
flourish of an atomizer Quinn didn’t know they had. “Gives it a woodsmoke
taste,” she told the fascinated patrons, offering them a provocative wink. “Who
wants one? Show of hands. Ten bucks each.”

Hands shot in the air, and she lined up her glasses, serving
out nearly a dozen of them in a handful of minutes, complete with the deft
bottle spins most of them had only seen in the snazzy city theme bars or that
old Tom Cruise movie. She was graceful and swift, no wasted motion.

Everything about her said there was no way in hell he could
afford her.

But she’d agreed to meet with him at the end of the night,
and he wouldn’t let go of that, no matter how pointless it might be, or that he
couldn’t explain to himself why he needed to hold onto her as long as he could.
All he knew was it was the first time in a while he’d felt something real when
he looked at a woman. And she’d looked back.

Though on the surface she never seemed out of control, he
had a good bit of time while watching her to rewind, go back over everything
he’d noticed about her. She might have knocked him off his axis, but he was
rallying, taking her measure the way she’d obviously taken his. Earlier she’d
seemed more tightly wound and watchful. As she interacted with the bar patrons,
he got the sense she genuinely enjoyed this, that it eased up things inside
her. It gave her eyes a sparkle, her smile more relaxed. She went from flat-out
beautiful to something even more approachable, something a man wanted to be
near.

Earlier what he saw had been something he’d want to fuck,
and that was dangerous enough. What he saw now was even more perilous. The kind
of woman he wanted to be curled around at night, whose scent he wanted in his
bed, on his skin. He’d cherish the small sounds as she shifted and murmured,
the grazing touch of her fingers as she curled her hand over his forearm,
pressed under her breasts as he spooned with her.

She’d probably consider that quaint, the dumb cowboy in the
middle of nowhere with his apple pie and grow-old-with-me ideas of marriage and
a relationship. It wasn’t like he was going to share such nonsense with her
though. No matter the vibe she gave off, he knew she wasn’t that type. He might
give the idea of fucking her a really good shot though.

Of course, he might crap out and turn into a pumpkin before
then. When it was clear she and Maria had things in hand, he’d taken a seat at
the table she’d vacated earlier. He’d put one booted foot up on the opposite
chair, bracing the other on the floor as he crossed his arms over his chest,
and just enjoyed the show. While it was the first time he’d been able to do
that since he’d taken over the saloon, the day’s ranch demands had apparently
caught up with him.

He roused at a hand on his shoulder. Lifting his head, he
blinked blearily at Maria, who gave him an uncertain smile. “Mr. Pedraza, it’s
past closing time. Selene said Manuel can walk me out to my car if you don’t
have anything else for us tonight. She split all the bar tips with us. Said we
deserved it.”

Well, look at Maria, practically glowing with a sense of
self-accomplishment, not a shallow, care-about-nothing-but-herself kid after
all. He was too used to dealing with the more straightforward temperament of
ranch hands, obviously.

“Yeah.” Clearing his throat, he straightened, rubbing at his
face. “You all did a hell of a job tonight. Good job.”

She glowed like a firefly. Manuel, standing behind her,
nodded and smiled as well. He looked far less frazzled than Quinn had ever seen
him. Guilt tinged his gut as he realized the kind of firefight being between
him and Artie these past few months had probably been. “I hope she can stay,”
the cook said in a low voice, tilting his head to the bar. “She’s good, Mr.
Pedraza.”

“Yeah she is.” Probably way too good for After Dark. Maybe
for Quinn too.

It wasn’t like him to feel unsure about himself around
women, off balance. But wasn’t that part of the problem he’d been having with
women lately? Always feeling like there were no surprises? That they were just
too accepting of everything he was and wanted, letting him set all the terms?
But wasn’t that what a man was supposed to do, women wanting the whole
take-charge, alpha thing?

Maria and Manuel left, carrying the last bags of trash with
them, something Quinn had been having to do himself at the end of the night. As
he got his ass off the chair, Selene was coming out of the kitchen, clean bar
rag in hand, which she folded and placed on the counter. Everything might be
beat up, run down, but it was all cleaner than he’d seen it left at closing
since he’d taken ownership. Hell, how long had he been asleep?

A glance at the clock showed him two hours past closing
time. Fucking hell. He really was worn out.

She came around the bar, leaned against it, the cling of her
shirt outlining her breasts nicely as she propped an elbow on the counter and
laced her fingers beneath them. “So, Quinn Pedraza. Owner of this saloon and
the Last Chance Ranch. Good name. Your choice?”

“No. But I liked it.” So she’d been finding out things about
him while he’d been visiting the sandman. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.
She excelled at being unreadable, as if she’d spent a long time practicing a
poker face. It was a trait of card players, con artists and people who knew the
wrong expression could cost them more than they could afford to lose. It was
also something people learned to do to cope with the deeper emotions beneath
the surface, as if the expression was a dam on emotions too strong to let bust
loose.

He knew about strong emotions like that. So much of his
childhood and teen years had been chaos. Though he’d been raised on a ranch, he
actually hadn’t been able to get past the noise to appreciate it, to realize
there was a quiet to be found there, in the land. When he finally had figured
that out—thanks in large part to Sam’s first appearance in his life—he’d decided
he wanted to own his own ranch more than anything.

It had taken his years on the rodeo circuit to secure the
Last Chance at a bargain price. In the five years since he’d taken it over,
he’d worked his ass off building it up, making it a profitable operation again.
Only about fifteen hundred of the five thousand acres were actually useable,
but the rest of it gave him the privacy he craved, that he hadn’t been able to
experience during his childhood or on the frenzied rodeo circuit.

From how much of his time was spent in the middle of this
disaster, no one would guess how much he wanted that solitude. But here after
closing, just her and him, he embraced that sense of being the only folks
around. It was the first time he’d had that experience here. Usually he felt a
huge weight bearing down on him the minute he crossed the threshold.

The quiet wasn’t at odds with the strong sexual heat he felt
for her. Not at all.

“Perhaps you should think of selling this place,” she said.

“I would if I had a buyer. Believe me. If I just close it
up, all these people won’t have a place to hang out. We’re the only game in
town.”

“Well.” As she studied him, he had the uncomfortable feeling
she saw through the partial lie. “It seems to me you have to make some kind of
decision or it will be made for you.”

“I suppose you think you’re the answer to fixing my problems
here?”

“I know I am. The question is whether you’re the answer to
what I’m seeking.”

It was a strange way to put it. But he rose. “Why don’t we
go to my office and talk about that?”

When she nodded, he gestured to her to precede him toward
the office hallway. She pushed off the bar and came toward him, filling his
nose with her essence again, that aroma of soothing coolness and primitive
earth. He had to restrain himself from pouncing on her right then and there. He
bet her taste would be delicious and her body would be—

Stop it, you jackass. What in the world is going on here?

When she brushed past him, his body jerked at the contact.
He hadn’t done that before, but they hadn’t been alone before. He slid a glance
at her but she didn’t seem to notice his reaction. Or have one of her own.

“Sit down,” he said brusquely when they reached his office,
more order than request. That appeared to be the only way he could keep control
of the situation.

“Please,” she told him.

“Excuse me?”

“Sit down,
please,
” she repeated with exaggerated
patience.

“Please.” He gritted out the word. Why did she seem to think
she could give
him
orders? Or rather, why did it feel like he was waiting
for her to do just that?

Seating herself in the small chair beside the desk, she
crossed her legs. Then she released the tie she’d put on her hair while she was
working the bar. Shaking out the golden shimmer of locks brought him a wave of
her provocative scent. His gaze latched on to the curve of her hip, the way her
buttock pressed into the chair. He could scoop one hand under that firm cheek,
put the other hand at her waist and lift her right off her feet. Let her hook
her legs around him, slide her down inch by inch along his bare body. She’d
feel so damn good against him, all that cool pale skin.

Tease. That was the word that came to mind. Not the only
one, but he was going to have to shut down his mind and put his cock in a coma
if he wanted to get through this conversation. Looking at her conjured up all
kinds of images. Her naked on his bed. Her golden hair spread out around her.
Perfect round breasts with rosy nipples begging for his mouth. Legs spread wide
so he could feast on her pussy. Would she be shaved or have golden down between
her legs? He didn’t care as long as slick pink lips tasting of her honey
waited.

If he didn’t stop this soon he’d have to step outside and
take himself in hand.

“Listen.” He shifted in front of the desk, allowing his big
body to take up most of the small space. It was a tactic he’d used to good
advantage in dealing with anyone trying to intimidate him. “I don’t know who
the hell you are, but my trust isn’t the best anymore. You came here, took over
my bar—”

She rose right up in front of him. “I didn’t take it over.”
Putting that same finger against his chest, he was surprised to find the
pressure strong enough to back him into his desk so he had to sit his ass down
on the edge of it or let the digit shish-ke-bob a vital organ. That put her
standing solidly between his spread thighs, and put them close to eye level,
though he still had some height on her. He caught her wrist in self-defense,
though he didn’t remove the finger from his chest.

Leaving her wrist in his grasp, she let her gaze course over
him in that intimate way, like she was already seeing him sprawled in her bed.
That ride was going two ways, for sure.

“I simply kept it from imploding tonight,” she said
conversationally. “You want me to take it over, I can make you money and give
you time to sleep. You’re running the ranch during the day and working this
place at night. You’re plowing yourself into the ground and doing a half-assed
job at both.”

“Thanks for the news flash. I have a mother already.”

“I hope you don’t look at your mother the way you’re looking
at me now.”

He surged up off the desk. She gave way gracefully but
stayed close. Way too close. “Quit showing off your body. That won’t work with
me.”

The look in her eyes told him she didn’t believe a word of
what he said. “I think you have bigger problems than my body.”

Still in control. She’d been holding the reins from the
first, and it didn’t annoy him the way it should. Instead, it gave him an odd
mix of panic and arousal. He needed to act like a boss. The guy in charge.

“You think being a wiseass is the best way to prove to me
how good a bar manager you’d be?”

“If the past few hours didn’t prove that, you’re not as
smart as I assumed you are.”

He stared at her then shook his head. His chuckle seemed to
surprise her. “Ah, fuck me. Whatever. Let’s try this again.” He gestured her
back into the guest chair. “Sorry, I should have dusted that off first. I don’t
know the last time it was used. Okay, Miss Know-It-All. Tell me what else you
saw tonight that will help me run my place better. Impress me.”

She already had, but apparently that was a gift that was
about to keep giving. She reclaimed her seat with that sensual flow of motion,
crossed her legs again. “As I said earlier, your bartenders are over-pouring,
probably costing you about fifty percent of your potential drink profits a
night, above and beyond what Artie was stealing. Yes, you only offer bar food
so that you don’t compete with the two restaurants in town, but there’s no
reason for it to be drowning in old grease and coming out with no presentation.
I can help with that.

“You have presentation problems at the bar too. Your
good-quality spirits are hiding in the well instead of placed on the shelving
behind it. There’s no lighting to really draw people that way either. You could
add a fresh coat of paint and some regional decorations that would give the
place an inexpensive facelift until you can afford something snazzier. You’re
nearly out of basics like bar napkins and vodka, and that can be fixed by
proper supply management.”