Unless it was a holiday weekend or the height of tourist season, Mondays at the tavern were normally slow so Reese closed and used the time to catch up on errands and the never-ending paperwork that was part of owning his own business. There were always books to be balanced, supplies to be ordered, staff schedules to be juggled and phone calls to be returned. While it was not his favorite part of self-employment, he simply accepted it as a necessary evil, cranked up his favorite Jonny Lang CD and settled down at his desk with a gallon of coffee.
He’d been at it for two hours, and he’d accomplished zip.
All because his mind kept wandering to a completely irascible, highly frustrating, extremely uptight female.
Coffee mug in hand, he leaned back in his desk chair and swiveled around to stare out his office window at the garden he’d had restored after renovating the tavern and inn. In the spring and summer the plants were thick and lush, the flowers a brilliant splash of color, but now, in the fall, the foliage had been cut back and only a few hardy chrysanthemums and asters still bloomed. While Jonny’s gravelly voice wailed about lies and sex, Reese watched a bumblebee explore one budding branch of Winter Heath and, for the hundredth time, his mind drifted to Sydney.
After only one day the situation had already gotten out of hand. When he’d gone to the employee’s lounge yesterday, he’d had every intention of putting an end to this farce. She’d looked so tired sitting on the couch with her head back and her eyes closed. So guileless. Soft and serene.
Quiet.
He smiled at that thought. He’d certainly never admit it to anyone, but he was not only getting used to that sass of hers, he actually enjoyed it. She said what was on her mind, and even though he didn’t always like it, he had to at least respect her honesty. She didn’t use her femininity to get her way or manipulate. No games of seduction or flirtation. No pouting or sulking. Even when she’d had to wipe down tables or sweep up a spilled bottle of catsup, she simply applied herself to the task without hesitation.
Somehow he’d never pictured Sydney Taylor doing anything as menial as taking drink orders or clearing dishes. She’d been born with a silver spoon in that enticing mouth of hers, and he doubted she’d ever lifted a finger for anything more strenuous than a manicure.
But she certainly had yesterday morning. She’d run her cute little behind off and never once complained. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn she’d actually enjoyed working. Other than those damn tablecloths and the admonishment she’d given George Hubbel for ordering the double pork sausage skillet breakfast with extra cheese—George had just been released from the hospital following a triple bypass—the morning had gone by great.
Then she’d just had to go and get all snooty on him again. Implying the tavern lacked “sophistication.” It was a tavern, for crying out loud. Not Antoines. If he let her have her way, she probably would have put out finger bowls and chilled salad forks. To Reese, chilled salad forks were the epitome of nothingness.
So he’d been compelled to continue their little parody. Just for another day or two, he told himself. That ought to be long enough to make Sydney Taylor throw in the towel.
He was a man with a plan.
Smiling, he took a sip of coffee, watching as the bumblebee stumbled out of the Winter Heath like a drunken sailor, then flew off. Sydney just needed a little instruction on how to relax and not be so serious all the time, Reese told himself. Not to be so high-and-mighty.
To think he’d almost kissed her. He snorted at the thought, then frowned.
He still wanted to kiss her.
Dammit, what was it about the woman that had him thinking about her when he needed to be working? He’d never thought about Sydney like that before. Never noticed how smooth her skin was, or how soft the blue of her eyes was, how incredibly tantalizing her mouth was. And when she’d stepped between his legs and moved so close, her breasts only inches away from him, he could have simply leaned forward and—
“Yo, Reese, you in here?”
He jumped at the sound of Lucian’s voice, swore when coffee spilled over the sides of the cup in his hand and stained the front of the blue denim shirt he had on. He was still swearing as Lucian plopped himself down in a chair on the opposite side of the desk.
When Reese swiveled his chair around, Lucian took in the wet spot on his brother’s shirt and lifted his brow. “Been drinking long?”
Reese narrowed his eyes. “Been sneaking up on people long?”
“I didn’t sneak. You were in a galaxy far, far away, or at least your mind was.” Lucian stretched his long legs out in front of him and settled back comfortably. “So what’s her name?”
“Whose name?” Reese swiped at the front of his shirt, rummaged through the paperwork on his desk looking for a napkin, found one underneath his quarterly federal tax form.
“Whoever you were lusting over when I came in. I know the look, Bro. So who is it? Susan Williams? I heard she and Larry split up.”
“They split up once a week. I’m trying to work here, Lucian. Get lost.”
Undaunted, Lucian dug in like a dog after a bone. “It’s Nancy Turlow, isn’t it? She came into the tavern last Saturday with Heather and couldn’t take her eyes off you.”
Reese clenched his jaw, then picked up a pencil and turned his attention back to the ledger on his desk. “If the construction business is so slow you’ve got nothing better to do than sit around and speculate on my love life,” he said dryly, “I’ve got some cracked tile in one of the guest rooms. Work me up an estimate and get back to me tomorrow.”
“Gosh, thanks,” Lucian said flatly. “As soon as we finish the strip mall we’re building over in Ridgeway, then the four-story office building in Angel City, I’ll get right on that. But for the record, I am here on business. I’m looking for Sydney.”
“Sydney?” His head came up. “What do you want with Sydney?”
“Gabe asked me to stop by her place and take measurements on the countertop she ordered from him. She wasn’t there, so I thought she might be here.”
“Do you see her here?”
“Nope. But since you won her in that poker game, I just thought—”
“I didn’t win her, dammit.” Reese pushed away from his desk and stalked to the window. He stared out into the garden, frowned at the sight of Boomer sunning himself on the soft leaves of a lamb’s ear plant. He shook his head, then sighed. “How the hell was I to know that she really knew how to play poker?”
Lucian stared thoughtfully at his brother for a long time, then slowly raised his brows. “You cheated.”
“What?” Reese turned sharply.
“You cheated.” Lucian leaned back in his chair. “I know you, Bro. You can call a good bluff, but you can’t lie to me. It’s right there in your eyes. You cheated.”
Reese shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “She was winning. And she was so damn smug about it. She just needed to be taken down a peg or two.”
“And you, of course, were the man to do it?”
He shrugged. “I never expected her to go through with it. It was…a joke.”
“Doesn’t look like you’re laughing,” Lucian noted.
“I tried to call it off, especially yesterday, after she’d worked so hard here at the tavern. I was even going to confess. Then she stuck that pretty little nose of hers up in the air again and for some reason, I just couldn’t let it go.”
Lucian chuckled softly. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s lust in your eyes, Bro. Who would have ever believed you’d be hot for Sydney?”
Reese made a rude sound. “Even coming from you, Lucian, that’s about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I am not remotely interested in Sydney that way.”
Reese’s head went up at a sound from the hallway outside his office, then he relaxed when Marilyn, one of his night-shift waitresses poked her head in the door and smiled. “Hey, boss, can I pick up my check now?” Her gaze slid to Lucian and her smile turned provocative. “Hi, Lucian.”
“Hey, Mar.” Lucian easily slipped into charm mode. “What’s up?”
Reese found the woman’s paycheck on his desk while she and Lucian bantered back and forth, then quickly hustled her out.
“Look, I know I got carried away.” Reese dragged a hand through his hair. “And believe me, I’m paying for it big time. But as far as there being anything between Sydney and me, that’s just completely—”
“Knock, knock. Little sister’s here.”
Reese groaned as Cara came waltzing into his office, her pink skirt swirling around her legs and her arms loaded with shopping bags. He might as well have a revolving door on his office the way people were coming in and out.
“What about Sydney?” Cara asked.
“Reese has a thing for her.” Lucian rose, took the bags from his sister’s arms.
Cara hesitated, looked at Reese. “You have a thing for Sydney?”
Why the hell couldn’t he have been an only child? he thought irritably. “I do not have a thing for Sydney,” he snapped. “Doesn’t anyone in my family work anymore?”
“Not on Mondays.” Cara brushed her blond hair back with her fingers and sat in the chair Lucian had occupied. She’d once been a private investigator, but now she ran a women’s shelter in Philadelphia founded by her husband’s grandmother. “I brought decorations for the surprise party we’re throwing here for Gabe and Melanie on Saturday.”
“What surprise party?” Since it was off the subject of Sydney, Reese eagerly pursued his sister’s announcement.
“We never celebrated their engagement, so Abby and I thought we’d give them a surprise dinner party here.” Cara slipped her flats off her feet and frowned at her swollen feet. “Good Heavens, at this rate, my feet will be the size of shoe boxes by the time this baby’s born.”
“They’re getting married in a month,” Lucian said, setting her bags down beside the desk. “What do they need a party for now?”
“Men.” Cara sighed and shook her head. “Of course we have to give them a party.”
Confused, Reese and Lucian looked at each other and shrugged.
“Just family.” Cara stretched her feet and wiggled her toes. “Something nice, but not fancy. I’ll work up a menu with Corky.”
“Work up a menu?” Reese frowned. “What’s wrong with the menu I’ve already got?”
“There’s nothing wrong with your menu,” Cara said with all the patience of a kindergarten teacher. “Abby and I just think we should do something special. Now what’s this about you and Sydney?”
Reese groaned silently. He should have known she’d come back around to the one subject he didn’t want to talk about. “There is nothing about me and Sydney. She’s just…helping out here while I’m shorthanded. We explained all that yesterday. I tried to let her out of the agreement, but she’s stubborn as a mule.”
“Honorable is a better word,” Cara said and stared at him thoughtfully. “And if you had lost this bet you’d made, then what?”
Dammit, Reese fumed. Big families were like small towns, only worse. They wanted to know every little teeny tiny detail of their sibling’s life, whether it was their business or not. But it was one thing for Lucian to know that he’d cheated in the poker game with Sydney, and quite another if his sister found out. She’d have him drawn and quartered.
Well, she didn’t need to find out. No one needed to find out, for that matter. Lucian might razz him endlessly in private, but he wouldn’t tell Cara or anyone else, Reese was certain of that.
He just needed to act casual. Nonchalant. He picked up his pencil and entered gibberish in one of the columns. “I would have had to lock Boomer up so he’d stop digging up her flowers.”
“What kind of a deal is that?” Cara stared at him in amazement. “You should keep him fenced in anyway, deal or no deal.” Cara shook her head. “Sydney’s smarter than to bet something as simple as that. What are you holding back, Reese?”
He kept his eyes glued to the page in front of him as if it were a fascinating novel. “I’d have to work at her place for two weeks,” he mumbled quickly.
Now it was Lucian and Cara’s turn to stare at each other in wide-eyed amazement. When they both began to laugh, Reese slammed his pencil down. “What’s so damn funny?”
“You—” Lucian’s shoulders were shaking “—you work for Sydney Taylor in her French restaurant? I’d eat a whole plate of those slimy little cooked snails to see that.”
“How ’bout you eat my fist instead?” Reese rose stiffly and glared at his brother.
“No violence in the presence of a pregnant lady,” Cara warned, struggling to contain her mirth. “Now, Reese, you’ve got to admit it, if you’d lost, it would have been pretty funny.”
Yeah, gut-splitting, he thought and sat back down in a huff. “Why don’t you both take a hike? I’ve got better things to do than sit around thinking about Sydney all day.”
Cara went still, and even Lucian stopped laughing long enough to stare at him. “Thinking about Sydney?” Cara asked, raising her brow.
Dammit, dammit. “Talking. I said talking.”
“No, you didn’t. You said thinking,” Lucian said. “Well, well. So you and Sydney do have a thing for each other.”
“I do not have a thing for Sydney,” he boomed.
“Of course he doesn’t.”
All heads turned at the sound of Sydney’s voice coming from the doorway. She stood there, wearing a simple white silk, scoop-necked blouse and a calf-length, dark blue silk skirt. There was a long moment of strained silence as Sydney’s ice-blue eyes met Reese’s, then she moved as gracefully across the room as if she were performing Swan Lake.
“Hey, Syd.” Lucian cleared his throat. “Ah, I was looking for you.”
She turned those incredible eyes on Lucian. “Oh?”
“Yeah, ah, Gabe asked me to take some measurements for the countertop you ordered.”
She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “You can leave them inside when you’re finished. I have a duplicate set.”
Grasping at the opportunity to escape, Lucian snatched up the keys. “Well, I’ll just get to those measurements, then.”
“Could you give me a hand with these packages, Lucian?” Cara quickly slipped her shoes back on and stood. “Just leave the two blue bags. They’re for the party. Nice to see you again, Sydney,” Cara said as she and Lucian moved toward the door. “Please give my best to your grandfather, will you?”
“Certainly.” Sydney kept her gaze directly on Reese.
Cowards. Reese frowned after his brother and sister when they disappeared from the room. When he wanted them to leave they wouldn’t. Now he wanted them to stay and they couldn’t get out of here fast enough.
“Hey, Syd.” He turned his attention to the woman who stood watching him, her arms folded primly across her chest. Unknowingly, the gesture lifted and pressed her breasts firmly upward. Don’t think about her breasts, he told himself, but the more he told himself not to think about them, and certainly not to look, the more he wanted to.
“Where in the world would Lucian get such a preposterous idea that either one of us would have a thing for the other?” Sydney asked.
“Didn’t you know that Lucian was dropped on his head when he was a baby?” Reese said easily and slipped back into his desk chair.
“Is that so?” She arched one delicate brow.
“God’s truth.” He raised his hand to emphasize the veracity of his statement. At the same time, he forced his gaze to stay steady with hers, but it felt like a fish on the end of a line, tugging and pulling, trying to draw his attention down to the neckline of her blouse. “My parents thought about an institution when it became apparent there was permanent damage, but since he wasn’t dangerous, they kept him at home.”
“Every Sinclair man is dangerous,” Sydney said, shaking her head. “You should all come with a warning label that says you’re hazardous to the female sex.”
“I love it when you talk dirty,” Reese said huskily. And even though he was teasing, the sudden image of pillow talk with Sydney did make his pulse race.
Keep your eyes on her face, he repeated over and over, though he desperately wanted to slide a long, slow look over those lovely breasts, then down her silk-covered slender hips. What was she wearing underneath? he wondered, then gave himself a mental shake and decided he was the one with brain damage.
“Reese Sinclair.” Sydney shook her head and sighed. “Can’t you be serious for even one minute? It’s ludicrous to think that you would have feelings for me or that I would have feelings for you that were of a physical nature. I just don’t want your family getting the wrong idea about us.”
Her words had snob written all over them, Reese thought with annoyance. And just why was it so ludicrous for her to have any feelings for him that were of a “physical nature”? What the hell was wrong with him? She was the one walking around as if she had too much starch in her collar.
Just once, he’d like to shake that ivory tower she lived in. He stood slowly, moved toward her with intent. “What’s wrong with physical, Syd? I happen to like physical. In fact, I’m feeling extremely physical at this very moment.”
“I hear lifting weights is quite an effective release of energy.”
“There are other ways to release energy that are a lot more enjoyable,” he murmured, moving closer. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and though he had no intention of this going anywhere, the jolt of desire that shot to his groin obviously had a mind of its own.
“Tennis is an excellent form of exercise,” she suggested.
Wary, Sydney watched Reese approach, but refused to back away. Refused to think about those large hands of his, that long, muscular body and broad shoulders. She forced herself to think about a brandy sauce she’d been experimenting with, if it had enough butter, maybe a little less brown sugar. Vanilla, she decided, she’d add a little extra vanilla.
“Never could really get into the game myself.” Reese moved past her and closed the office door.
Sydney’s insides immediately formed a conga line from her head to her toes. “Is that so?” she said, forcing a bored tone to her voice, when she was anything but.
He smiled, then came up behind her, touched the back of her neck with his fingertip. “I prefer contact sports myself. Something that works the circulatory system and strengthens muscle tone. Something that really gets the heart pumping.”
Her heart was pumping furiously. It was one thing to exchange verbal banter with him, but this was something entirely different. Something much more…sensual. She knew that Reese was teasing her, and as much as it aggravated her, it also excited her.
He wanted her to put a stop to his nonsense, expected her to. This was a game to Reese, she realized. He was certain she would yell “uncle” first. He was counting on it. He wasn’t interested in her that way. And she, of course, wasn’t interested in him that way, either.
Well, he started it, she thought with annoyance. Let him be the one to finish it. In spite of herself, she shivered when he slid the tip of his finger over the bare skin on her neck.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a pretty neck? And hair, too.” Her breath caught when he moved behind her and brought his mouth closer to her ear. “Do you ever let your hair down, Syd?”
The warmth of his breath on her neck and ear sent ripples of pleasure over her skin. Every warning system screamed at her to run, to get away as fast as she could, but she knew that was what he wanted. He’d know then that he’d won, that he was irresistible to even cold-as-ice Sydney Taylor. And if that ego of his got any bigger, Reese Sinclair wouldn’t even be able to walk through a doorway.
“Of course I let my hair down,” she said calmly, ignoring the dull, heavy thud of her heart against her ribs. “When I wash it, before I go to bed, when I go to the beauty salon for a trim, or there’s this wonderful oil pack that—”
“I’d like to see it,” he said, skimming two fingertips up her neck.
Sydney realized she wasn’t breathing and forced herself to draw in air. “Well, if you really want to. It’s highly irregular, but I’m sure I could arrange it with my stylist. They pour about a cup of hot oil over wet hair, put a shower cap on your head, then stick you under the dryer for about—”
“Your hair down, Syd,” he interrupted. “I’d like to see you let your hair down.”
She’d had no idea how sensitive the skin on her neck was. Reese’s touch was light as a feather, yet it packed the punch of a boxer. As ridiculous as it seemed, her knees were actually weak, her pulse was racing and she felt…hot. Very hot.
“Do you mean that figuratively, or literally?” she asked, then winced at the breathless sound she heard in her voice.
“Both.” He moved closer still, brought his mouth within a whisper of her ear. She shuddered, was furious that she couldn’t stop it and that Reese must have seen, too.
What made her even more furious was that she liked it. What he was doing to her, the way she felt. She liked it a lot. Wanted him to keep doing exactly what he was doing, wanted to keep feeling exactly as she was feeling.
She struggled to breathe, struggled to remain composed and collected when she really wanted to run. Into his arms or for the door, she wasn’t sure which. But if he kept looking at her the way he was, if he kept touching her, she was going to find out real soon.
A knock at the door made her jump.
“Delivery.” The door opened, and a young man with bleached white hair and double nose rings stuck his head in. “Hey, Reese, you wanna show me where you want all these bags?”
Reese gave Sydney one short, intense look, then brushed past her and followed the other man into the tavern. The breath she’d been holding shuddered out and she stumbled over to the desk to steady herself. That was close. Much too close. She’d nearly thrown herself in his arms and begged him to kiss her. Talk about pathetic, she thought with disgust. If she wanted to kiss anybody, it should be that delivery man for interrupting.
But just once, she thought, just once she wished a man would say things like that to her, that she had pretty hair or a nice neck, and he would mean them. Really mean them. It wouldn’t be a game, like with Reese, or a lie, like Bobby. Just once she wished someone would say sweet things to her and it would be sincere.
She sighed, then drew in a long, slow breath and followed Reese out into the tavern. He was signing for the delivery and joking with the young man—Jessie—about the multitude of piercings on his body.
Sydney waited for the deliveryman to leave, then cautiously made her way toward Reese, who was staring intently at a four-foot-high pile of large produce bags.
Maybe she should try to get along with him, she thought. There was no reason for the two of them to argue or constantly snipe at each other. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should let her hair down, just a little.
What if maybe, just maybe, he had actually felt something when he’d been teasing her?
She moved beside him, ready to be pleasant and agreeable, even if it killed her. He turned when he saw her, looked at her with an expression that could only be described as sheer joy.
She smiled back and relaxed a little. “Reese—”
“Ah, there you are,” he said, grinning. “This might take a while, so you better get started.”
“Take a while?” she repeated dumbly.
He slapped a hand on top of the bags. “I thought it was a great idea you had, sort of give the tavern a rustic ambiance.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” She stared at him in confusion, then looked at the bags under his hand.
Peanuts. Bags and bags of peanuts. Hundreds and thousands of peanuts.
“You can start shelling these for the floor and throw the nuts into a container. We’ll serve them at the bar.”
She stared at him, blinked. “This is a joke, right?”
“No joke,” he said easily. Gone was the dangerous, sexual predator she’d nearly thrown herself at. Frivolous, life-is-a-game Reese Sinclair was back.
“You really expect me to shell all these nuts? By hand?”
“Don’t know any other way to do it, and since it was your idea, I figured you’d want to be in charge.”
What a fool she’d been to let her guard down with this man! An idiot. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. Folding her arms, she lifted her chin and pointed it at him. “This isn’t nearly enough peanuts to evenly distribute and create the proper illusion of ‘rustic’ as you called it. If you’re going to do something, Reese, you should at least do it right.”
He cocked one brow and gave her his most charming smile. “Well, Syd, I’m sure I can trust you to handle this project all on your own. You have carte blanche, sweetheart, and since you’re only here three hours, I suggest you get started right away. This is a whole lotta nuts.”
Whistling, he snatched up his truck keys from the bar counter, then left her in the tavern, alone.
Sydney hurried across the tavern and stared out the front window, watched Reese get into his truck and drive off.
The nerve of him! It would take her hours to shell all these nuts. Days. She knew that wasn’t really what he wanted. He was making a point here, hoping she’d back down. Give up. Throw in the towel.
Well, Sydney Taylor didn’t give up. Not by a long shot.
Across the street, she saw Lucian come out of the front door of her building and head back toward the tavern. He stopped in the parking lot to talk to Jessie the Peanut Boy, who was standing inside the back of his delivery truck, moving bags of peanuts.
She watched the two men for a moment, then glanced back over her shoulder at the mountain of nuts she’d been left to shell.
A smile spread slowly across her face.
Shoulders squared, chin up, she went out to the parking lot.