Something to Prove

She watched the man clean glasses like he was giving a woman a rubdown. Who knew soapy water could be so sexy? When he came by again, drying his hands on a towel, his brows furrowed.

“Something wrong with the coffee?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I just decided that I’ve had a enough caffeine and this wasn’t going to help me relax.”

He took the cup, dumped the contents into the sink, and returned with a glass of red wine. “Try this.”

She sipped and the rich flavor rolled across her tongue. Much better than coffee, but far from the expensive bottles her mother had gotten her used to. This was more like fresh-from-college-living-on-a-budget wine.

“Good?” he asked.

“It is. Thanks.”

He walked away again. This time she noticed the way his jeans stretched across his ass. Very good. As if he felt her ogling, he spun around.

The obnoxious blush that always ruined her ability to hide anything rose again. She cleared her throat. “Where’s the washroom?”

He pointed toward the back. She took one big gulp of her wine and slid from the stool. She knew exactly where the washroom was. She remembered from her last visit, but she hoped the question covered her irrational behavior.

She hadn’t been so struck by a guy since college. Even then it was Janie and Lori who drew guys in. It’s not that she was the ugly friend; on the contrary, she knew she was pretty, but she was also clumsy around guys. Spilling drinks and tripping on her own feet had been staples of her dating life.

In the bathroom she used the facilities and washed her hands. She felt a pleasant buzz hum through her bloodstream. She couldn’t figure out, though, if it was the bartender’s flirtation or the alcohol causing it.

The thought of his proposition warmed more than her blood. Her girlie parts started to tingle.

Oh, God. It had been way too long if she started thinking about girlie parts. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her life was pretty screwed up. She was in over her head working on a project that she didn’t know how to fix. Her father wouldn’t consider her as his replacement. Her brother . . . well, she hadn’t known what to think of Keith for years.

She deserved a night of fun. The bartender was right. For tonight, she’d abandon thoughts of CEO and IP and focus on having a good time.

She went back to the bar and ordered another glass of wine. This time, she’d take it slow so she wouldn’t be drunk. It would be just her luck to have a guy willing to take her to bed and then she’d be too drunk to enjoy it.

Other customers filed out slowly. The lone waitress wiped down tables.

“Can I get you anything else?” the bartender asked. “It’s last call.”

“No, I’m good with this.” She shot a look over her shoulder to make sure the waitress couldn’t hear. “About what you said before . . .”

He froze, reading her expression, and then leaned in against the bar. “What?”

“I think you’re right. A night away from the chaos would do me good. Does your offer still stand?” She smiled enough for it to be an invitation.

The silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity, and she started to believe she’d imagined the entire conversation. Maybe he hadn’t really been flirting with her. Maybe she had just wanted him to.

He shifted closer, slowly, almost unnoticeably. But then the smile slid across his face, brightening his navy eyes, and she knew she hadn’t imagined any of it.

“You mean my offer for stress reduction?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper. It was a bedroom voice if she’d ever heard one.

Oh, yeah. She nodded, not trusting that words would come from her mouth. A moan was poised at the back of her throat seeking a reason for escape.

Without looking away from her eyes, he called out, “Hey, Jenna, you can go on home. I’ll close up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He broke eye contact then and pointed over his shoulder as he addressed Elizabeth. “I need to finish up a few things.”

The waitress called out a good-bye and he followed her to lock the front door. He dimmed the lights, and Elizabeth spun her stool to continue watching.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She hadn’t had anonymous sex in almost a decade. The thought gave her pause. Those one-night stands had been far from great. She’d been young and too timid to ask for what she wanted or needed in bed.

She watched this man move across the room efficiently and purposefully. Lust tugged low in her belly and hormones surged.

He stalked toward her, sure in his movements. He probably did this all the time. She’d seen women smiling at him across the bar. Flirting was no different from small talk for him. She hoped he bought condoms by the case because she didn’t even have one.

“Second thoughts?” he asked.

“No.”

He stepped closer, nudging her knees apart. The heat from his body brushed her thighs, and she wanted to pull him into her.

“Maybe we should at least exchange names. I’m—”

Elizabeth quickly put a finger on his lips to stop him. “No names.”

Names would complicate their time together. No names meant no future, no way to track each other, just pleasurable anonymity.

His tongue darted out and wet her finger. He lowered his head, and her heart beat so loud she was sure he’d hear it. Lips made contact and the moan she’d withheld bubbled back up. His fingers skimmed down the side of her body sending shivers through her.

He took his time licking and nibbling across her jaw and down her neck. There was way too much fabric between them.

She pulled back. “Let’s get out of here. You said you live close?”

“Right upstairs.”

He stepped away and she hopped off the stool. She immediately lost her balance. Not now, not again. She hadn’t felt a bit of nervousness this time and clumsiness still struck.

“Whoa.” He reached out and grabbed her elbow to steady her.

She felt like a ten-year-old wearing her mother’s heels for the first time. She straightened and ran a hand down her skirt. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He didn’t answer, but took a moment to study her face. She smiled and nudged him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Which way out?” God was she starting to sound desperate?

“You look a little drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. Not even two glasses of wine. Who gets drunk off two glasses?” She spread her arm out and promptly knocked over the glass she’d left on the bar. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

She grabbed the towel he’d left on the counter and began to mop up the small puddle.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His hand landed on her shoulder. “Maybe I should call you a cab.”

She spun quickly, rag in hand, to tell him no. Unfortunately, she misjudged how close he stood to her. The wine-soaked rag squished against his shirt.

His eyes darted north the way most men’s did to control their anger, but he looked like he was attempting to control laughter.

Great. Now he was laughing at her. Blood rushed to her head from anger instead of lust. “I am not drunk.”

He crossed his arms and continued to study her as if he were a visual Breathalyzer.

The moment was gone. The lust she’d felt dissipated. Embarrassment replaced passion. “This was a mistake.”

She pushed past him and made her way to the door.

“Wait.”

Elizabeth didn’t. She unlocked the door and rush-walked to her car. She would’ve run, but she was afraid she’d fall on her face. She knew alcohol had nothing to do with it, but she had no way to convince him.

Once, just once, she’d like to have an encounter with a man that didn’t involve her damaging property or causing bodily harm. She’d been a clumsy child, but after her father had found success, her mother had sent her to every dance class imaginable. Her mom figured dance would give Elizabeth the grace she so desperately needed. It didn’t have the desired effect, not totally, anyway. Elizabeth had learned to dance, but her clumsiness had stayed. It reared its ugly head every time she moved too fast or felt nervous.

Intimacy with a man made her nervous. Good-nervous, but still. Once they really started she was fine, but getting there was the problem.

She thought back to the sexy bartender. She’d been so close to getting there with him. He wasn’t the first guy to think she was drunk. That was the main reason she tried not to meet men in bars. Her clumsiness usually made them think she’d had too much to drink.

Being spontaneous didn’t work for her. If she’d planned ahead, if she psyched herself up for a one-night stand, she would’ve fared better.

Elizabeth drove back to her hotel alone. Back to the drawing board. Maybe a good night’s sleep would give her the relaxation she needed.

Yeah, that’ll be so much better than a round of hot, sweaty sex.

Elizabeth had been in town for a week and she felt buried. IP wasn’t just in the red, it bled profusely. She was desperate to turn this bar around, and her self-imposed deadline to make some kind of improvement was bearing down on her.

Two days had passed since almost having sex with a stranger. She knew how Keith and her father normally approached a job, but this one was so different, she thought she’d tackle it with a new method, one she prayed she wouldn’t regret. Armed with the bit of research she could drag up, she entered O’Leary’s Pub again before she lost her nerve.

She’d never tried a move so bold, and she wasn’t sure she could pull it off. But it felt right.

She stood at the bar and waited to get the attention of the bartender. Of course, it would have to be the sexy one who’d offered her plenty of distraction and left her disappointed. She’d hoped that since it was early afternoon, he wouldn’t be here.

The bar was slow, the only customers being a couple of old men at the end of the bar nursing their beers and watching a baseball game.

With a towel slung over his shoulder, the bartender approached, smile at the ready. Then his eyes focused on her, recognition changing his expression. “Hi.”

She shoved unpleasant memories from her mind and pasted on her business smile and said, “Hi, I’m looking for Mr. O’Leary.”

He slapped the towel against the bar. “You found him.”

Oh, Christ. Why couldn’t she catch a break? How was she supposed to negotiate with a guy who turned her on with a simple look?

She cleared her throat. “Mr. O’Leary, I’m Elizabeth Brannigan, and I have a proposition for you.”

He leaned his forearms on the bar and lowered his voice. “As good as the proposition I made the other night?”

Although his jaw had been smooth the other night, it looked like he hadn’t shaved since. His scruffiness added to his sex appeal, and she tried to block it. Her ears burned, and she wished she hadn’t pulled her hair back. Before she could respond and make her intentions clear, a petite blonde sped around the corner.

“Hey, Colin, there’s a problem in the kitchen.”

Elizabeth straightened. “Colin? You’re not Ryan O’Leary?”

Colin pressed his lips together. “Nope.” He stuck a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s in the back office.”

She clenched her teeth and turned on her heel, anger burning in her chest. She’d done her homework. Why didn’t she know there was a brother?

“A word of warning. He won’t be as receptive to a proposition as I would, given he has a wife and a baby on the way.” He tossed a grin over his shoulder as he headed into the kitchen.

She strode toward the office, practicing her speech again. She could do this. It was different from their usual approach. Keith would normally hire an all-new staff and then send her in to supervise them. Maybe it was because her dad had kept the bar for a dozen years and never said anything.

She wanted to make this work, not pay someone else to do it.

She knocked on the office door and waited.

“Come in.”

She swung the door open into a small but tidy office. Of course, it was bigger than the one she’d been trying to work in. A leather couch sat in the corner and a huge oak desk dominated the other end of the room. The man behind the desk was a dead ringer for Colin. Even if she had known there was a brother, she could see where one could easily be mistaken for the other.

She cleared her throat and began her speech again. “Mr. O’Leary, I’m Elizabeth Brannigan, and I have a business proposition for you.”

He stood and his eyebrows quirked up. He gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “I’m not really looking to expand.”

She took a seat, putting her briefcase at her feet. “I own a bar that is in desperate need of an overhaul. I’ve done research on the bars in the area, and yours is the most successful and closest to what I’m trying to build.”

Sitting behind the desk, he steepled his fingers in front of his face. “You want me to help you build up my competition?”

“I’m not in direct competition with you. I would make it in your interest to help me succeed. I’m offering you a percentage of profits and a bonus when I sell.” She’d spent hours running numbers to put together an attractive package. She laid the proposal in front of him. Even if she failed, which she wouldn’t, she would be able to pay him from her own savings.

“I’ll admit, it’s an intriguing offer, but I have too much on my plate right now. I’m already running two bars and I’m about to become a father.”

Her heart sank. “I wouldn’t need you to run the bar. You would be more like a consultant. I’m in new territory with this business and could use some guidance from someone who’s been there.”

“Sorry. If you had caught me last year, I’d be all over this. I just don’t have the time right now to devote to another business.”

She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. “I understand your position. Here’s my card.” She slid it onto the desk. “Give me a call if you change your mind.”

She stood, willing her hand not to shake as she extended it. She’d known this was a long shot, and she really didn’t like to lose. If Keith caught wind of this, he’d never let her hear the end of it. He’d call it good-natured teasing, but she’d end up grinding her teeth.

Ryan O’Leary shook her hand and she knew he wouldn’t be calling her. Well, she’d tried. Now she’d go back to what had always worked in the past. She’d start making calls to people she knew. Someone would send a man her way who could do the job.

Moments after Elizabeth had left, Colin walked into the office, dying to hear her proposition. “What did Legs want?”

“Huh?” Ryan looked up from the computer screen.

“Long legs, power suit. Had a proposition?”

“Oh. Her name is Elizabeth Brannigan.”

“I heard her name when she introduced herself, but she’s a lot of leg. What was the proposition?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. It was business. I just Googled her. Her father is some big investor in resorts in Florida. He buys them when they’re run-down and fixes them.”

“What does that have to do with you?”

“She bought a bar and wants help.”

“And?”

“I told her no. I don’t have time to add another business. Although, now that I’m looking at the money and power behind her dad . . . the profit might be worth it.”

“I’ll do it.” The words left his mouth before he thought clearly about what he was suggesting.

“What?”

“Give me the information. I’ll work with her.”

Ryan shook his head. “She’s not looking for a bed-buddy. She needs a business partner.”

Colin’s shoulders tightened. “I can do that. You just said that it would be profitable. Something like that would give me the money I need to open my own place.”

Anger flashed in Ryan’s eyes. “So much for being here. It hasn’t even been a week since you swore you weren’t going anywhere. That I could count on you.”

Guilt sank into Colin. It was a feeling he knew too well. “You run two bars and have for a long time. It’s a fact you’ve been shoving in my face for a year now. I can do what you do. I’m not an idiot.”

They stared at each other like they had as children, each thinking he knew best, each knowing they worked better together than apart.

“Whatever.” Ryan flung a business card at him. “Do what you want. That’s something you excel at.”

Colin scooped up the card and tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll be at the bar if you need anything.”

Ryan answered with a grunt. He’d get over it. At least Colin was pretty sure he would. He was ready for this. If that meant he had to prove it to Ryan first, he would.

Back at the bar, he pulled the card out. Elizabeth Brannigan, VP Brannigan Enterprises. Hmmm . . . VP explained the power suits she always wore. Also explained the stick up her ass when she’d introduced herself.

Completely different from the woman who was pliant and moaning in his arms. He knew he’d made the right choice by not sleeping with her. If he was going to get into bed with her, she was damn well going to be sober enough to remember it.

And enjoy it.

On the back of the card, neatly printed, Sheraton Hotel Higgins. Now he knew where to track her down.

Stick up her ass or not, Colin could make this happen. He’d help her make the bar a success, they’d sell with a nice profit, maybe have a little fun on the side, and then go their separate ways. How hard could it be?

Elizabeth sat in the conference room of the hotel and sipped from the glass of lukewarm water in front of her. She’d met with eight different men, each attempting to astound her with their business acumen. They all held MBAs and explained how they would increase profits and decrease loss.

She didn’t like any of them. Profit-and-loss statements she understood. She didn’t need help with that. Something else was missing, and she didn’t even know the right questions to ask. Normally in this situation, she’d call Keith. Doing so now, though, would tip her hand. She still wasn’t ready to let him know her plan.

She didn’t know how long her vacation charade would last, but she hoped long enough to prove she was on the right track with the bar.

When a soft knock sounded at the door, she cringed before answering. She wasn’t ready for Mr. MBA-Number-Nine, but she sighed and called, “Come in.”

The door opened and Colin O’Leary strode into the room, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and looking utterly delicious. She choked on her latest drink of water.

“Whoa. Are you all right?”

She cleared her throat and carefully sipped more water. “Fine, thank you. What can I do for you, Mr. O’Leary?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched and he said, “My dad’s Mr. O’Leary. Call me Colin. And it’s what I can do for you.”

Her mind flashed to about ten different things that she’d like him do for her, and she felt heat creeping up her neck. She forced out, “What could that possibly be?”

“My brother said you were looking for a business partner. I’m here to apply for the job.”

She looked him up and down. “That’s how you show up for a job interview?”

He spread his arms wide and glanced down at his body. “A job at a bar? Yes. I didn’t think this was so much a formal interview as a business negotiation.”

Nothing like a bit of arrogance in the morning.

“Exactly why would I be negotiating with you?”

“Because I can help you turn your bar around.”

She crossed her arms on the table and waited.

“I passed by the suits waiting out there. I’m assuming they’re here for you. What bar needs more suits to run it? You need someone who knows people. If you don’t have customers, you don’t have a business.”

“I’m aware of that.” But he definitely held her attention.

“I’ll admit that running the books isn’t my strong suit. Ryan has always been better at that. But I grew up in a bar. I understand people. You’ve been to O’Leary’s, different days, different times. I understand now that you were using us for research. You obviously liked what you found.”

In so many ways. “It’s a very successful bar.”

“It’s successful because people keep coming back.”

“And you’re telling me that you’re the reason for that?”

“I’m part of the reason. It’s the whole thing. It’s atmosphere. I can help create that.”

He was onto something. He was the first man to walk through the door who had offered her what she wanted. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure he could deliver. In the time since Ryan turned her down, she had done more digging. She was surprised at how much information people from the neighborhood had given her about the O’Leary brothers. The father founded the bar and Colin ran the bar for a while, but disappeared for years after his father died. She was sure there was more to that story, but no one seemed to have it. Everyone agreed, though, that Colin was the go-to man for a good time. Men and women alike all appeared to have a genuine fondness for him.

She could see why. But she and Colin had unresolved . . . issues.

“Tell me about the bar you bought,” he said as he lowered himself into the seat across from her.

She slid a folder to him, the same one she had forwarded to all the other candidates.

He flipped it open and a bark of laughter shot from his mouth. “You bought The Irish?”

“No. Yes.” His laughter flustered her, making her feel like she was mentally unstable for owning this particular bar.

He closed the folder. “Which is it? Do you or don’t you own the bar?”

She cleared her throat. “I do. I personally didn’t buy it; my father bought it twelve years ago.”

“That explains a lot.”

“What?”

“Ryan told me you’re from Florida. Why would your father buy a bar in Chicago when he’s not around to run it?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

“You didn’t ask him?”

“You don’t have to worry about the reasons for ownership.”

He closed the folder without reading anything she’d provided. “The Irish used to be a profitable bar. When the original owner died, things fell apart. Something like five owners came and went in as many years.”

“I already know this. It’s a matter of record. What would you do to change what it is now?”

“You have to close it and change everything. It’s a total dive right now because that’s what it’s turned into. If you want it to be something different, you need to start from scratch so the current clientele won’t want to return.”

She’d been thinking the same thing. Closing the doors after the brawl had been a good idea. “When was the last time you were in there?”

“Years. But I don’t need to go there to know what it is. Everyone in the area knows that The Irish is where you go if you want a brawl. The drunker and meaner, the better.” He leaned back in the chair and forced it to recline. His long legs extended under the table, and she had a flash of those legs between hers. He looked smug as if she wouldn’t be able to turn him down.

“You don’t have the business management experience or education the other candidates have.”

He smiled. “Neither does my brother, but you went to him.”

“Like the saying goes, the proof is in the pudding. He’s a success. Just because you share a branch of the family tree doesn’t guarantee me anything.”

“But you’ve seen me with people.” He thunked the chair back down on all four legs. “I was good with you.”

Between his intense blue eyes and his low bedroom voice, his words warmed her blood again.

“And that would be another reason to not work with you. I don’t have time for someone who’s more interested in flirting than working.”

“Sweetheart, you flirted with me. I took your cues and acted on them. I’m completely capable of working with a partner without sleeping with her.”

Part of Elizabeth felt relief at his statement. More of her felt another sting of disappointment.

His steely blue gaze bore into her. No sign of lust. Nothing to imply that he planned to kiss her again. Not even a hint of sexual attraction. If they pretended that night had never happened, a partnership could work.

She steadied herself for a strong negotiation. “I’ll offer you twenty-five percent profits and a bonus twenty percent when I sell, assuming you hold up your end of the bargain and bring in the customers. I remain the manager and boss and all decisions go through me.”

“Make it forty percent profits and thirty percent on sale.”

“You bring personality to the table. No proven experience, and you expect me to give you almost half the business?” She leaned back in her chair.

“My personality is the one thing you need most. It can’t be taught or bought.”

“Thirty profits and twenty-five at sale.”

He narrowed his eyes as if computing, then leaned forward. “Deal.”

“One more thing. No flirting. Just business.”

He sighed like she was being insufferable. “Contrary to popular belief, I am capable of being professional. When do we start?”

“It’s locked up, so we can start tomorrow. I’ll have the contract drawn up for you to sign when you get there. Nine a.m.?”

“I’m closing at O’Leary’s tonight. Make it eleven. Even I need my beauty sleep.”

“You plan to continue to work at O’Leary’s?”

“It’s my family’s bar.”

“I’m not a simpleton. There are only so many hours in a day. I won’t have you thinking you can drop by The Irish just to collect a check.”

His smile was disarming. “Sweetheart, simple isn’t what anyone would call you. I’ll prove my worth soon enough. Seems a lot of people expect that.” He rose and extended his hand. “I’ll sign your contract, but a handshake will do for me.”

She shook his hand and tried to ignore its strength and warmth and the zing of her nerves. As he turned to leave, she enjoyed the view and immediately began to question her sanity. She’d just created a business partnership based on a man’s charm. What the hell was she thinking?