Mitch flung out one hand, knocking his bottle off balance. Only quick reflexes saved Lindsay from a beer bath. Dont want another job! Want my job. Youre just like the others at Pipers. You just want me gone.
Lindsay gave a sigh and sat down across from the man, who looked like he was working himself up to full hissyfit status. Mitch. She took his hand in hers, squeezing hard enough to get his attention. You know thats not true. I want to help you. Why dont you go home and go to bed. You can call me tomorrow and well talk about your options, okay?
He looked pathetically hopeful. I can call you?
She wondered if hed ever heard a female issue that invitation before. Judging from his reaction, probably not. Well talk about the job, she emphasized. The last thing she wanted was to shift his bubbling emotions from his unemployment woes to her. Heres my number. She found a pen and scrap of paper in her purse, and scribbled the cell number shed given out to few others.
She pushed it across the table toward him. But you really need to go home now and sleep it off. This place is full of policemen. She doubted that could make him as nervous as it did her. The Blue Lagoon was primarily a cop bar, although its location near Pipers meant some of the restaurant workers were regulars, as well. You dont need any trouble.
Given the fact that most of the occupants in the bar were probably as loaded as Mitch, she might be overplaying that card, but he accepted the number and her words with alacrity.
Youre right. Ill go. He lurched upward before hed slid to the end of the booth and nearly toppled face-first onto the tabletop. Lindsay got out and helped him to his feet, gently guiding him toward the door.
You comin, too? He swayed, nearly knocking both of them into a harried-looking waitress.
No, well talk tomorrow, remember? She opened the door for him, ushered him through it. Im supposed to be meeting friends here. On the spot she made a commitment to stay; it was better than the alternative. Grab a cab and get home safely. Talk to you soon.
Before he could muster an answer she withdrew into the noisy bar and shut the door after her. The string of mistletoe hung limply above her, a possible omen of her evening ahead. Certainly it hadnt begun too auspiciously.
Lindsay began to thread her way between tables, looking for Jolie and Dace. The shock of having a pair of cops as friends was secondary to having made friends in Metro City at all. She was usually careful to avoid relationships. It was easier to move on when she wasnt leaving behind anyone she cared about.
And shed been getting that itchy feeling lately. The one that told her it would soon be time to choose another city. Another job. Another life.
Jolie caught sight of her first and stood, waving her over to a table near the back of the bar. Lindsay felt something inside her lighten. Maybe for tonight she would forget that itchy feeling, and the reason for it. Forget her nonexistent love life, violent past and hopeless future. Spending time with her two favorite people would be the high point of her week.
But when she drew closer to the table and saw a third person seated there, she mentally readjusted her expectations downward. What was drunk Santa doing at their table, and how long before they could get rid of him?
About time you got here, Jolie scolded cheerfully. I was about to send Dace to your place to get you.
I got hung up at work. She exchanged hugs with her two friends.
Dace gave her a quick once-over and grinned as he reseated himself. You clean up good. Not that the filthy apron and Pipers chefs hat arent attractive.
Jolie gave him a quick elbow jab. You look great.
What she looked like in the buttoned-up white shirt and black gauchos, Lindsay knew, was a constipated librarian. She didnt care. Her thrill-seeking days were behind her. And she realized the importance of dressing the part of whatever identity shed donned for the moment.
With an innocent expression that Lindsay immediately distrusted, Jolie gestured to the stranger and said, And this shirtless wretch is Jack Langley. Ive mentioned him to you, remember?
Lindsay narrowed a look at her friend. Make that exfriend. This was Jack Langley? The buddy of Daces that Jolie had mentioned several times wanting her to meet?
Drunk SantaJackpicked up her hand and sent a caressing thumb skating across her knuckles. A lock of his black hair had escaped from beneath the fur-trimmed Santa hat and fallen rakishly over his forehead. His devil-dark eyes and lopsided grin were guaranteed to melt the coldest of female hearts. Lindsays remained steely.
Jolie continued, And this is Lindsay Bradford. Jack, behave. Im going to get Lindsay a drink. Cmon, Dace.
Dace looked confused. Why do I have to come? Jolie grabbed his arm and he stood, long-sufferingly, to trail behind his fiancée.
Ill bet youre a good girl, Lindsay. Jake raked her with his liquid-coal gaze and a corner of his mouth kicked up. His smile deepened the dimple in his chin. You look like one. Luckily for you, I still have something in my package for good little girls.
Her brows rose at the transparent euphemism. But then he reached into a paper bag on the table and withdrew a handful of gifts, setting his offerings in front of her.
She surveyed the slightly wilted fruit slices and paper umbrellas with a jaundiced look before transferring her attention back to him. This reminds me. I have a few Christmas disappointments I want to discuss with you. Lets start with that lame Barbie you brought me when Id specifically asked for a G.I. Joe.
He slapped a hand to his chest, feigning shock. Those damn elves. They must have mislabeled the package. Thats it. Danny the dyslexic elf is getting the ax.
She didnt smile, because it would only encourage him. Your elves told me working for you is a lot like working in an office. They do all the work and the fat guy in the suit gets all the credit.
He looked amused. And he still hadnt relinquished her hand, despite her discreet tugs. Half a suit. Half the credit. And theyre just smearing my name because they want to unionize. He lowered his voice, and the sexy timbre sent a quick shiver over her nerve endings. So how about we compare notes before Dace and Jolie get back? Ill tell you what they told me about you if you do the same.
That stopped her short. Theyve talked about me to you? She wasnt sure she liked the sound of that.
Attractive, even though she plays it down, straitlaced, needs to loosen up a little, good sense of humor, mean at cards, he recited rapidly. Your turn.
Im not sure I remember them mentioning you, she lied. Are you the one who spent time in prison?
He gave a loud bark of laughter as Dace and Jolie approached the table again. Mean, and not only at cards. I like that.
She finally succeeded in wresting her hand free. And found herself curling her fingers into her palm, trapping the heat that lingered. I have a feeling, Langley, that your likes would fill several dozen little black books.
Jolie set a bottle of Corona in front of Lindsay and sat down again next to Dace. Jack shot the other man a look. Dont know what you told her about me, but shes got the totally wrong impression.