The office door slammed shut and ‘Summer of 69’ dwindled to a dull murmur. I leaned back on the door, resisting the urge to gently bang my head against it.

What the hell had I been thinking?

The guy at the bar had been hot, sure. Really hot. And he was clearly into me. Fine. But when I’d made this agreement with Farrah, one of my main stipulations was that it wasn’t going to be somewhere in public where there were going to be consequences. Nice going, Cat.

I sighed, unclenching my fists. Maybe he wasn’t going to come back. Maybe I wouldn’t see him again, or he’d come in on nights when I was busy running the bar, and I wouldn’t have to talk to him. In an infinite universe, there were a whole raft of possible futures which didn’t end up with me having to admit to what I’d just done.

What made me abandon all common sense, and just kiss him right there, in the middle of my own damn bar? It wasn’t even like he was Mr. Thoughtful; he was a jerk who clearly assumed that I wasn’t the owner—because the owner was obviously going to be a man—and I was just a bartender.

Okay, he was a surprised jerk when I suddenly kissed him, but he warmed to the idea pretty darn quick; I could feel his stubble against my cheek, and after a moment’s hesitation, feel the demanding way in which he pulled me into him. …the taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on my waist, the idea that he wanted me so much he’d just push me back against the wall like that…

I shook my head to try and clear it.

Sure, it had been a thrill; maybe Farrah had had a point. But it wasn’t like I was going to make a habit of kissing every guy—every extremely hot guy—who came into the bar.

A rapping on the door made me jump. “Just a minute.” What if he was still there when I went back down? Looking around for something to take downstairs so it looked like I hadn’t just run away, I grabbed a paperweight off my desk.

“You in there, babe?” Farrah’s voice came through the door.

“Yep, hold on. What’s up?” I looked at the paperweight. No, this is completely stupid. Why would I go upstairs for a paperweight?

Farrah coughed. “Uh, you want to open the door, or are we going to keep talking through it?” A giggle. “Or, are you naked in there?”

I jumped. “No, I’m not naked. Of course I’m not. Why would I be—” Quit now, before you give her ideas. Taking a deep breath, I grasped the handle and opened the door.

Farrah walked in, dressed in a stunning blue dress that fit very, very, closely, and silver heels that must have nearly killed her getting up the creaky Wunderbar stairs. “Are you okay? You had me worried for a minute there. It’s pretty busy down there, and I think Bob kinda needs your help.”

I nodded vigorously, anxious not to give Farrah any ideas. Once my friend got it into her head that something was going on, she would dig and dig, and no amount of stonewalling would stop her from uncovering the truth, or at least unearthing something juicy. “S—sure. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“You sure you’re okay? You look flushed.”

Damn right I’m flushed, I thought. I’ve never kissed a guy like that before, without even thinking about it, and wanted him to—I stopped myself, noticing the expression on Farrah’s face. “Yep, I’m fine, honest. Just came upstairs to get something, but it’s, uh, it’s not here. C’mon, let’s head back down.”

Farrah’s eyes lit up. “Hey, guess what? You know we were talking about your extinct love life last week? Weeelllll, you’ll never know your luck; Just as I was coming in, I saw a super-hot guy leaving. He opened the door for me on his way out. Did you see him?”

Oh, yeah, I saw him. In a manner of speaking. “Uh, maybe. I don’t know.”

Farrah crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. “You don’t know if you saw this guy? Believe me, you’d know. He looked like some kind of construction worker, or maybe a pro athlete.” She smacked her lips. “Pretty delicious.”

“Delicious.” I repeated the words. “Yeah, okay.”

I will tell Farrah about this, I told myself. Just not right now. My emotions swirled in my head, and—if I were being completely honest with myself—further south too. It had been a long time since a guy had made me feel quite that breathless all over.

Farrah looked at me suspiciously. “You must have seen him. He was in the bar, so unless you’ve suddenly developed a blind spot as far as hot customers are concerned, you wouldn’t miss him. Mind you,” she put one hand to her head in a woe-is-me gesture, “maybe you have developed a blind spot for hot customers.”

“Haha! Aha! Ha! Maybe I have!” I seized on the opportunity to change the subject. “Come on, I’m needed back downstairs. What the hell are you doing here anyway?”

“May is having a sleepover, so I told myself I was gonna come and hang out with my number-one girlfriend. Which is you. Even if you have to work, I can still keep you company.”

I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Faz. It’s pretty busy tonight, but just make yourself comfortable.”

“Comfortable? I’m gonna be working the crowd, honey; trying to get them to buy Foxworthy Vineyard product. This is a business trip.”

“Do you really need to do that? It’s a Monday, and my customers have enough to deal with just getting through the week, without being savaged by Hurricane Faz.”

“It’s for their own good. I’ve seen those stomachs, and there’s only one thing for it; more red wine, fewer pints of beer. C’mon, your public needs you.”

As I walked back down the stairs in front of Farrah, I was torn between being disappointed the guy had left—sheesh, I didn’t even know his name—and relieved, for the same reason.

Looking out across the crowded bar, I busied myself pulling pints, tidying up the broken glass from the accident earlier that had invariably found its way everywhere, and chatting to customers. I tried to forget the tall, cocky stranger who looked at me with a hungry expression, as if I was the only thing in the bar worth looking at.

I tried to forget the force with which he pulled me into him, and most of all I tried to forget how I kissed him back.

It was just a one-off, I told myself.

Next time that guy comes in—if he does—it’s strictly business. He’s hot, but he said he wasn’t staying.

Nothing to worry about.

Boy, Farrah will laugh about this. When I tell her.