‘So you’re telling me you actually kissed this guy?’. Farrah was beside herself with glee as we walked toward the farmers’ market. It was a fine day, and the mid-morning sun was warming after a heavy shower last night.

“Well, yeah. Sort of.” I’d finally steeled myself to spill the beans to Farrah, and her reaction was exactly as I feared; a shriek of glee, followed by relentless questioning about the precise details of an event that made my cheeks color every time she recalled it.

“Sort of?” Farrah’s tone was acerbic. “You don’t sort of kiss a hot guy in the middle of your place of work, honey. At least I don’t.” She thought briefly. “Not that I’ve had the opportunity. Maybe if they weren’t all elderly businessmen and grasping entrepreneurs, it’d be a more appealing idea. Huh.”

“Okay, okay. He kissed me, and I kissed him back.” And I did a bit more than that. My face burned as I recalled not only that I’d kissed him, I’d pressed myself against him, hard, and felt the substantial bulge in his pants. Damn, that was really hot. I tried to shake the feeling of his arms around me, demanding, hungry in his desire, but it wouldn’t leave me, making me clammy and flushed at the same time when I thought about it.

“Where?”

I kept my face expressionless. “On the lips.”

“Not where on you, dummy.” Farrah swatted me lightly with her voluminous handbag. “Where in the bar? What did Bob say? What did the customers say? What did—”

“It was near the foot of the stairs, in the little alcove coming back from the bathroom, you know? Nobody saw it, so nobody said anything. And that, Madam, is how I would like it to stay, if it please you. So no blabbing, okay?”

Farrah narrowed her eyes. “Would I do that? Would I tell people that my best friend, my sensible Cat Milsom, went around kissing the customers on a whim?”

“Yeah.” I jabbed her in the ribs. “Yeah, you totally would. So don’t. As far as I’m concerned, it was a one-off. I’m not,” I paused, remembering the feel of his mouth on mine, and the brief seconds where I wondered what it would be like to be naked with him, with that mouth on me in every possible place, “saying it wasn’t enjoyable, but—”

“Mmmm-hmmm, you got that right. I saw the guy on the way out, remember? Damn!” Farrah was unrepentant.

“BUT,” I continued sternly, “it was a one-time occurrence, never to be repeated, okay?”

The farmer’s market was held in a park in the middle of town, every Tuesday morning. A children’s playground stood off to the side, and we could hear whoops and shrieks of joy even at this distance.

“Well, okay. What happens if you run into this guy again? Oh, what are we here to get, anyway?”

“Just vegetables for the week from Cheryl.” Cheryl Collis, Jack’s wife, was a keen smallholder, and reliably offered the best produce in town. She also grew champion vegetables; giant carrots, pumpkins the size of wheelbarrows, and marrows like tree-trunks.

How she did this was a closely guarded secret, and I preferred not to think too closely about it, lest my sleep be plagued by dreams of genetically modified horror-vegetables.

“Stop dodging my question. What about the guy?” Farrah gripped her bag tightly, and fished in it for her coin-purse. “Man, I need a cup of coffee. It’s too early in the morning to be in a field in these heels.”

“The guy, as you call him, said he wasn’t staying in town long.” I drew in a breath. “Soooo, if I see him again, I’ll be polite and friendly, but that’s it. No need to be standoffish.”

A bark of laughter from Farrah. “It’s a bit late for that, sure.”

“But, I’m not doing anything like that ever again. You are a bad influence, Foxworthy.”

Farrah curtseyed, not an easy job on grass in stiletto heels. “At your service, Milsom.”

Before getting to the vegetable stall, we browsed the craft tables, looking for bits and pieces, and enjoying the morning sunshine. Farrah bought a little butterfly brooch for May, and I looked for a scarf. I was trying one on in front of a mirror, when I heard a deep voice behind me.

“The gray one would go better with your eyes.” A shiver went up my spine.

Was it him? Oh damn. It’s him alright.

I couldn’t mistake his voice. For a minute, I stood frozen, contemplating just not turning around, and pretending I hadn’t heard. Arms reached around from behind me, removing the scarf, and wrapping another one across my collarbone, and around my neck. “See what I mean?”

I took a deep breath and turned. He stood in front of me, one hand in his pocket, the other one on his chin in a gesture of evaluation. God, those eyes, deep and dark. Those eyes I remembered from the bar, half-amused, then full of desire in the close, dark space. Half of me wanted to see that look again, and the other half would have quite happily had the earth open up and swallow me right now.

There was a moment’s silence as we looked at each other, broken by—I should have known—Farrah.

“He’s right, Cat. The gray is better.”

Dammit. I exhaled, still fixated on the man in front of me. “H-hi.” Still tall, broad-shouldered and gorgeous. Damn, damn, damn. Now is really not the time.

He smiled broadly and extended a hand. “I’m sorry, I’m forgetting my manners. My name is Ryan. I didn’t catch yours when we…met…the other night.”

“Cat. And this,”—a jab in the ribs prompted a sudden gesture toward my friend—”is Farrah.”

“It’s great to meet you both.” His voice was rich and deep, self-assured and friendly. Part of me started to think that maybe I didn’t feel so awkward after all.

“Hey, honey,” Farrah was beside me. “I need to go and see a guy. About a thing. In fact, there he is, just over there.” She gestured behind her in a magnificently nonspecific manner. “I’d better go right away so I don’t miss him. I’ll catch you later. Ryan, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Before I could protest, she’d wobbled swiftly into the crowd.

Left with nothing else to do, I looked him up and down. Tall and lean, he was dressed in the same leather jacket and faded jeans he was wearing last night. A white t-shirt under the jeans left me in no doubt about his figure; muscled like a gymnast, I thought. Maybe he is an athlete.

Ryan waited patiently while I looked at him, and it was only when my gaze reached his eyes that I realized he knew exactly what he was doing. I tried not to flush again, and almost succeeded.

“So, you’ve got a day off from the bar today?” Clammy and flushed at the same time, just like I’d expected.

C’mon, just talk to the guy. Friendly and professional, remember? “Well, just the morning. We don’t open until 4, because we’re not doing lunches, because the oven is—” I tailed off. Does he really want to know?

He nodded. “Good to know. I was planning to come back this afternoon, and it’s probably best if there aren’t any customers when I do.”

What the hell does that mean? My blank look must have showed on my face, because Ryan smiled, and held up a hand.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be mysterious. I’m an archaeologist. I’m here because the bar owner contacted me asking about some bones that were discovered underneath the bar last week. So I’ll be at the bar quite a bit.”

I was temporarily dumbfounded. “You’re Ryan Sanders? As in Doctor Ryan Sanders?”

He saluted. “At your service. Normally I’d be flattered you’d heard of me, but realistically I don’t think I’m that famous.” He paused, grinning. “Yet. A man can hope, I guess. Those photos the owner sent me did look pretty interesting, so you never know.”

“Y-yeah.” I’d expected the archaeologist to be a wizened little old guy, not…not, well, Indiana Jones.

Hell! And I kissed him!

“Mind you, if this is a significant find, I’m afraid you’re going to have to find another job. Your boss should be pretty well-compensated for the demolition of the place, though.”

Demolition?

“What. Do. You. Mean. Demolition?”

Ryan picked up another scarf, and held it up to my face. He appeared to be completely unaware of the look of horror I had. “Maybe the blue? Hmm. Well, if the site is deemed to be valuable, then it will be acquired by the Government, and we’ll clear it and start the excavation.”

“Excavation?”

“Yes, excavation. There could be fossils and artifacts spread over quite a wide area, so we’d level the site and start digging down, bit by bit.” Finally, after some time, Ryan noticed my horrified expression. “Oh, you’re worried about your job?” He gave me an apologetic smile. “Yeah, I understand, and I’m sorry about that. But an experienced bartender like you should be able to find another one pretty easily, surely? I watched you work, and I was very…impressed.”

My brain whirled, and I looked about desperately. Where the hell was Farrah when I needed her?

“W-who decides if the site is valuable?”

Ryan shrugged again. “Well, it’s a Heritage Council committee decision, based on a report I make. That’s mostly what I’m here for. I’ll assess the place over the next week, do some excavation, and come to a decision. It shouldn’t take long.” He reached out and took my unresisting hand. “Honestly, don’t worry. It’s not like it’s going to happen immediately. You’ll have plenty of time to find another job. I’ll come and talk to the owner, and he’ll explain everything to you, I’m sure.”

That did it. Now, I was a bit annoyed. “I am the owner, Doctor Sanders. I’m the one who emailed you.”

Now it was Ryan’s turn to be speechless, and I didn’t know whether to be gratified at the look of shock on his face, or annoyed that he quite evidently hadn’t even considered the possibility of my being in charge.

“You are? I, uh, yeah. Okay. Uh, great.” He looked at the ground for a moment. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. So, you’re the owner? Cat, uh, Milsom?”

“Yes, I’m the owner,” I snapped at him. “What part of this is difficult for you to understand?”

“Nothing, nothing at all.” Ryan’s face was guileless. “You didn’t exactly identify yourself last night at the bar.”

“Neither did you.”

“I thought I was just talking to a bartender.”

“I thought I was just talking to a customer.”

A wry smile spread across his face. “Well, your hospitality was impressive. If all your customers get that sort of treatment, I can see why your bar is so popular. I’m amazed there aren’t queues outside, in fact.”

I fumed; I wanted to hit him, but I settled for what I thought looked like an imperious glare. It more-or-less worked, in the sense that he had the grace to look apologetic. “Okay, I’m sorry, that was a bit unfair. Look, I wanted to say—”

“There’s nothing to say.” I interrupted, talking quickly to cover my embarrassment. “It was…a mistake. I don’t know what happened.”

Ryan looked slightly hurt. “I meant I wanted to say that if you’re the owner, you’ll be well-compensated for the bar and the land. Seriously, the law about compulsory acquisitions is very generous. You’ll get many times the market value, believe me.”

In between my embarrassment at the kiss, and my shock at the idea of my bar being demolished, I didn’t know which emotion to feel first.

Ryan coughed. “As for the other issue…well, I was pretty impressed when you kissed me. It was kind of unexpected, I have to say.”

“Well,” I spluttered, “you were all argh rargh alpha male at the bar, remember? What were you hoping would happen?”

“Yeah, okay, that.” He held up his hands. “Mea freakin’ culpa. I just didn’t think it would happen, that’s all.”

“Neither did I.” The ludicrous nature of this conversation was gradually catching up with me, like being stalked by a housecat; you know it’s behind you somewhere, but you’re unwilling to face it until it pounces on you.

He winked at me. I think he was going for raffish and Tom Hiddlestonesque, but instead he looked like he’d got something in his eye. “If you’re ever in need of a repeat performance, I’m happy to oblige.”

My irritation finally boiled over. “You come down here, talk me into kissing you under false pretenses, tell me you’re going to demolish my bar, and then you ask if I want a repeat performance?” Unwrapping the scarf he’d placed around my neck, I balled it up and threw it at him. “Perform this!”

The scarf hit Ryan directly in the face, and he caught it as I stormed off. I heard him call after my rapidly-retreating back, “Uh, I’ll pop round this afternoon, if that’s okay?”

* * *

Stalking through the crowd, I cast around for Farrah. Or someone. Anyone.

You kiss one hot guy—just one—and the next thing you know he’s wanting to demolish your bar. Great.