A little before two that afternoon, Roxanne’s shirt was dry. She texted Abigail to find out if the shop was busy and whether Ingrid was still around. Abigail told her to come on over.

Throwing on her denim jacket, she hurried down the steps, out the door and across the sidewalk to the bakery entrance. She glanced at the display window to make sure her St. Patrick’s Day paint job was holding up. Sure was. The familiar aroma of yeast bread, pastries and coffee greeted her as she opened the door.

“Great timing!” Abigail called out from behind the cash register. Her short brown curls and bright smile matched the cheerful atmosphere of the bakery. “It’s dead now, but twenty minutes ago we were swamped.”

“It’s the new coffee flavor.” Ingrid looked frazzled as she rounded the counter with a spray bottle in one hand and a cleaning rag in the other. Wisps of blond hair had escaped the bun she wore during work hours. “Luck o’ the Irish is a hit.”

“People keep asking if there’s real brandy in it.” Abigail closed the cash drawer. “Especially the teenagers. They think they’re getting away with something.”

“It tastes real to me,” Roxanne said. “I’m not surprised they’re asking.”

Ingrid set the spray bottle and rag on the nearest bistro table. “Enough about that. Let’s see your shirt!”

“Ta-da!” Roxanne opened her jacket, faced Ingrid and then spun around so Abigail could see it, too.

Ingrid whooped. “I love it! Oh, my God, it’s so cute.”

“Adorable!” Abigail came out from behind the counter. “Take off your jacket so I can see how it fits.”

Shedding her jacket, Roxanne hung it over the back of a bistro chair. Then she spread her arms and twirled slowly. “It’s been washed and air dried and didn’t shrink at all. The cotton’s good quality.”

Ingrid came over and fingered the cap sleeve. “It does feel nice and the cut’s flattering. When can we get one?”

“Call the Guzzling Grizzly. They’re taking orders.”

“I’ll do that,” Abigail said. Hands on her hips, she studied the shirt. “What a brainstorm to sell these. Was it your idea?”

“No, Michael’s.” Right on cue, her face began to heat.

Ingrid exchanged a look with Abigail. Then they both folded their arms and gazed at her expectantly.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell you guys, but he asked me to have dinner last night at the GG.”

“Oh, did he, now?” Ingrid smiled. “And?”

She played innocent. “And what?”

“Blushing’s usually a sign there was more to it,” Abigail said. “Not that you have to tell us, but we are your besties, right?”

“Right. And there, um, was more to it. Listen could we have some of that Luck o’ the Irish coffee? I’ll help make it.”

“Sure we can.” Ingrid started toward the gleaming machine that had turned into a business bonanza in the past month. Pie in the Sky was the only place in Eagles Nest serving specialty coffee and Ingrid was constantly coming up with new recipes.

Moments later they’d gathered around a bistro table with whipped-cream-topped coffee drinks and shamrock cookies frosted bright green with sprinkles.

Ingrid bit into hers. “These bring out the kid in me. “

“You’re never too old for holiday-themed sugar cookies with sprinkles.” Roxanne admired her cookie before grabbing her phone and taking a picture of it for Wes. She quickly texted it to him. “My brother would love these.”

Abigail picked up her coffee. “When’s he coming to visit?”

“Soon, I hope, but he hasn’t settled on a date.”

“And speaking of dates…” Ingrid gave her a nudge.

“Yeah, well.” Roxanne sighed. “We had a great evening. He’s started something new over there, a VIP treatment for anybody celebrating a special occasion.”

“I heard about that,” Abigail said. “Sounded like fun.”

“It is. You feel pampered. Between that and the excitement about the new shirts, and dancing, and the duet Bryce and Nicole sang, I sort of got carried away.”

Ingrid’s expression grew dreamy. “Nice.”

“I mean carried away as in getting horizontal. It was a first date. That’s not me.”

“Oh, Roxanne.” Abigail smiled. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. He’s a great guy.”

“Yes, he is. The proof is that he’s agreed to dial it back. We’re going to take some time to get better acquainted before moving forward sexually.”

“Whaaat?” Ingrid gazed at her in astonishment. “How would that work?”

She shrugged. “Simple. We’ll date but not have sex.”

“But you already did.” Ingrid looked confused. “We’re talking about putting the toothpaste back in the tube, closing the barn door after the horse—”

“No, we’re not. Rational human beings are capable of reversing direction.”

Abigail grinned. “Sweetie, there’s nothing rational about sex.”

“We can do this. I swear we can. We’re not going to see each other until Monday night when we go to the movies so we both have a chance to cool down.”

Ingrid muffled a snort of disbelief.

“What’s so funny?”

“Look, Rox, I’ve seen Michael Murphy. Any woman who can cool down after spending the night with him is an alien.”

“I have to agree with Ingrid.” Amusement sparkled in Abigail’s eyes. “And I suggest you choose that movie very carefully.”

“Yeah, an animated feature involving lovable critters would be good,” Ingrid said. “Even then, you’ll be sitting in the dark, probably holding hands, each of you thinking about the time you did more than hold hands.”

It was a potential problem. She’d been consumed by thoughts of him all morning and her work had suffered.

“I hate to say it.” Abigail pushed aside her empty cookie plate. “But I think you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

Ingrid nodded. “Even if Michael is the perfect gentleman on Monday night, especially if he’s the perfect gentleman, you’ll take one look at him and want to jump his bones. That’s how it is when you’ve already had a taste.”

“I can do this.” Roxanne dragged in a breath. “But you make a valid point. The plan has a fatal flaw.”

“Michael’s too sexy for his shirt.” Ingrid looked pleased with herself for coming up with that. “Am I right?”

“Yep. And being apart for two whole days will make him even more tempting when we go out Monday night.”

“Bingo.” Ingrid drank the last of her coffee.

“So I’ll head over to the Guzzling Grizzly tonight around eight and have a drink at the bar. He’ll be working so nothing can happen, and I’ll have a chance to desensitize myself.”

“Oh, boy.” Ingrid grinned. “This I gotta see. Can I go with you?”

“Sure. I guarantee you’ll be impressed with how calm and collected I’ll be.”

“Can’t wait.” She glanced at Abigail. “I’ll take notes.”

“Thanks. I’d go in a heartbeat if I weren’t spending the night at Luke’s.”

“How are the renovations coming?” Roxanne switched topics with relief. She’d much rather talk about Luke’s house and the possibility of Abigail eventually moving there.

Discussing her own situation made her nervous. What if her friends were right and she couldn’t rein in her libido? What then?

* * *

Being in total charge of the Guzzling Grizzly on a busy Saturday night was a challenge, but it gave Michael a ton of satisfaction, too. He had a lot to juggle—tending bar, taking shirt orders and supervising the new bartender, but he loved the responsibility of it all.

Tansy Emerson wasn’t as green as he’d been eighteen months ago, but her last bartending job had been at a pub near the Yale campus. She was a fair hand at mixing drinks, but she struggled with the culture of the GG.

She’d agreed to dress like a cowgirl, black hat and all, but her fuchsia hair didn’t go with the outfit. Bryce and Michael had chosen not to mention that, especially after Tansy booked an appointment at Shear Delight and requested Nicole for the touchup on her color.

Not surprisingly, Tansy excelled at fancy drinks featuring layers of colored liqueur. Although the drinks took more time to make, Michael had suggested adding some to the cocktail menu. Bryce had been okay with a trial run. They’d become more popular than either of them would have guessed.

Michael could mix up a tray full of margaritas and serve two drafts while Tansy made one Monkey’s Lunch, a tri-colored shooter featuring Kahlua, banana liqueur and Baileys. But customers gathered around the bar to watch her do it, so in some respects it was performance art.

It also shifted a bigger load of regular drink orders over to him, but he had enough experience to handle it. And sometimes, like now, orders for the fancy drinks slowed down and Tansy pitched in on the GG’s bread and butter—beer, wine and well drinks.

“A cowboy was rocking out on the yes, ma’am and the no, ma’am routine a while ago.” She poured two glasses of merlot and set them on a tray.

“It’s how they’re used to addressing women.”

“It weirds me out. Makes me feel about a hundred and two.” She glanced at him. “I’ve even heard you do it, and you’re from Chicago, for heaven’s sake.”

He laughed. “I picked up the habit because I like the way it sounds. Nice and polite.”

“Should I be saying it to customers?” She set two foaming mugs of beer next to the wine and Ellen took the tray.

“Up to you. I think women save it for their elders, though.”

“That makes more sense to me. I’ll try it and see how it goes over.”

“Okay.”

Five minutes later, a middle-aged guy came to the bar and asked for a Monkey’s Lunch.

“Yes, sir,” Tansy said. “Coming right up, sir.”

“Thank you, young lady.”

Tansy grinned at Michael. “This might work out.” She started making the drink and people going by paused to watch. Soon she’d gathered a small crowd.

Michael threw himself into the breach, quickly filling the orders that Ellen and Jenny handed him. He worked without stopping until a familiar voice brought him to a screeching halt.

“Hi, Michael.”

He gazed into brown eyes he hadn’t expected to see until Monday night. Adrenaline shot through him and he almost dropped the bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “Hi, Roxanne.” He started to ask what she was doing here but caught himself in time. “What can I get you?”

“A draft is fine.” She slid onto a stool, looking sexy and hot in a tight red T-shirt under her denim jacket. She turned to her friend. “Ingrid, what do you want? I’m buying.”

“A draft for me, too, Michael.” Ingrid’s blond hair curled over her shoulders instead of being captured in a bun like it was when she worked at the bakery. She sat on the stool next to Roxanne. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Ingrid.” He couldn’t figure it out. This morning Roxanne had sounded as if she wanted a cooling-off period. Yet here she was, sitting at his bar, inches away.

Damn, she looked pretty. She’d put on that red lipstick again and he caught a whiff of her perfume, the one called Daring.

“Michael?”

He turned.

Tansy stood beside him.

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted some help, but I guess you didn’t hear me. I finished the Monkey’s Lunch.”

Ingrid gave her a puzzled glance. “What’s that?”

“A layered drink in a shot glass. Kahlua, banana liqueur and Baileys. It’s delicious. Want one?”

“I do! Cancel the draft, please. I want what she’s talking about. That sounds amazing.”

“Coming up!” Tansy smiled. “Guess I’m not available to help, after all, Michael.”

“No worries.” He glanced at Roxanne. “Do you want that, too?”

“No, thanks.” Her gaze held his and she was breathing kind of fast. “Just a draft, please.”

“I’ll get it for you.” His breathing wasn’t all that normal, either.

“Michael?” Jenny came up to the bar. “Do you have that JD and water?”

He looked at the bottle in his hand. “Yes. Five seconds.” He splashed some over ice and left spots on the counter. Wiping the surface quickly with a bar towel, he added water and overflowed the damn thing. Started over. Finally made the drink and put it on Jenny’s tray.

She gave him a funny look. “I’ll need that gin and tonic and a rum and Coke when I come back.”

“Sure thing.” He flashed her a smile. Get a grip, Murphy. Roxanne’s draft beer. He grabbed a glass mug from the pyramid behind the bar and managed to put a decent head on it.

Then he slopped it when he set it down on a coaster. “Sorry.” He picked it up, trashed the soaked coaster, wiped the bar and set down a fresh coaster.

“It’s okay.”

Bracing both hands on the bar to steady himself, he focused on her. “Surprised to see you here.” Understatement. “How come?”

She swallowed. “I was afraid if we went two days without contact, we’d…overreact.”

“Oh.” Instead he was overreacting now. Mere hours ago her mouth had…dear God, he couldn’t think about that!

“I was hoping that coming here tonight would desensitize—”

“Got that G and T and rum and Coke?” Jenny appeared with her empty tray.

“Excuse me a minute, Roxanne.” He turned away and quickly mixed the drinks while Jenny waited.

This was hell. And if he wanted to grab her and kiss the living daylights out of her when he was flooded with drink orders on a busy Saturday night at the GG, what chance did he have of managing a celibate movie date when he had no distractions?

None. But what choice did he have? She’d laid out a plan, even if she’d deviated from it tonight. He’d do his best to see it through.

When he turned back, she’d left her stool, left her beer, and put money on the bar along with one word written on a napkin. Sorry. Ingrid was gone, too, but she’d taken time to quickly drink her Monkey’s Lunch shooter.

Tansy gazed at him. “What was that all about?”

He blew out a breath. “Mixed signals.”

She nodded. “Thought so.”