Hot?” Rachel asked Bree.
“That’s what he said.” Bree wiped down the bar in front of her. “I only caught bits and pieces of the conversation, but I clearly made out the phrase ‘hot neighbor’ and by the time he mentioned the black and white Great Dane, I knew he was talking about you.”
Rachel had the day off work but popped into the bar to drop off the dress she’d stolen from Bree’s closet. The bag was in her hand, and she hadn’t yet brought up the fact she’d borrowed her friend’s clothes. In a plaid button-down, jeans, and boots minus the heels, by comparison Rachel was downright slumming.
She hadn’t slept well last night thanks to Adonis waking her three times to go out, so she’d spent the day cleaning and doing laundry before crashing for a three-hour midday nap.
As a result, her brain was chugging along groggily.
“I’m about to use part of my dog sitting pay to take a certain Great Dane to a kennel,” she said around a yawn. “He’s exhausting.”
“Why didn’t Oliver kennel the dog?”
“He said Adonis is used to being at home. Apparently, he’s used to being with the usual dog sitter, and I’m not an acceptable replacement.” Or maybe it was because the dog sitter Oliver typically employed had one job: dog sitting. Rachel had two, and being here forty-plus hours a week was putting a serious dent in her quality time with Adonis.
“I want to hear more about the long-haired, muscled neighbor you have. You underplayed him.” Bree leaned a hip on the bar. The Andromeda was in the middle of a lull, which wasn’t surprising given it was nine o’clock. “He’s still here, you know.”
“Here?” Rachel’s eyes went wide as she looked around. “Now?”
No way could she have missed him. He simply took up too much space. Tag was easy to notice. Like the time she’d spotted him briefly outside of Oliver’s apartment building.
The sound of low, male laughter echoed off the adjoining room, and she turned around to see Tag and an attractive dark-haired guy standing at the pool table. The other guy held out a hand and she heard him say, “I’ll take my twenty back now.”
“What’s he doing here?” Rachel whispered, trying to remember if she’d mentioned she worked at Andromeda. She didn’t think so, but if she had, that would mean Tag had come in here to see her.
Surely not. A ripple of excitement flowed through her at the thought.
“You mean did he ask about you?” Her friend’s smile was shit-eating.
“No.” Rachel drew out the word, hoping Bree would believe her.
Reaching into the Pup Paradise bag in which her dress and boots were being held, Bree asked, “Where did you go in this?”
“Nowhere. I chickened out.”
Bree shook her head and took the bag. “Fine. Keep lying to me. Lie to me, lie to your parents…” She stashed the bag beneath the bar.
“Hey, I will have you know I told my mom I broke up with Shaun.”
“You did not.” Her friend’s eyes went wide.
“I did. I told her we broke up. I told her I moved out.” Rachel bit down on her lip. “I did not tell her I was bartending instead of sitting in my own office.”
“Progress. You are making it.” Bree moved to the taps and pulled a beer. Then she gave Rachel a real smile as she filled a second glass. “Now go make some more progress, and take these to the two gentlemen playing pool.”
“Me? It’s my day off.” Rachel held up her hands in protest, and Bree put the beers into them.
“Go say hi to the large, pretty man with the beard and the gun show.”
“I can’t. He’s…too much.”
“Too much? What, like you can’t handle him?”
Rachel thought for a minute. Not that she couldn’t handle him, but…Yeah, kinda that she couldn’t handle him.
“He’s over six feet tall, and there’s so much hair, and…the sheer width of him.” She gestured said width with the beer mugs in her hands. “I don’t know. Shaun was reasonably sized. Somebody I could picture myself with until he turned into a jerk.”
Bree’s eyebrows lifted. “I didn’t say settle down with the guy. I said take him a beer. Talk to him. Maybe have a hot, steamy make-out session in the corner by the pool table.”
“Breanna!” Rachel hissed.
“What? You’re off the clock.”
Rachel was saved by a couple who walked up to the bar. Bree shuffled off to wait on them, but not before she turned and said, “Thanks for delivering those beers, Rach.”
With a growl low in her throat, Rachel turned on her heel and headed for the pool table.
Tag, in a low-slung man bun, was bent over lining up the cue ball. Rachel took brief inventory of his wide thighs decked in denim but quickly jerked her attention to his face when his dark-haired friend elbowed him. From his hunch over the table, Tag turned his head and pegged her with a look that was borderline animal. Then a bearded smile curved his mouth.
He straightened, put the pool cue stick on the floor, and stood with it at his side like a staff. At that moment she realized her assessment of Tarzan was incorrect. He looked more like a Viking. Or a supersized Aragorn from Lord of the Rings.
“Bree was in the weeds, so she asked me to bring you your beers,” Rachel lied. Because she had to have a reason for bringing him booze. She couldn’t hover in the doorway while Tag pierced her with those fierce blue eyes.
“You work here?” Tag asked as she put the beer glasses on a narrow ledge along the wall behind him.
“You didn’t know?” Disappointment sank into the pit of her stomach. Part of her had hoped he’d sought her out.
“No idea.”
“It’s my day off. I stopped in to…” Well, she couldn’t tell him she was dropping off the clothes she’d gone upstairs to his apartment wearing, now could she? “I just stopped in.”
“Do you drink beer?” Tag’s friend asked.
“Yes.” Rachel sent a look from him to Tag. Tag shook his head, but his smile remained. She was missing something.
“Good. I have to go home to the old ball and chain.” The friend held up his left hand and wiggled his wedding band with his thumb. “You can have my beer. And Tag can pay for everything since he owes me money for whipping his ass at pool tonight.” He snagged his coat off the coat rack—black leather—and slid his arms into it.
“I’m telling Gena you called her a ball and chain,” Tag said as his friend moved across the room.
“Tell her whatever you want. She barely believes you anyway.” Then he leveled Rachel with a warm amber gaze. “Lucas. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
He extended a hand and she shook it, noting his extra emphasis on the word finally. She apologized for her hand being damp from the glass. Then Lucas was gone and Tag and Rachel were in the billiard room by themselves. She put her hands in her coat pockets and gave the beer a dubious look.
“I should get back to Adonis.” She wasn’t in any hurry to go home, but faced with the prospect of hanging out with Tag alone, she would rather leave. She thought of how Bree had challenged her a minute ago. Surely, Rachel could handle being in the same public place with him. Though, at the moment the small room felt more intimate than the night she went up to his house dressed in almost nothing.
“Do you play pool?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“Well,” she answered. Whenever it was slow here, she practiced. And before then she and Shaun used to play at a dive near work.
Where I used to work.
“In that case”—Tag did a neat little move where he lifted the pool stick and let it slide along his hand until the bottom hit the floor—“we’ll drink instead of play. I’ve lost enough money tonight.”
After putting away both pool cues, he came to her and held out a hand. It took her a few seconds to realize he was asking for her coat. She slipped the buttons through her black wool coat and handed it over, then watched as he hung it on the coat rack on the wall. The way he moved exuded strength and confidence. And the way he looked in jeans and a sweater…well, that was heat and sex and temptation personified.
Too much. He’s just too much.
On his way back, he palmed both beers, dwarfing the drafts in his big hands. “It’s one drink, Dimples.”
She blinked, taking in his earnest expression. Her entire life, she’d never been called anything but Rachel or Rach. She tried to decide how she felt about the new nickname. Tried to call up her inner feminist and be properly offended, but she couldn’t feel anything short of flattered.
She accepted one of the glasses and Tag lifted his in a silent cheers.
“Do you and Lucas work together?” she asked after taking a drink.
“Nah. Lucas is in the music business. I’m in the hotel business. But we’ve been friends for a long time.” He leaned a hip on the pool table. He was so…big. Dominant.
Delicious.
No, not delicious. He was not the same word she used to describe cheese-covered fries. He was something different. Something she wasn’t cut out for. She could sense it.
“Cool. Music. That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, the girls were always drawn to him. Music is a sexier profession than hotels.” Tag’s smile was self-deprecating.
“You poor thing.” She had zero doubts he’d collected his share of phone numbers, and she knew exactly what it was about him that made her shy away.
The boy was a Player. Capital P.
“Did he put a dent in your average?” she asked, lifting her glass for another drink.
He grinned and his expression was so blindingly beautiful, she lost track of what she was going to say. He took one step, then another. The closer he came, the more nervous she grew. Each step was purposeful, capable. Whatever he did in the hotel business, he sure as hell wasn’t a maintenance guy. He smacked of power. Of commanding it. Of wielding it. An answering zing in her stomach sent a flutter of butterflies into her chest cavity.
When he was close enough to touch her, he did, gently resting a palm on her shoulder. Warmth saturated her, sending those butterflies on a hectic migration through her limbs. He redirected his gaze to the dining room, but not until after he’d started speaking. “Hey, guys, table’s open.”
“Thanks,” one of them answered.
Rachel turned to see a pair of guys walk into the room and fish quarters out of their pockets. When she looked back to Tag, he was watching her with a quiet intensity that made her want to turn and run.
“Pick a place to sit,” he said. “We’re not done yet.”
* * *
Flirting with Rachel came easy, but her reactions weren’t what he was used to.
The wariness was normal. Women often reacted suspiciously when they first met him, but Rachel’s reaction was more than suspicion of what he might want from her. She acted almost afraid of what she might want from him.
If she was anyone else, he’d make an excuse and bug out, knowing what would follow: her walling up and shutting down each of his advances. She’d given him an inch when he called her Dimples, and damn what he wouldn’t give to see her flash those pair of divots again, but then she’d clammed up the second he mentioned Lucas had been popular with the ladies.
Rachel’s guard was way, way up. She’d been hurt, and if he had to guess, it hadn’t been that long ago.
Nearly every table in the place was open. A few business types hanging out in curved booths. A cluster of women dressed for happy hour at a group of tables pushed together. Rachel sat at a table as opposed to a cozy booth—on purpose, he’d bet. She wasn’t looking to get cozy with him tonight.
He sat across from her, dwarfing the wooden chair. A candle in a jar threw golden light onto her blond hair, creating a halo around her that looked like it belonged there.
“You’re single?” he asked, cutting right to the chase. If she was going to throw up walls, he wanted to know how many questions he could ask before she bricked him out. A risky tactic, but if she stood and stormed off, he knew where she lived.
One eyebrow arched. “Are you?”
“I am tonight.” He held her gaze and leaned on the table, crowding the small space.
Rachel sat back in her chair and lifted her beer, creating physical distance. “Do you always come on this strong?”
“No,” he answered honestly.
Often, he watched, would take a read on a group of girls across the room. Usually, one would break out of her safety zone and come to him. Ask about his hair. Mention she had a bet going with a friend and ask if she could touch it. He always let them touch. Touching led to them agreeing to come home with him, so it was a smart move.
“Adonis favors the toy beaver over the squirrel. What do you think that means?” Her brows closed in as if she was actually considering the absurd question.
Tag laughed. “You’re funny.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Okay. Well, the girl didn’t lack self-confidence, so her trepidation wasn’t because of timidity. She shouldn’t be timid. She was gorgeous. And single.
Strange.
“How long have you lived in Chicago?” he asked.
“A few years. You?”
She was good at throwing the conversation back at him.
“Lived here since birth.” He reached for his beer, anticipating her next question.
As predicted, she went with, “Where do you work?”
“Crane Hotels,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. Normally, he’d only mention he worked for a big hotel chain. But Rachel didn’t know he was a Crane, and once she did, he was curious how she’d react. “I run Guest and Restaurant Services.”
“Ah, then you can write this visit off, I’m assuming.” She narrowed her eyes in faux suspicion. “Are you here to steal Andromeda’s bar secrets?”
Write-off. Not a term often spouted by a girl who worked in the service industry, unless she owned the place.
“What’s the deal, Dimples? How did a businesswoman end up slinging shots in a bar?” It was a guess, but it drew a response. Her mouth softened and dropped open. Then she frowned, probably trying to figure out what she’d said to give herself away.
“I…um. Didn’t like to dress professionally.” She took a drink of her draft beer. He liked how she drank out of a big-ass frosty mug, filling her cheeks before she swallowed. She hadn’t argued about the beer. Didn’t balk and order something pink and served in a martini glass, which suited her.
Rachel had more secrets than Victoria…which made him wonder what kind of underwear she’d hidden beneath her casual, relaxed outfit. Their conversation had been laced with his questions and her snappy comebacks. He had no idea who she was, but her evasiveness only made him want to know more.
Dressed down, she was turning him on more than she had in the skintight dress she’d worn to his penthouse. Much as he liked a girl spilling out of her clothes, Rachel looked ready to go on an adventure, awakening the explorer in him.
“I don’t believe that for a second.” He kept his tone casual instead of accusatory.
“That’s all you’re getting.” She stood from the table, propping a hand on the tempting curve of her hip. “I’m going to go. Thank you for the beer.”
“Taking a cab?” He kept his voice at normal volume instead of calling after her as she beelined for the billiard room to collect her coat. She had to stop and turn back to him to respond.
Perfect.
“Yes.” A glance to the windows. “I mean, probably. It’s snowing.”
“It is snowing.” Outside, fat flakes fell from sky to ground in a delicate dance. It wasn’t windy, wasn’t too cold. Luc had driven him here, which left Tag to his own devices. “Nice night for a walk.”
He stood and handed a few bills to her before she turned him down, which face it, was likely. “Give this to your friend. I don’t need change. I’ll grab our coats.”
“Tag.” She was already shaking her head and holding out the money for him to take back.
“We live in the same building. We’re going the same direction.”
“I could be going to my boyfriend’s house,” she said when he started away from her. He paused and leaned close, watching her eyes flicker to his lips. He liked being this close to her. She smelled good.
“I’m flattered, but not really boyfriend material, Dimples.” He winked. Which was overkill and earned him a flat-mouthed grimace, but she went to the bar to talk to her friend like he’d asked.
He grabbed their coats and met her as Bree dropped cash into the tip jar. She grinned approvingly at Tag, happier than Rachel about what was transpiring.
“Hey, are you sure I can trust you with my girl?” Bree asked.
“I’m not sure I can trust her.” He shot a thumb in Rachel’s direction, then leaned on the bar and lowered his voice. “Did she tell you she came up to my apartment last night dressed in the tightest black dress I’ve ever seen? Red lipstick—”
“Tag! He’s kidding,” Rachel interjected, her cheeks staining a delicate pink. He was content to see her flustered.
“—high-heeled boots. Short, short dress.” He pursed his lips and let out a short whistle.
Bree’s smile held but a shocked expression joined it. “He’s why you borrowed my dress!” She pointed at Rachel. “Do I need to launder it?”
He laughed.
“I did it because he accused me of being a hooker!” Rachel said a little too loud. A table of guys lifted their collective heads in interest. Tag took the opportunity to straighten and wrap an arm around her; then he pulled her close and slid his palm from her waist to her hip. Everywhere his fingers brushed was met with Rachel’s body shifting, but she didn’t pull away from him. Not even a little.
Bree didn’t miss anything, her eyes following the display.
He looked down at Rachel, who was flushed and flustered and trying not to look at him. She liked him way more than she wanted to admit, and he liked that a whole hell of a lot. He gave her a soft squeeze before letting her go, but moved his hand possessively to the small of her back.
“It’s just a walk. We’re not trading services of any kind.” He offered her coat.
Rachel’s pinked cheeks went ruddy as she narrowed her eyes at him. Then she snatched the coat and started to the door without him.
He looked to Bree for encouragement, but Bree’s loyalty to her friend was rock solid. “Good luck,” was all she said.