Nothing But Trouble Page 2

  Ned understood Brandon and his family wel —better than anyone else, in fact.

  “Wel , they finally got that I wanted to start out in a courtroom, not a board room. But convincing them was … work.”

  “I’l bet. I can just picture your mother. ‘But Brandon, darling,’” Ned mimicked in a near-perfect imitation of Priscilla Prince, “‘you must take your rightful place in the family business.’”

  “Bingo. My father’s predicting I’ll hold out five years. My mother’s more optimistic. She’s giving me a year to ‘get it out of my system.’”

  Ned chuckled. “You rebel.”

  “What can I say? Every family has to have a black sheep.”

  “Oh, is that what you are?” Shaking his head, he added, “You’ve been doing everything your family has expected of you your entire life. It’s about damn time you did it your way.”

  Inside, Brandon bristled. Mostly because Ned was right. He knew he deserved to follow the career path of his choice, but stil , he felt guilty for disappointing his folks by not immediately joining Prince Shipping. But this was something he had to do.

  He wanted to make a difference, accomplish his goals without the almighty power of the Prince name backing him up.

  He smiled grimly. “Well, thank you, Frank Sinatra.” He took a slug of beer. “And for your information, I haven’t always done what my folks asked me. Don’t forget, they weren’t thril ed about me dating Beth.”

  “Right. That was a real act of rebel ion,” Ned retorted, rolling his eyes. “If I remember, her blood wasn’t the requisite shade of blue.” He scratched his temple. “Whatever happened between you two, anyway?”

  Brandon was heartened to note that the pain was practically gone and his disappointment over their break-up no longer important. Thank God he was over it. Over her. He shrugged.

  “She dumped me like a bad apple.”

  Ned’s eyes clouded with sympathy for a fraction of an instant, but he knew better than to voice it. “Anyone new?”

  Brandon let his gaze wander back to the entrance to the main bar. “You never know. Maybe.”

  Ned shook his head. “Don’t go there, buddy.”

  “Go where?”

  “I recognize that look in your eyes. You’re interested in Laura.”

  “So?”

  “You’d have an easier time convincing Rush Limbaugh to vote Democratic.”

  “Is that right?” He’d always enjoyed a challenge.

  Ned squinted his eyes. “Uh-oh,” he muttered, then pulled out his wal et. “Ten bucks says she’l chew you up and spit you out.” Brandon stood, grinning. “Fifty.”

  Ned rolled his eyes, then gazed up at his college buddy with a look bordering on abject pity. “Okay, but I’m not paying your hospital bill,” he said, standing too.

  “Where are you going?” Brandon asked. “I work alone.”

  “Not this time, pal. I wouldn’t miss this show for al the pork futures on Wal Street.”

  “Just don’t cramp my style.”

  “Oh, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m no fool. I’m watching from a safe distance.” He tipped back his bottle and drained it, then smacked it down on the table. “Good luck, man.

  Watch your vital organs.”

  * * *

  LAURA PUNCHED the button of the CD player, and the throaty voice of Bonnie Raitt drifted from the speakers. Then she turned and surveyed her domain proudly. Considering she’d been handed lemons most of her life, she considered her bar, Nothing But Trouble, proof that Laura Tanner could make lemonade.

  Ali dropped her tray on the counter and heaved a huge sigh.

  “The Booker twins are back.”

  Laura looked out over the room, searching for the infamous sisters. “Who are their targets tonight?”

  “Jimmy Raye and his cousin,” Ali grumbled.

  “Uh-oh, this is trouble,” Hannah predicted ominously, swiveling on her stool to take a look. After a moment she swung back. “Wel , the good news is, he looks annoyed.”

  Ali gave Hannah a grateful smile, then swung back to Laura.

  “Dry Rob Roy, martini up with a twist, and a glass of chablis.”

  Laura spun to mix the drinks, withholding judgment. As far as men went, Jimmy Raye wasn’t the worst of the lot. Not that he was a saint, either, especially when he came in on Ali’s nights off. But Ali had a real thing for the flirtatious firefighter, and Laura had no desire to burst her bubble. That was, unless Jimmy hurt her. In which case, Jimmy would answer to Laura.

  After shaking the martini, she strained it into a stemmed glass, rubbed a lemon peel along the rim, twisted it, and dropped it in the drink.

  Suddenly the hair on her nape prickled, and she went stil .

  Then she heard Hannah say, “Wel , hel-looo there,” under her breath. “Come to mama, baby.”

  Laura glanced up at Hannah, who whistled softly. Both of her friends were ogling someone—a man, of course—to their left. She followed their lust-fil ed gazes down the length of the bar. And stared right into a pair of the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. She went stil, mesmerized. She recognized the man as one who’d sat in a booth in the back room, but he’d been too far away from her to see his eyes then. They were the color of a midsummer leaf and sparkled with … humor.

  Laura dragged her gaze from the man’s eyes and checked out his mouth to see if it was curved in a grin. It wasn’t. His lips were firm and straight and very, very sexy.

  At least a two-day growth of beard shadowed his jaw, and his jet-black hair was a little long and shaggy. He had proud cheekbones, a solid chin, and a really nice nose.

  Al in all, every woman’s fantasy. Perhaps he was a mirage.

  Laura blinked. Twice. But the man didn’t disappear like a mirage. He sat four stools down from Hannah and just stared at Laura. And Laura felt helpless to do anything but stare right back. A droning noise began in her head, and it took her a moment to recognize it as Ali humming, “Someday My Prince Will Come.”

  “Laura?” she heard … from far, far away it seemed.

  “Hmmm?” she managed.

  “Earth to Laura.”

  The fog that had momentarily enveloped her dissolved. She shook her head and glanced back at Ali, embarrassment pinking her cheeks. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that drink order?”

  Ali grinned. “I didn’t give you a drink order.” She cocked her head the tiniest bit toward the man. “But I bet he has one.”

  She winked. “And you know what they say. ‘What the customer wants,’ and all that.”

  Laura ran her hands down the sides of her overal s and tried to right her suddenly off-kilter world. She fell back on their old game. “What do you say? Actor?”

  Hannah tossed in her opinion. “A guy that good-looking has to have something wrong with him. Convicted felon.”

  Ali glanced at the man, then back at Laura. “Royal prince.”

  Laura snorted, tossing down her rag. “You’re nuts, Ali.

  Royal princes shave and wear designer clothes, not Planet Hollywood T-shirts.”

  Putting a cool, efficient expression on her face, Laura made her way to the man. “Hey. What can I get you?” she asked briskly.

  The man’s eyes gleamed with that secret humor. And an open, easy honesty that had to be fake. “What’s your specialty?”

  Laura cocked her head. “Anything you want,” she said, then almost groaned. “Any drink, I mean.”

  His lips did tip up then, and she was startled to see two deep dimples on either side of his mouth. She’d always thought that dimples made a man seem less masculine somehow, but she quickly revised that misconception. This man’s dimples were sexy as sin.

  He raked his hair back with long, elegant fingers, and she absently noticed his nails were clean and wel cared for.

  Somehow that seemed a little odd, considering his casual attire and stubble.

  “How about a Lite draft?” He indicated the man sitting beside him, who’d completely escaped Laura’s attention before.

  “And one for my buddy, here.”

  Flustered, Laura nearly whimpered. “Oh!” She took a breath. “Hey there, Ned. Didn’t see ya. How’s it goin’?”

  “Hey, Laura. Same old, same old,” her regular replied, but his eyes seemed to be gleaming with mischief for some reason.

  She nodded, then went to pour two beers. Setting them down, she was proud her hands didn’t shake uncontrollably.

  There was something unsettling about the man’s intense gaze.

  As if he could see right into her soul. “Your first time here?”

  “My very first time. I’m just here on vacation.”

  “Oh!” she said, trying desperately not to let that news disappoint her. “Where are you from?”

  “Rhode Island.” He slid a ten-dollar bill toward her. When Laura picked it up, he hung on just a heartbeat too long before releasing it. Their fingers didn’t touch, but she felt a tingle nonetheless. A very annoying tingle.

  She shot a look at him to see if he’d felt it too, but he’d already returned his attention to Ned and a discussion about the hockey game playing out silently on the TV behind her.

  Okay, so it was a one-way tingle. And the intense gaze he’d bestowed on her earlier had been a figment of her obviously overtired imagination. Why she found that even more annoying than the tingle, she couldn’t say. After all, she generally got good and ornery when customers paid too much attention to her. The fact that he didn’t pay a speck shouldn’t bother her in the least.

  Didn’t bother her in the least. Not a bit, dang it.

  Laura noted the way he popped peanuts in his mouth, and it suddenly occurred to her that she should probably refil the snack bowl for them. After al , Ned was a good customer, and he
deserved the best service she had to offer.

  While she fil ed the bowl she cast a sideways glance and found his attention once again directed her way. He smiled his thanks, and Laura’s head went a little fuzzy. She resisted the urge to shake it clear. His smile wasn’t promising or lecherous or anything but real friendly. She should be grateful. She hated male come-ons more than just about anything else.

  Dropping the large bag of nuts back into the lower cabinet, she took the ten and went to make change, grateful for the respite from those deep green, friendly eyes.

  While she rang up the beers on the cash register, Laura tried to figure out her mixed emotions. When she did, she blew out a disgusted breath.

  She was insulted.

  And not a little disappointed.

  And entirely too close to pouting.

  Wel , that would never do. So what if for one teensiest second she’d considered that maybe Ali had final y hit the jackpot, psychical y speaking, and that maybe, just maybe, this guy was her prince? What a crock! And worse, it hurt her pride that she had to remind herself she wasn’t in the market and wouldn’t be for a good long time, if ever. She didn’t have the time or inclination to get involved in an affair right now. And she would never, ever marry again.

  Pushing away all her emotions except the angry one, she decided to go on the offensive and direct it at him for making her almost crazy for a moment.

  With an aloof look on her face, she turned back to him and dumped his change on the bar.

  He slid all of it right back at her. “Keep it.”

  Normal y Laura considered overtipping a sign that a man was looking for more than good bar service. But she’d always figured that if they wanted to be suckers that was their problem.

  Yet somehow, just by the lack of guile in his incredible eyes, she had the feeling this guy was just being generous.

  She made a point of picking up two quarters and dumping them in her tip jar and leaving al the bil s right in front of the guy. To her surprise, he laughed and thrust out a hand. “Hey, I’m Brandon Prince. And you are … ?”

  Laura’s heart stopped. For a moment she went stil before looking at him suspiciously. Obviously, she was having trouble hearing correctly.

  He didn’t drop his hand, and real interest sparkled in his eyes. “Laura Tanner, right?” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

  Stil she made no move to take that hand. Manners be damned. She was not going to touch him. “What did you say your name was again, mister?”

  He grinned and final y gave up on the handshake, dropping his hand to the bar. “Brandon.”

  She liked that name. Help. “And the last?”

  “Prince.”

  Laura rol ed her eyes, but her heart was racing. Prince Charming. Pure coincidence. Has to be. “Not charmed, I’m sure.”

  He laughed a full, deep laugh. And though she continued to scowl at him, inside her hardened heart melted for a moment before she came to her senses.

  Get a grip, Tanner. You don’t like men, remember. And you sure-as-shootin’ know bet er than to let one with lush, green eyes and dimples to die for and a sexy laugh affect you.

  He continued to smile, and Laura’s heart flip-flopped.

  Wel , okay, so he was gorgeous. But all she was feeling was lust. Normal, everyday lust. She didn’t have much use for men, but she had to admit they were good for one thing. The one thing she hadn’t had in a good, long time. Apparently too long, she decided, as she felt the heat of his gaze in every cel of her body. Ali was waiting for a drink order—unfortunately—so Laura was forced to face down her friends.

  “Well?” Ali asked.

  “Sorry, Ali, your pulp’s feeding you wrong information,”

  she said, deciding not to elaborate on just how close Ali’s fortune-tel ing had come. The man might not be an honest-to-goodness royal prince, but he was certainly a prize.

  While she tried to keep busy, she remained utterly aware of the man fifteen feet away. She could even tel when he looked at her, because her neck hairs sent up signals that made her shiver inside.

  Another customer waved for a second round, and she had no choice but to pass Brandon Prince to deliver the beer. The bartender and owner in her forced her to check on him as she passed him. Sure enough, his mug was empty.

  After depositing the beers, she stopped in front of him, gazing directly at his chest. “Another one?” she asked, her voice coming out raspy. She cleared her throat and tried again. “One more?”

  “Did you know you’re going to fal in love with me sometime tonight?”

  Laura just gaped at him for a moment before breaking out in startled laughter. Sure enough, Brandon’s eyes had gone smoky with more than just humor. Now there was unmistakable sensuality lurking in their depths. She ignored the burst of pleasure that gave her and concentrated on relief that he was just like every other male in the species. This, she could deal with.

  “No, can’t say that I do know that.”

  He nodded, and a lock of hair fel over his forehead enticingly. “It’s true, you know.”

  “Right. And frogs have wings.”

  She noticed Ned watching the conversation with avid interest. Flustered at this sudden change in the guy, she couldn’t help but ask Ned’s friend, “What happened, bucko? That beer getting to you? Five minutes ago you paid about as much attention to me as a fly.”

  “The quiet yet friendly approach wasn’t working,” he answered solemnly.

  Little did he know. “Neither is this one.” She glared at Ned.

  “Maybe y’al better head on home. I think your friend has reached his limit.”

  Ned grinned and shook his head. “Nope. He’s only had two.” “Maybe he’s a lightweight.”

  “Not unless he’s changed drastically since Yale.”

  This gorgeous creature in jeans and T-shirt was an Ivy Leaguer? Ohhh, she didn’t like them. Except Hannah, of course.

  They reminded her too much of al she’d never had, but yearned for. Like a col ege education. Any col ege education.

  “I’m sober as a judge and just waiting patiently for you to fal for me,” Brandon added.

  Her heart did another exasperating little lurch. She snorted.

  “You won’t live that long, mister.” She cocked her head and gave him a once-over she hoped wouldn’t reveal her honest appraisal. “You know, we have a saying about folks like you where I come from.”

  She noticed that as he answered, his eyes were seemingly locked on her lips. “What’s that, beautiful?”

  “Your ego’s ’bout as big as a skunk’s tail and don’t smel as sweet.”

  He grinned. “I thought I heard somewhere that women find self-confidence sexy.”

  “Your sources are sadly il -informed.”

  “Darn,” he said, but didn’t seem al too upset, nor any more humble for that matter.

  “You havin’ another, or not?” she asked impatiently, a little irritated that she couldn’t shake his confidence. She was slipping.

  She could usual y cut a man down in six words or less, walk away, and leave him there to bleed. She couldn’t even prick a drop of blood from this guy, and her usual reserve of swift comebacks seemed to have deserted her.

  “How about something different this time?”

  “Whatever you—” She stopped. Why had she never noticed before how sexual bar talk could be? “What’l you have?”

  “Surprise me.”

  She’d like to surprise him, all right. She’d like to look him in the eye and say, “Did you know you’re my prince?” And because she knew he wasn’t and never would be, she got irritated—with herself for succumbing to his hot stare, and with him for having the audacity to keep it up, even after she’d told him to back off.

  So she went to work. Keeping her back to him, she prepared the drink, then with the most innocent smile she had in her repertoire, she carried it to him and set it down. “Fourteen ninety-five, please.”

  He looked at it speculatively. “Looks dangerous. What is it?” “My own special drink. Try it.”

  He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, never taking his eyes from hers. “Mmmmm,” he murmured in appreciation.

  “Almond-scented. Amaretto?”

  Laura set her crossed forearms on the bar and shook head.

  “Cyanide,” she told him, batting her lashes. “I cal the drink, ‘Drop Dead.’”