Reese's Wild Wager Read online

  “It’s not easy to find employees, period,” he said in agreement. “You have anyone lined up yet?”

  She shook her head. “I’m putting an ad in this week.”

  “Well, if you want long-term, take it from me and stay away from aspiring actors and artists. One day they’re here and the next, poof, they magically disappear.”

  “Sort of like fiancés,” she said lightly, then wished she hadn’t. She saw the change in Reese’s eyes, the pity. More than she hated what people said about her, she hated the pity.

  She felt the sofa dip as he sat beside her. Her senses went on immediate alert. She had no idea what was going on with her unexplained feelings toward Reese, but if she’d learned anything this morning, it was to keep as much space between her and him as possible. Especially when she was tired. Tired made her vulnerable, and that was the last thing she wanted to be around Reese. She knew better than to let her guard down with men like Reese Sinclair.

  “Sydney.” He said her name with such trepidation that she felt her insides wince. “I need to talk to you.”

  Good grief, if they’d been lovers, she’d have sworn he was getting ready to break it off. But they weren’t lovers, of course, and that was a ridiculous thought, anyway.

  With a sigh, she sat and leveled her gaze with his. He actually looked worried, she thought in amazement. As if he hated whatever lecture he was about to give her. It had been nice, for two minutes, to have a discussion with Reese without verbal barbs, to talk business as if they were equals. Peers. Only he didn’t consider them equals or peers at all, she thought. She knew he considered her restaurant a lark, that she didn’t know one little thing about owning a business or the hard work attached to it.

  Well, she did know what she was doing, and what she didn’t know she’d learn. And she’d be damned if she’d sit and cower while he reprimanded her like a child.

  “If you’re still upset about the flowers and tablecloths, then fine, I won’t do that again. I simply thought it might add a certain…je ne sais quoi—” she gestured with her hand “—sophistication?”

  “That’s not what I wanted to—” He stopped, narrowed his eyes. “Sophistication?”

  She tucked a stray strand of hair back into the knot on the top of her head. “I wasn’t suggesting it for every day. I just thought that a couple of subtle changes would add a little refinement to your Sunday brunch.”

  The green of his eyes darkened and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “You stick that nose of yours up any higher, Syd, you’re going to need a guide dog to lead you around.”

  “Well, you certainly don’t need to be rude.” She forced her head to remain perfectly level. “For all it matters to me, you can throw peanut shells on the floor and serve beer in paper cups.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, that’s so.” She stood, shot a cool gaze at him. “Well, it’s been real, but if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to cover for Julie’s break before I leave. And I consider this hour overtime, Sinclair. Time-and-a-half.”

  Guide dog, she fumed as she left the lounge without giving him a chance to respond. She wasn’t a snob. And she most certainly did not stick her nose up in the—

  She tripped over a brass potted plant in the hallway outside the lounge and stumbled forward, barely catching herself. She heard the sound of Reese’s chuckle as he watched her from the doorway.

  As childish as it was, Sydney wished she had a big fat banana cream pie in her hands. She’d love to rub it in that stupid grin Reese had on his face. Tugging her sweater down, she turned smoothly on her heels and walked away.

  Four

  Unless it was a holiday weekend or the height of tourist season, Mondays at the tavern were normally slow so Reese closed and used the time to catch up on errands and the never-ending paperwork that was part of owning his own business. There were always books to be balanced, supplies to be ordered, staff schedules to be juggled and phone calls to be returned. While it was not his favorite part of self-employment, he simply accepted it as a necessary evil, cranked up his favorite Jonny Lang CD and settled down at his desk with a gallon of coffee.

  He’d been at it for two hours, and he’d accomplished zip.

  All because his mind kept wandering to a completely irascible, highly frustrating, extremely uptight female.

  Coffee mug in hand, he leaned back in his desk chair and swiveled around to stare out his office window at the garden he’d had restored after renovating the tavern and inn. In the spring and summer the plants were thick and lush, the flowers a brilliant splash of color, but now, in the fall, the foliage had been cut back and only a few hardy chrysanthemums and asters still bloomed. While Jonny’s gravelly voice wailed about lies and sex, Reese watched a bumblebee explore one budding branch of Winter Heath and, for the hundredth time, his mind drifted to Sydney.

  After only one day the situation had already gotten out of hand. When he’d gone to the employee’s lounge yesterday, he’d had every intention of putting an end to this farce. She’d looked so tired sitting on the couch with her head back and her eyes closed. So guileless. Soft and serene.

  Quiet.

  He smiled at that thought. He’d certainly never admit it to anyone, but he was not only getting used to that sass of hers, he actually enjoyed it. She said what was on her mind, and even though he didn’t always like it, he had to at least respect her honesty. She didn’t use her femininity to get her way or manipulate. No games of seduction or flirtation. No pouting or sulking. Even when she’d had to wipe down tables or sweep up a spilled bottle of catsup, she simply applied herself to the task without hesitation.

  Somehow he’d never pictured Sydney Taylor doing anything as menial as taking drink orders or clearing dishes. She’d been born with a silver spoon in that enticing mouth of hers, and he doubted she’d ever lifted a finger for anything more strenuous than a manicure.

  But she certainly had yesterday morning. She’d run her cute little behind off and never once complained. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn she’d actually enjoyed working. Other than those damn tablecloths and the admonishment she’d given George Hubbel for ordering the double pork sausage skillet breakfast with extra cheese—George had just been released from the hospital following a triple bypass—the morning had gone by great.

  Then she’d just had to go and get all snooty on him again. Implying the tavern lacked “sophistication.” It was a tavern, for crying out loud. Not Antoines. If he let her have her way, she probably would have put out finger bowls and chilled salad forks. To Reese, chilled salad forks were the epitome of nothingness.

  So he’d been compelled to continue their little parody. Just for another day or two, he told himself. That ought to be long enough to make Sydney Taylor throw in the towel.

  He was a man with a plan.

  Smiling, he took a sip of coffee, watching as the bumblebee stumbled out of the Winter Heath like a drunken sailor, then flew off. Sydney just needed a little instruction on how to relax and not be so serious all the time, Reese told himself. Not to be so high-and-mighty.

  To think he’d almost kissed her. He snorted at the thought, then frowned.

  He still wanted to kiss her.

  Dammit, what was it about the woman that had him thinking about her when he needed to be working? He’d never thought about Sydney like that before. Never noticed how smooth her skin was, or how soft the blue of her eyes was, how incredibly tantalizing her mouth was. And when she’d stepped between his legs and moved so close, her breasts only inches away from him, he could have simply leaned forward and—

  “Yo, Reese, you in here?”

  He jumped at the sound of Lucian’s voice, swore when coffee spilled over the sides of the cup in his hand and stained the front of the blue denim shirt he had on. He was still swearing as Lucian plopped himself down in a chair on the opposite side of the desk.

  When Reese swiveled his chair around, Lucian took in the wet spot on his brother’s shirt and lift
ed his brow. “Been drinking long?”

  Reese narrowed his eyes. “Been sneaking up on people long?”

  “I didn’t sneak. You were in a galaxy far, far away, or at least your mind was.” Lucian stretched his long legs out in front of him and settled back comfortably. “So what’s her name?”

  “Whose name?” Reese swiped at the front of his shirt, rummaged through the paperwork on his desk looking for a napkin, found one underneath his quarterly federal tax form.

  “Whoever you were lusting over when I came in. I know the look, Bro. So who is it? Susan Williams? I heard she and Larry split up.”

  “They split up once a week. I’m trying to work here, Lucian. Get lost.”

  Undaunted, Lucian dug in like a dog after a bone. “It’s Nancy Turlow, isn’t it? She came into the tavern last Saturday with Heather and couldn’t take her eyes off you.”

  Reese clenched his jaw, then picked up a pencil and turned his attention back to the ledger on his desk. “If the construction business is so slow you’ve got nothing better to do than sit around and speculate on my love life,” he said dryly, “I’ve got some cracked tile in one of the guest rooms. Work me up an estimate and get back to me tomorrow.”

  “Gosh, thanks,” Lucian said flatly. “As soon as we finish the strip mall we’re building over in Ridgeway, then the four-story office building in Angel City, I’ll get right on that. But for the record, I am here on business. I’m looking for Sydney.”

  “Sydney?” His head came up. “What do you want with Sydney?”

  “Gabe asked me to stop by her place and take measurements on the countertop she ordered from him. She wasn’t there, so I thought she might be here.”

  “Do you see her here?”

  “Nope. But since you won her in that poker game, I just thought—”

  “I didn’t win her, dammit.” Reese pushed away from his desk and stalked to the window. He stared out into the garden, frowned at the sight of Boomer sunning himself on the soft leaves of a lamb’s ear plant. He shook his head, then sighed. “How the hell was I to know that she really knew how to play poker?”

  Lucian stared thoughtfully at his brother for a long time, then slowly raised his brows. “You cheated.”

  “What?” Reese turned sharply.

  “You cheated.” Lucian leaned back in his chair. “I know you, Bro. You can call a good bluff, but you can’t lie to me. It’s right there in your eyes. You cheated.”

  Reese shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “She was winning. And she was so damn smug about it. She just needed to be taken down a peg or two.”

  “And you, of course, were the man to do it?”

  He shrugged. “I never expected her to go through with it. It was…a joke.”

  “Doesn’t look like you’re laughing,” Lucian noted.

  “I tried to call it off, especially yesterday, after she’d worked so hard here at the tavern. I was even going to confess. Then she stuck that pretty little nose of hers up in the air again and for some reason, I just couldn’t let it go.”

  Lucian chuckled softly. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s lust in your eyes, Bro. Who would have ever believed you’d be hot for Sydney?”

  Reese made a rude sound. “Even coming from you, Lucian, that’s about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I am not remotely interested in Sydney that way.”

  Reese’s head went up at a sound from the hallway outside his office, then he relaxed when Marilyn, one of his night-shift waitresses poked her head in the door and smiled. “Hey, boss, can I pick up my check now?” Her gaze slid to Lucian and her smile turned provocative. “Hi, Lucian.”

  “Hey, Mar.” Lucian easily slipped into charm mode. “What’s up?”

  Reese found the woman’s paycheck on his desk while she and Lucian bantered back and forth, then quickly hustled her out.

  “Look, I know I got carried away.” Reese dragged a hand through his hair. “And believe me, I’m paying for it big time. But as far as there being anything between Sydney and me, that’s just completely—”

  “Knock, knock. Little sister’s here.”

  Reese groaned as Cara came waltzing into his office, her pink skirt swirling around her legs and her arms loaded with shopping bags. He might as well have a revolving door on his office the way people were coming in and out.

  “What about Sydney?” Cara asked.

  “Reese has a thing for her.” Lucian rose, took the bags from his sister’s arms.

  Cara hesitated, looked at Reese. “You have a thing for Sydney?”

  Why the hell couldn’t he have been an only child? he thought irritably. “I do not have a thing for Sydney,” he snapped. “Doesn’t anyone in my family work anymore?”

  “Not on Mondays.” Cara brushed her blond hair back with her fingers and sat in the chair Lucian had occupied. She’d once been a private investigator, but now she ran a women’s shelter in Philadelphia founded by her husband’s grandmother. “I brought decorations for the surprise party we’re throwing here for Gabe and Melanie on Saturday.”

  “What surprise party?” Since it was off the subject of Sydney, Reese eagerly pursued his sister’s announcement.

  “We never celebrated their engagement, so Abby and I thought we’d give them a surprise dinner party here.” Cara slipped her flats off her feet and frowned at her swollen feet. “Good Heavens, at this rate, my feet will be the size of shoe boxes by the time this baby’s born.”

  “They’re getting married in a month,” Lucian said, setting her bags down beside the desk. “What do they need a party for now?”

  “Men.” Cara sighed and shook her head. “Of course we have to give them a party.”

  Confused, Reese and Lucian looked at each other and shrugged.

  “Just family.” Cara stretched her feet and wiggled her toes. “Something nice, but not fancy. I’ll work up a menu with Corky.”

  “Work up a menu?” Reese frowned. “What’s wrong with the menu I’ve already got?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your menu,” Cara said with all the patience of a kindergarten teacher. “Abby and I just think we should do something special. Now what’s this about you and Sydney?”

  Reese groaned silently. He should have known she’d come back around to the one subject he didn’t want to talk about. “There is nothing about me and Sydney. She’s just…helping out here while I’m shorthanded. We explained all that yesterday. I tried to let her out of the agreement, but she’s stubborn as a mule.”

  “Honorable is a better word,” Cara said and stared at him thoughtfully. “And if you had lost this bet you’d made, then what?”

  Dammit, Reese fumed. Big families were like small towns, only worse. They wanted to know every little teeny tiny detail of their sibling’s life, whether it was their business or not. But it was one thing for Lucian to know that he’d cheated in the poker game with Sydney, and quite another if his sister found out. She’d have him drawn and quartered.

  Well, she didn’t need to find out. No one needed to find out, for that matter. Lucian might razz him endlessly in private, but he wouldn’t tell Cara or anyone else, Reese was certain of that.

  He just needed to act casual. Nonchalant. He picked up his pencil and entered gibberish in one of the columns. “I would have had to lock Boomer up so he’d stop digging up her flowers.”

  “What kind of a deal is that?” Cara stared at him in amazement. “You should keep him fenced in anyway, deal or no deal.” Cara shook her head. “Sydney’s smarter than to bet something as simple as that. What are you holding back, Reese?”

  He kept his eyes glued to the page in front of him as if it were a fascinating novel. “I’d have to work at her place for two weeks,” he mumbled quickly.

  Now it was Lucian and Cara’s turn to stare at each other in wide-eyed amazement. When they both began to laugh, Reese slammed his pencil down. “What’s so damn funny?”

  “You—” Lucian’s shoulders were shaking “—you
work for Sydney Taylor in her French restaurant? I’d eat a whole plate of those slimy little cooked snails to see that.”

  “How ’bout you eat my fist instead?” Reese rose stiffly and glared at his brother.

  “No violence in the presence of a pregnant lady,” Cara warned, struggling to contain her mirth. “Now, Reese, you’ve got to admit it, if you’d lost, it would have been pretty funny.”

  Yeah, gut-splitting, he thought and sat back down in a huff. “Why don’t you both take a hike? I’ve got better things to do than sit around thinking about Sydney all day.”

  Cara went still, and even Lucian stopped laughing long enough to stare at him. “Thinking about Sydney?” Cara asked, raising her brow.

  Dammit, dammit. “Talking. I said talking.”

  “No, you didn’t. You said thinking,” Lucian said. “Well, well. So you and Sydney do have a thing for each other.”

  “I do not have a thing for Sydney,” he boomed.

  “Of course he doesn’t.”

  All heads turned at the sound of Sydney’s voice coming from the doorway. She stood there, wearing a simple white silk, scoop-necked blouse and a calf-length, dark blue silk skirt. There was a long moment of strained silence as Sydney’s ice-blue eyes met Reese’s, then she moved as gracefully across the room as if she were performing Swan Lake.

  “Hey, Syd.” Lucian cleared his throat. “Ah, I was looking for you.”

  She turned those incredible eyes on Lucian. “Oh?”

  “Yeah, ah, Gabe asked me to take some measurements for the countertop you ordered.”

  She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “You can leave them inside when you’re finished. I have a duplicate set.”

  Grasping at the opportunity to escape, Lucian snatched up the keys. “Well, I’ll just get to those measurements, then.”

  “Could you give me a hand with these packages, Lucian?” Cara quickly slipped her shoes back on and stood. “Just leave the two blue bags. They’re for the party. Nice to see you again, Sydney,” Cara said as she and Lucian moved toward the door. “Please give my best to your grandfather, will you?”