Camden and Michael came to the bar often, and they loved to talk. She knew now that Spence was the doctor who rarely made it back home. That made Jackson . . . How could she not have put the pieces together? They’d said their brother bought and sold businesses, that he was reclusive. They’d said he was a good man, but he’d been hurt and they didn’t think he’d ever wed again. Yes, they loved their brother, but they also thought he could be quite cold.
Also, not only was his family ridiculously wealthy, but he had enough of his own money to buy a small country. He owned properties all around the world. Most important, he’d lost his baby, and it had destroyed him. Would he want their child? Would he think it was a replacement for the one he’d lost?
“Alyssa? Are you in there?”
She turned as the knob on the door spun. Crap! She’d forgotten to lock it. The door opened, and one of her coworkers, Samantha, towered over her with concerned eyes.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong? The fire chief is out there. Do you want me to get him?” Samantha kneeled down and felt Alyssa’s forehead.
Alyssa attempted a smile. “I’m fine, Sam. I’m sorry I took so long. I think I just ate something that disagreed with me, but I feel better now.”
Samantha didn’t look convinced. “I can see if Ben can come in and cover the rest of your shift.”
“No. Just give me two more minutes, okay?” Alyssa pleaded. She couldn’t go home. She needed the hours. Like all waiters and waitresses, she couldn’t survive without the tips a packed bar would bring.
“If you’re sure,” Samantha said.
“I promise you I’m fine. Can you take over the Whitman table for me, though? You’ll get all the tips.”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I will, but are you sure you want to give that up?”
“Yes. Please. I’ll take the slower side, since I’m not feeling that well.”
“I saw that the reclusive Jackson Whitman came in tonight. Oh, my gosh, that man is beyond hot. I’ve wanted him for what seems like forever. It’s a good thing that I don’t ever plan on having children, though, because I heard he was brutal in trying to get custody of his daughter during the divorce. I bet if his ex hadn’t died, Jackson would have made her life hell,” Samantha said, loving nothing more than a morsel of juicy gossip.
“What do you mean brutal?” The fear in Alyssa’s stomach made her feel like heaving again.
“He wanted his daughter, and nothing was going to stop him from getting her. When she died, he went slightly crazy. I seriously don’t care, though. He’s hot enough to make crazy work,” Samantha said.
“Why would you be crushing on such a ruthless guy?” Alyssa asked.
“Have you not looked at the man?” Samantha was eyeing Alyssa like she was insane.
“Looks aren’t everything, Samantha.”
“Oh, please,” Samantha drawled with a wave of her hand. “Looks are about eighty percent of it. Plus, the man is supposed to be a god in the bedroom.”
Yeah, Alyssa could testify to that, not that she would ever in a million years share that information with Samantha. “Well, you better get out there and get some good tips,” she said instead, needing this conversation to be over.
“Okay, I’m not going to fight you.” Samantha beamed at her before rushing out. The Whitmans tipped like royalty. Everyone fought for their table, and the other members of the waitstaff were obviously jealous that the family seemed to prefer Alyssa. It really bit to give up those tips, but the farther she was from Jackson, the better. Maybe her luck would turn and he’d be gone when she came back out.
When she finally dredged up enough energy to rise to her feet and return to the circus in the saloon, she saw that her luck wouldn’t win any prizes. Jackson was standing at the bar, and his eyes collided with hers.
Double damn!
Donning her best fake smile, Alyssa spent the rest of the night working her tables, staying as far from Jackson and the other Whitmans as she possibly could. Camden and Michael threw some questioning looks her way, but she just breezed by, apologizing that she had to switch tables and telling them she was terribly busy.
They weren’t buying it any more than Jackson was.
After hanging out for a few drinks, the band left, and then the crowd began to thin out. Alyssa watched the clock, hoping she could get off her feet by 2 a.m. She’d worked a double shift, her stomach was rumbling, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, shut her eyes, and forget all about this miserable day.
But the saloon’s patrons had other ideas, and at last call several people were still inside. Much to Alyssa’s relief, however, the Whitmans had left. At least she was finished dealing with Jackson for the night.
Or so she thought.
Jackson paced the parking lot, his ears pricking up every time the front doors opened and closed. Everyone and her dog seemed to be coming out of the place, except for Alyssa.
Her answers hadn’t satisfied him, and when she’d returned from the back room earlier that evening, after an absence so long he’d been ready to charge back there and find her, she’d looked pale. He hadn’t intended to upset her—he just wanted to talk. Hell if he knew why.
But this woman was the first person to spark his interest in a long time, and he hoped to see where it led. No, it wasn’t going to result in a happily ever after, but if the two of them could burn some sheets for a week or maybe even a month, how would that hurt anyone?
There was no ring on her finger, and no boyfriend had shown up at the bar—not that a boyfriend would stop him. Jackson couldn’t see what the negative was if they saw each other just a few more times.
He obviously needed at least one more night in her arms; that had to be why he couldn’t seem to forget about her. It had nothing to do with her personality—he didn’t know her. Sure, they had talked most of the night and shared a few laughs, and they’d made some pretty spectacular love. But that hardly made her special. It had to be all in his head. If he could just bed her again, prove to himself that it wasn’t as great as he remembered, then he’d get over this ridiculous obsession.
When the door opened again, he nearly hollered in frustration.
“Oh, hi, Jackson,” Samantha said as she sauntered over to him. “What are you doing out here? Having car trouble?”
The sultry look in her doe eyes screamed Bed me. He was tempted to kiss her, to see whether he could feel even a tenth of the spark that he’d felt from just holding Alyssa’s hand.