The Angel And The Outlaw. Ingrid Weaver

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СКАЧАТЬ placed one hand on the door frame to bar the narrow gap he’d allowed and twisted to look at Cooper. “A bartender?” he repeated. He lifted his eyebrows.

      Cooper tossed his pen on the stack of credit-card receipts he’d been going through and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had hoped to have this paperwork done an hour ago. He hated paperwork. He stunk at math. If his schedule hadn’t been so tight, he might have welcomed the interruption.

      “If he isn’t here yet, just tell me when you expect him.”

      Pete returned his attention to the woman outside. “That’s hard to say, ma’am. Cooper’s got a killer commute.”

      “Then I’ll wait.”

      “Let me give him your phone number and—”

      “It’s all right, Pete,” Cooper said. He might as well get this over with, he thought, as he moved from behind the bar. “I’ll take it from here.”

      Pete stayed where he was until Cooper reached him. “Sure, boss.” He let go of the door and gave Cooper a friendly punch in the arm. “But if you don’t want her phone number, give it to me.”

      Cooper had seen the punch coming so he managed not to get knocked sideways. He waited until Pete moved off to begin righting the chairs and setting them on the floor before he looked outside.

      He had an instant of confusion. He’d been expecting Hayley to return since he’d driven her home. He’d been certain he’d recognized her voice—Hayley Tavistock had a throaty way of talking that any man would remember—but the woman who stood in front of him didn’t look anything like the one he’d left six hours ago.

      She was still as blond as she’d been in high school. With all the mud, he hadn’t been able to tell before. Rich curls like the kind he’d expect to see on pictures of angels framed her face and tumbled over her shoulders. She was wearing a tailored jacket the color of cream. The matching skirt ended well above her knees, treating him to a good view of her long legs. She looked classy and sexy at the same time.

      “Hello, Mr. Webb.” She shifted the purse she carried to her left hand and extended her right. “If you’re not too busy, I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes.”

      He glanced at her hand. The mud was gone from that, too. Her skin was pale, her nails clean and buffed to a shine. He remembered how good it had felt when she’d gripped his leg. He wondered how much better it would have felt without the barrier of denim. He enclosed her hand in his.

      As soon as he touched her, his confusion dissolved. She might have cleaned up, but she hadn’t been able to scrub away the tremor in her fingers.

      He moved his gaze to her face. Back in high school she’d been cheerleader-cute. Not his type, yet he couldn’t deny he’d noticed. Problem was, she’d been an underage girl from a family of cops so he’d steered clear. Now she was all woman. She had the kind of bone-deep beauty that even mud and matted hair hadn’t disguised. Her lips were full and shaped in a feminine bow. Her eyes were hazel and tipped up at the corners, as if she should be on the verge of a smile.

      She didn’t appear to be a woman who had smiled much lately. The hollows in her cheeks weren’t from a trick of makeup. And no amount of makeup could hide the weariness that pinched the edges of her lips or the despair that shadowed her gaze.

      Cooper studied her more closely. Her skirt was too loose on her. He realized she didn’t quite fill out the jacket, either. Along with the hollows in her cheeks it all pointed to a recent weight loss. He felt a sudden rush of sympathy. And he had a crazy urge to yank her closer and do what he hadn’t done last night. He wanted to kiss her until her lips lost their tension and her eyes filled with desire instead of despair.

      And he had an even crazier urge to wrap her in a blanket again and carry her someplace safe.

      He dropped her hand and hung on to the door. Since when was he anyone’s protector? She might stir his hormones, but she was an inconvenience, a distraction he couldn’t afford. “There’s not much point talking, Hayley. I already said everything I wanted to say.”

      “All I ask is that you hear me out.”

      “I’m busy.”

      “Tending bar?”

      “Not right now. We’re closed.”

      “That man called you boss.”

      “Yes, he did.”

      “Are you?”

      “Yeah. I own this place. I also work the bar. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

      She shook her head. Her hair rippled in the sunshine. “Why are you going after Oliver Sproule?”

      “What difference does it make as long as I get him?”

      That made her pause. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

      Damn, he still wanted to kiss her. He swung the door open and motioned her inside. “You might as well come in before you draw a crowd.”

      Was it his imagination, or did she hesitate a beat before she lifted her chin and stepped over the threshold? “Thank you, Mr. Webb.”

      “Call me Cooper.” He closed the door and shot the bolt. “I’m expecting a delivery in ten minutes so that’s all the time I can give you.”

      She acknowledged his words with a smile that was too stiff to call real.

      There was a clatter of chairs as Pete continued to clear off the tables. Cooper stepped aside and gestured Hayley toward the door at the other end of the room. “We’ll talk in my office.”

      She remained silent as they walked past the bar, her gaze darting everywhere. He had taken her out the rear door when they had left here earlier this morning, so she hadn’t seen anything except his office and the back hallway. Cooper looked around, trying to see the place as she would.

      Four years ago the building had housed a custom welding shop that had been going out of business. Cooper had liked the location on the outskirts of town since there were few neighbors to complain about noise or traffic. The large, two-story main room had suited him, too. He’d kept the renovations simple, laying down a hardwood floor and installing a rectangular oak bar as an island in the center. He’d also lengthened the existing windows that had been set high under the eaves so he had a view of his surroundings.

      Enlarging the windows hadn’t been all that practical, since the bar’s busiest hours were after dark, but Cooper liked to see outside. It was one of the legacies of the time he’d spent inside.

      Each year he’d poured any profit he’d made into added improvements. Now he had pool tables, a big-screen TV and a top-of-the-line sound system. On Pete’s suggestion, last winter he’d added a raised stage in the corner beside the front door where local talent had the chance to show what they could do. He liked being able to give them a break.

      Cooper was proud of what he’d done with the Long Shot. It wasn’t fancy, but it was solid and getting more popular every year. Best of all, it was his.

      For now, anyway.

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