Nightfall (4 page)

She lifted a brow. “Shall I keep going?”

“Why not?”

Her eyes narrowed, but she complied. “Your demographic may
be small, but they have a good median income and you have the potential of
attracting the business of other nearby small towns if you have something
better to offer them than their current watering holes.

“Your dance floor is run by an ancient jukebox. It’s quaint,
but you could keep the façade and install a computerized system with far more
selections. As you said, you’re the only game in town, and where else are they
going to go, but the current setup makes locals reluctant to spend
entertainment dollars here. You give them a quality place, they’ll drop money,
and I bet you might just attract people coming through town as well. Offer
better food, occasional live entertainment and a fun drink list that’s more
than just whiskey and Coke, and warm draft beer—by the way, your cooling lines
need to be checked—you’ll do better on your bottom line.

“Your bartender and cook are hard workers,” she said.
“They’re just slow and need training. Your other girl can be taught how to pour
a decent drink, if she’s as eager to please as Maria. Once they realize a good
bartender can get better tips than a bad one, no matter the size of her rack,
that will be a good incentive, though Maria’s not lazy. She’s just young and
has lacked proper supervision.”

Pretty much what he’d realized tonight, thanks to her
temporary management. She stopped, leveled those killer blue eyes on him.
“That’s plenty. You already know I’m an experienced bar manager who knows what
I’m doing. I need a job and you need me.”

“Correction. I know you can handle being a bar manager. But
I don’t know dick about you as a human being yet, and that’s part of this job
too.”

A surprising yet very appealing twinkle passed through her
gaze. “I might not qualify in that regard.”

“Let me be the judge of that. What’s your full name?”

“Selene Torres.”

“But you’re not from around here.”

“Not recently. I was working up north, in New York.” She
lifted her chin, gave him an imperious look. “Does that disqualify me?”

Quinn had to swallow a grin. “Only if you talked like you
were from there, which you don’t. Do you have references?”

“Did the man you just threw out?”

As she did the leg crossing thing again, he had to restrain
himself from throwing her on the desk and yanking down her jeans to fuck her
senseless. But she did have a point. “How about this?” she suggested. “Try me
for a month. If I haven’t whipped this place into shape you can toss me back
out on the highway.”

“A month, huh? You think you can turn this place around in
that time?”

She nodded. “I know I can.”

Quinn studied her with shrewd eyes. “I may prefer to work
with cattle, but I don’t have manure between my ears, Selene. You have the
skills of a big-city bar manager. Why would you want to work here?”

“I’m tired of the north, big cities and lots of attention.”

“You running? Abusive boyfriend, something like that?”
Though he couldn’t see this one being slapped around unless it was the last
thing the poor bastard ever did, for some reason the flicker in her eyes raised
something protective in him. That really made him a dumbass.
Don’t get into
trouble you don’t want to invite, Quinn.

“I needed a change of scenery. Beginning and end of story.”
The set to Selene’s jaw said that was all he was getting out of her on that
point. For now.

He let his eyes roam over her again.
Pedraza, you’ve been
without a woman too long.
This could be a worse mistake than Artie. Anyone
could see there was more of a story here than she was telling.

“A month,” he said at last. Scribbling on a sheet of paper,
he shoved it across the desk to her. “That’s the salary. That suit you?”

He expected her to laugh, ball it up and toss it in his face
as she sashayed out. Instead, she scanned it with serious eyes, then nodded,
folded it neatly and reached behind her to push it into her rear jeans pocket,
making him wish he could slide his fingers into the same snug place. Maybe a
couple other snug places too.

“We’re open from seven at night until two in the morning,”
he said. “You can clean everything up when you close and set up for the next
day or come in early and do it.”

“After we close. I like to leave the bar ready to open. But
you don’t need to micromanage. It will just annoy me. You have a problem with
how I’m doing something, tell me. But otherwise, let me run it the way I want.
Bitch at me if the bottom line isn’t what you want it to be.”

God, the combination of her wraithlike appearance and her
go-to-hell attitude turned him on like a six-burner stove.

“We’re not open on Monday. Otherwise it’s a six-day work
week.” He narrowed his gaze. “Think you can handle it?”

“Yes.” She didn’t blink. “But I have three conditions.”

Okay, the other shoe was about to drop. He braced himself.
“Let’s hear them.”

“One, I don’t work before sundown. Ever. I’ll do extra hours
from two a.m. to dawn if needed, but every daylight hour is my own time. I’ll
make sure I coordinate with deliveries and suppliers so that doesn’t cause you
any hassles.”

He’d been ready to point that issue out. Still, he pursed
his lips, unwilling to show her how quickly she’d anticipated his concern. “Not
sure how well that will work, but we’ll see how that goes. Do you have a
problem with daylight?”

“I have a condition that requires me to sleep during a lot
of daylight hours and stay out of sunlight. You can call it vampirism, since
that’s what most people do.”

He gave her an odd look. “Does your doctor have a longer
name for it?”

“That’s my business and not yours, long as it doesn’t
interfere with how I do my job. It won’t. Condition number two. In your storage
cellar, you have a backroom filled with old junk. I want it for a place to
crash. I’ll handle cleaning and reorganizing what’s in it, and furnishing it.”

“I can do better than that.” He hoped he wasn’t going to
regret this. “There’s a two-room apartment above the saloon that you can have
as part of the job. It probably needs a good scrubbing, but if you can manage
for one night I can get a couple of the hands to come out and help with the
worst of it.”

“Fine. I’d like both rooms. If I’m working late nights, I
want to sleep somewhere dark and quiet during daylight hours. Having a cot in
that backroom will give me that. I’ll take care of the cleaning. No need to
pull hands from your ranch. Sounds like you have plenty for them to do out
there.”

“You know, you haven’t told me dick about your experience,”
he said bluntly.

“I watch a lot of
Bar Rescue
,” she said without
missing a beat. “That Jon Taffe, he’s the bomb.”

“Yeah, reality shows definitely set you up with the skills I
saw tonight.” He didn’t smile, but neither did she. “You’re sending me one of
two messages, honey. Either ‘hands off, my past is off limits’ or ‘I’ve already
proven I can do this job, unless you’re too much of a dumbass to see it’.”

“I think we already covered the latter,” she responded, then
flicked a glance over him. “But the hands-off part is my final condition of
employment.”

That look said she wasn’t just talking about her past. His brow
creased. Was she suggesting he needed to keep his hands to himself? Hell,
except for him holding her wrist a couple times, she’d been the one doing the
most touching. Though the chemistry was undeniable. Maybe she’d noticed he’d
been nursing a perpetual hard-on since she’d walked into the bar.

Hell, honey, there isn’t a man alive who could control
that around you, and you know it.
Maybe that was why she felt she had to
reinforce the hands off. Maybe there were guys who’d had trouble with the word
no
.
Well, he wasn’t one of those dickheads.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said, meeting her
gaze head on. “I don’t go where I’m not invited. Ever.”

“Your behavior behind the bar earlier tonight suggests
you’re not that well-behaved.” Her tongue slid out between her full lips, the
tip of it touching the lower one. Her gaze was a lick of flame along his skin.

Oh sweet Jesus.
His balls already ached from her
proximity, enough he knew he’d be jerking off tonight when he finally hit a
bed.

“You misunderstood me,” she said. Her blue eyes did that
laser thing that speared him right down into his scrotum. “Condition number
three.
You’re
one of my employment benefits. And that starts right now.”

Selene knew this was a mistake. She was hungry, and she knew
better than to make decisions when she was hungry. For a young vampire, hunger
was more than a quick carb-protein snack. It was an all-consuming,
all-encompassing need for nourishment. For the body, soul and libido.
Particularly the libido.

She’d actually detected Quinn Pedraza when she first entered
the bar. Amid the moderate-sized crowd of about seventy people, she’d looked
around, seeking the source of that wonderful smell. Red blooded, male, strong.
A powerful man, and not just physically. She’d drawn him in through her all her
senses, the potential nourishment tailored to her specific requirements like a
chef catering her favorite meal.

It was hard to explain how she could pick that out. It was a
skill that wasn’t usual, even for vampires, so she kept it low key in her
shadowy world. But this had been too appealing to resist. She’d targeted that
hallway to the office area and, though she couldn’t see him, she’d known he was
there. He was the only blood in the building she wanted.

She’d always been a picky eater.

God, she was in Texas, of all places. Since most vampires
weren’t attracted to places where the sun could fry an egg on a rock, it was a
good choice. She wanted to be away from where other vampires were, particularly
one vampire. Texas was as far from New York City and Laurent’s normal milieu as
she could imagine without leaving the country. That had been her primary
concern, until she’d seen Quinn and realized the last time she’d really fed had
been three days and eight states ago.

He was the quintessential alpha male, stepping right from
the pages of a Marlboro Man ad. He wouldn’t expect her to know what that was,
any more than he would expect her to be sixty-two years old. But he’d picked up
on the different maturity level pretty quick, as well as some other things she
hadn’t expected.

Though he was attracted to her, he hadn’t let his wits drain
all into his cock. Bad as Artie was, Quinn understood something was off about
her. But, intriguingly enough, he gave off the vibe of a man who had the
courage to find out if that was good or bad…and how he could help. Which meant
she should be leaving tonight, not applying for a job. But she was just too
damn hungry.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, lean-hipped. She’d been told
he was a rodeo cowboy, a rancher, and the rugged face and intimidating physique
were silent proof he was the real thing. His misery being in the midst of all
these people was as clear to her enhanced senses as a man with a flu virus.
She’d already seen enough to know his sloppy hiring practices and the state of
the bar had to do with an overworked, exhausted owner too used to having to
take care of others. If he had a blind spot, it was that he didn’t know when he
needed help.

There was a solid core to him like the stillness of a
mountain. He didn’t look at home here. She suspected if she saw him at his
ranch, she’d see him where he was meant to be. She could help him with that.

She wanted to see him looking a little more relaxed. Almost
as much as she wanted to see the flip side of that. Him bound and stripped, all
those muscles straining against restraints she’d put on him, so she could bite,
suck and lick every inch of skin, tease every scar with her nails, impale
herself on that impressive cock straining beneath worn denim. She’d made it
test the limits of those fibers more than once tonight. He thought his untucked
shirt concealed it, but arousal was as detectable to her senses as blood.

Blood pulsing in his throat, beating strong through his
heart in that wide chest. When she’d leaned close to him at the bar, her fangs
had started to elongate. She wasn’t one to deny herself long, not when it came
to a human she wanted. A male like this.

His warm brown eyes were framed by dark lashes, and his
sable hair tempted touch. When Maria had woken him, Selene had been watching
from the kitchen access. She’d imagined waking him by stroking her fingers
through that hair, tugging lightly. Once those eyes opened, she’d tighten her
grip. Yank. Make fire spark in that gaze the way it had behind the bar when he
decided not to obey her command to release her wrist. Yeah, he wanted a woman’s
strong hand, but he was all male animal. He’d want to fight over it. He was
itching for that fight, and so was she.

When the meaning of her “third condition” sank in, she saw
that spark again. His lips pressed together and he shifted on the chair,
probably to give some relief to that erection that just wouldn’t quit.
You’ll
need my permission getting relief with that, baby
, she thought.
After I
enjoy tormenting you a good, long time.

Her fingers curled in on themselves where they rested with
deceptive ease on the chair arm and her thigh. His gaze kept returning to her
crossed legs, the way she was resting on one hip, the closer one turned up
enough his gaze could trace the curve of the buttock.

She rose. “Does the upstairs have a bed? One we can use
right now to seal the deal?”

His gaze snapped up to her. While New York didn’t have a lot
of rodeos, she’d picked up enough stories tonight to know about eager-to-please
buckle bunnies. He’d be making a grave error if he lumped her in with those.
She wasn’t flirting, simpering or giggling. She was more than an alpha bitch.
She was going to be the alpha, period.

As that unspoken message registered, his expression said he
was warring with uncomfortable feelings about it. He hadn’t yet said yes, but
this wasn’t exactly a verbal kind of contract. Blood, sweat and some
satisfying, sticky sex were going to be the signature on the dotted line. She
was all too aware his unease was coming primarily from how she was turning him
on. It was part of what she’d sensed, what had attracted her to him. This was a
man who’d been required to be in control in all ways from the time he’d reached
sexual maturity. His true power, all that delicious strength and sexual drive,
would come to glorious, raging life with a different tactic.

“As I said earlier,” she said, “I’m not in the habit of
repeating myself.”

She turned away and almost made it to the door. Because she
could move far faster than a human, she was ready for him when he swiftly
closed the distance between them. When he pushed her back against the wall, she
ducked beneath his hold, reversed it, and put him against the wood paneling,
holding him there with a hand curved around the base of his corded throat.

His eyes widened. He’d put a defensive hand on her forearm,
but his touch was gentle. He was gentle with women, even when he was demanding.
He clearly knew how much stronger he was, and she expected he’d never hurt a
girl. Well, not unless she enjoyed it. She saw that in him too, and wondered
how many playful spankings he’d given. But had he ever had his own ass caned?
Had a woman run her lips over every throbbing welt, her slim fingers gripping
his ass cheeks, spreading them so she could play with his rim with her tongue?
She bet he’d buck against the mattress, come, make a mess against his belly and
the bedding.

His touch became a little less gentle, testing her grip when
he couldn’t dislodge her. She constricted it enough to make him feel his breath
labor in his windpipe. Though he didn’t yet realize it, she had at least three
times his strength. For a normal human male, the multiple might be more, but
the man was tough as leather and powerful. She liked that.

“I’m like a rodeo bull,” she said, holding his gaze. “I can
be ridden, but only if you respect how much stronger I am. And how easy it
would be for me to crush you.”

He swallowed beneath her grip, but it wasn’t nervousness.
Not that kind. A different awareness came into his eyes. He had questions, yes,
maybe, but something else took precedence. While she’d expected that reaction,
seeing it come out the way it did was a lovely surprise.

Reaching out, he hooked a finger in the vee of her shirt.
Tugged lightly, encouraging her to come closer. She gave him a step, laying her
other hand on his chest. That large finger caressed the valley between her
breasts, found the edge of her lacy bra. He ran his knuckle over the rise of
one curve, then down between again. The man had a nice, seductive touch, and
she saw that awareness in his eyes, but he wasn’t manipulating her. He just
needed to touch her. He was hungry too.

So she closed the last step, letting her hand slide from
around his throat to behind his neck, finally indulging in a nice dive into
those thick brown locks that curled over her knuckles. As she lifted up on her
toes, he anticipated her mouth, but she nudged against his jaw, making him turn
his head away. She traced his carotid with her tongue, her lips.

He had his hands on her hips, gripping her belt loops, then
he slid into her pockets, making the paper she’d put in there crinkle. His
fingers curved, gripping toned flesh. She made an approving noise as she
reached his ear, cruised across his cheek. He had his eyes closed. Her hand was
tight in his hair, keeping his head still, a message that she was setting the
pace.

“I want to fuck you,” she breathed. “I want to hear you beg
for my cunt. Hear you say
please
in a rough voice. That’s new for you,
isn’t it, Quinn? You were taught to demand, not beg. That’s what women usually
want, don’t they? For you just to take. But sometimes you’d like her to be the
one to do the taking. It feels good to get lost in someone else’s demands. And
I have a lot of demands. You can get lost with me for a good…long…time.”

“Two-way street, honey.”

She was impressed that he’d managed the response, even as
she heard the gruff tone she’d wanted to hear. “We’ll see.” Then she took her
first taste of his mouth.

Oh yes.
This was going to work out just fine. His
lips parted, and the heat of him was welcome, sending a searing liquid rush
between her legs. She’d be welcoming his clever mouth down there too.
Eventually. She pressed harder against him and he accommodated her unspoken
need wonderfully, hands sliding out of her jeans pockets and down to cup her
ass and hike her up his body. He reversed their positions so he had her against
the wall, his hard cock pushing between her legs, rubbing even with the
frustration of two layers of denim between them. When he broke the kiss between
them to curve his muscular back and take a nip at her throat, tangling one big
hand in her hair to tug her head back, heat shot through her. Yes, he wanted
her to take control, but he’d push the boundaries, do some taking of his own.
She liked that mix.

Wrapping her legs around him, she tightened her thighs,
watching his eyes darken at the noticeable constriction around his hips, the
press of her boot heels against the base of his very fine ass. Watching him
deal with Artie, those haunches tight and biceps bunched, had been a display
that only whetted her appetite for more. She wanted to take a nice healthy grab
of that ass and squeeze until he’d show finger-shaped bruises.

“Upstairs,” she said. “Now.”

“Not against the wall?” His eyes glinted with mischief, and
she gave him an arch look in return, digging a nail into his collarbone.

“I like to eat in bed.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The address stilled her, and she saw his gaze flicker,
noticing her reaction, but she let it pass. Too much, too soon. A strong man
who’d denied his true desires, thinking they didn’t fit with his image of
himself, could be easily spooked by them, at least at first. She wanted the
stallion who would come looking for the bridle while still occasionally
fighting it for her pleasure. She wasn’t interested in the horse she had to
break to accept restraint.

He hitched her more securely against him, having no problem
carrying her out of the office despite the fact she knew she was heavier than
she appeared. He went down to the end of the hall, to the access stairway. As
he clomped up the two flights of stairs, she indulged herself by sliding her
arms around his wide shoulders, tightening her hold over them. She ran lips and
tongue along his jaw, rubbing herself against him, enjoying the feel of her
breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

He groaned, stopped to push her against the wall again,
bracing one boot on the next stair up so she was sitting on that leg as he
gripped her hair once more to force a kiss between them. She permitted it.
Frankly, she was getting lost in his passion. She wondered how long it had been
for him. Beyond that, how long had it been since he’d had a woman who’d truly
satisfied him?

The possessiveness that surged through her was unexpected,
setting off some warning bells, but she wasn’t going to get bogged down in the
possibility of complications. All that mattered was right now.

“Gotta let you down, sweetheart. Gotta unlock the door.” He
let her slide down his body, but she straddled his thigh as he did, dipping her
fingers into his front pocket. It was right above where her pubic mound pressed
against hard muscle. When he braced himself against the door frame, pleasure
rippled between her legs. He watched her with a half-amused, half-violently
aroused expression as she fished out the keys, including a nice tease against
the bulge of his ball sac before she pulled the keys loose, dangled them in
front of his eyes.

“Here you are.”

He managed to unlock the door without fumbling, which
impressed her, then he banded an arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet
to carry her through the door and kick it closed. He didn’t let her feet touch
the floor until they reached the bedroom. “It’s dusty in here,” he said,
glancing around. “Probably a few spiders.”

“I’ll protect you from them.”

He snorted, but she could see the concern about what she’d
think of their surroundings. He might be hot and horny as a rutting bull, but
he was a gentleman. She liked that. The bed was draped in a sheet, which he
tugged off to reveal a decent but worn coverlet, a couple pillows with cases
that looked clean enough. Serviceable for a ranch hand or as an army barracks.