The Way You Love Me

He halfway shrugged. “Can I uh, order some food and sit at the bar?”

Her heart bumped in her chest. She felt slightly giddy. “Sure. I’ll get you a menu. Be right back.”

Justin watched her walk away and was immensely grateful for the anal Judge Graham.

Chapter 2 (#ulink_2c3edcec-7f25-585f-b92e-08ca2d2941d3)

Justin looked over the menu. He was pleased at the extensive selections and finally settled on a porterhouse steak, grilled asparagus and risotto.

“I’ll put this in right away,” Bailey said. “It might be a while. Would you like an appetizer in the meantime?”

“I’m a patient man.” He slowly turned his glass. “I can wait.”

Bailey tried to swallow, but her throat was so dry that she choked.

Justin leaned forward and reached for her. “You okay?”

She blinked away the water that filled her eyes. Coughed. Coughed again and wished that the floor would open. She cleared her throat. Her vision cleared, and she realized that the fire on her hand was Justin’s.

Bailey took a step back, slid her hand away. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. Guess something caught in my throat.”

Justin sat back down. “Well, I would have been happy to resuscitate you had the need arisen.”

Bailey’s stomach danced. There was that half grin again as if he knew something that no one else did.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She walked down the aisle to the other end of the bar to check on the customers and refills and could barely concentrate. What in the world was her problem? She was all twisted over some guy who could be a gorgeous serial killer for all she knew.

“Bailey, can you check the couple on the end while I fix these martinis?” Mellie asked.

“Sure.” That’s what she needed to be doing—paying attention to her customers, making sure that the bar was running at optimum efficiency, not getting all hot and bothered over some guy.

“What’s the deal with the two you were serving?”

“Oh, one of them had to leave. Business or something,” she added noncommitally while she prepared the drinks.

“The one who stayed is yummy. And you know he has his eye on you. You gonna talk to him or what?”

“Mellie...I talk to all of my customers.”

“You know what I mean. He’s hot. I know you have some ‘policy’ about interacting with the customers, but come on, girl...”

Hot. That he was. Her hand still tingled from his touch. But she’d never taken bar talk beyond the bar. To her it was the doorway to trouble, and she didn’t intend to open it. She talked, she joked, she provided drinks and that was all.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Mellie said as if reading her mind.

Bailey shook her head, returned the bottles to their place on the shelf and walked off to serve the customers.

* * *

Justin nursed his drink while keeping Bailey on his radar. Although he’d looked forward to an evening with his friend, he was actually glad that Carl got called back to work. It would give him some space to maybe get to know Bailey a little better. He sipped his drink. Jasmine.

When they’d met more than a year ago and went out a few times, he thought that she might be the one. Both of their fathers encouraged the relationship. Their friends thought that they were the perfect couple, but his brother, Rafe, of all people, was the only one who threw shade on the relationship. Rafe told him in no uncertain terms that Jasmine was the one “for the moment,” but not forever, and that he’d know forever when it hit him. He’d laughed off his big brother’s warning. Rafe was a notorious ladies’ man, and Justin was hard-pressed to take what Rafe said seriously. But as the months progressed, and Jasmine grew more clingy, more demanding and more of what he was not looking or ready for, he was forced to tell Jasmine where they stood.

“Dinner is served.” Bailey placed his meal in front of him.

Justin glanced up from the warm amber liquid of his glass only to swim in the depths of her chocolate-brown eyes. A slow heat flowed through his limbs. “Looks good. Thank you.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Enjoy.” She started to walk away.

“Hey, uh, Bailey...”

She stopped and turned back to him. Her brows rose in question.

“How long does this place stay open?”

“Last call is at one. We close at two.”

He nodded. “Is that when you get off? Two?”

“Yes. Late shift.”

“Then what?”

She tilted her head. “Then what?”

“What do you do after you get off?”

“I’m usually too tired to do much more than go home...and go to bed.” She swallowed.

He forked some risotto.

The smooth crooning sound of Kem’s “A Matter of Time,” moved languidly through the sound system. “Do you get a break in between?”

“Usually...when things slow down.”

He nodded again without taking his eyes off her. “Stop by and check on me when you do.”

“I can do that.”

He lifted the fork to his mouth. “Looking forward.”

Justin put the food in his mouth, chewed slowly, and unthinkable images of his mouth on her body ran havoc through her head.