Midnight Encounters

  No matter how grumpy she could be, Maggie still liked the older woman and greeted her with a smile. “Hey, Linda.”

  The manager ignored the greeting. “Guys, I’ve been here for an hour and not once has someone gone over to Booth Five to refill the customer’s drink.”

  Looking sheepish, Matt opened his mouth to reply but Linda silenced him by holding up her hand. “You know I have no problem with the casual atmosphere we’ve created here, but we’re going to need to change a few habits and start acting in a more professional manner. Jeremy will be in New York next week, checking out his investment, so it’s time to shape up, all right?”

  Jeremy Henderson was the sole owner of the bar, but as far as Maggie knew, the man had only stepped foot in the place half a dozen times since the grand opening. He left the actual running of the bar to managers like Linda, and the only sign that Henderson actually owned the Olive was his autograph on Maggie’s paychecks.

  She could see, though, why the owner’s sudden decision to pop in would unnerve Linda, who’d pretty much singled-handedly run the Olive for six years now.

  “No problem,” Maggie said, in response to Linda’s order to shape up. She tied her pinstriped apron around her waist and reached for her order pad. “I’ll check on Booth Five and see how he’s doing.”

  As Maggie headed for the booth, she could feel Trisha’s eyes boring into her back. She’d seen that flicker of irritation on her friend’s face, but too bad. Considering Linda had just given them a speech about professionalism, Maggie didn’t think letting Trisha approach the movie star would achieve that.

  Like Trisha said, the mysterious stranger had his face hidden behind a newspaper, which really wasn’t all that suspicious when you thought about it. People read newspapers every day. People read newspapers in bars every day. It didn’t mean they were celebrities.

  “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but would you like some more water?” she said to the Sports section.

  There was no response from the man behind the paper. Fighting back irritation, she added, “Or maybe you’d like something else. A beer?”

  Very slowly, the newspaper lowered.

  A second later, Maggie’s gaze collided with a pair of familiar blue eyes.

  “Hello again,” her stranger said pleasantly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small grin.

  “Oh,” she squeaked.

  Chapter Three

  Oh? Oh? Couldn’t she have thought of anything better to say to the man she’d hopped into bed with last night?

  She tried to look casual despite the incessant thumping of her heart. God, she hadn’t thought she’d see him again. Yet here he was.

  And either she was crazy, or she hadn’t paid close enough attention yesterday, but he seemed to have gotten even better looking. Had to be the clothes. Naked, he’d had sex written all over him, but now, in that leather jacket and faded blue jeans, he looked sexy and dangerous and completely edible.

  As if the hotel-room disaster had happened seconds ago rather than hours, Maggie’s embarrassment returned with full-force, slithered up her spine and settled in the back of her throat. Along with it, though, came a spark of arousal at the memory of how incredible this guy’s mouth had felt on hers. How warm his hands had been when they’d gripped her waist, and how hard his—

  “No need to look so terrified,” he quipped, running a hand through his dark hair. “I won’t bite, you know.”

  Yes, you will. You already did, she wanted to add, thinking of the way his teeth had nibbled on her bottom lip.

  “Um, I didn’t think we’d see each other again.” She lowered her voice so that nobody could overhear. “I guess you’re here for that free drink.”

  “Actually, no.” The other side of his mouth lifted so that a full-blown grin played on his lips. “I’m here to return something.”

  “Return—oh!” She gulped.

  “I know how attached women can be to their panties. Apparently it’s like losing a limb.”

  Was she blushing? Oh yes, she most certainly had to be blushing.

  “I…”

  She would’ve finished her sentence if not for the sharp fingernail that poked the small of her back. The French-manicured perpetrator was obviously Trisha, who gave a strangled cough that sounded like “ask him” before she scurried away. Knowing Trisha would probably bug her all night if she didn’t interrogate the guy, Maggie decided to humor her friend.

  Besides, the chances of her winding up in the arms of a supposed movie star were slim to none, so she was fairly confident betting against Trisha’s farfetched suspicion.

  Still feeling the blush imprinted on her cheeks, she lowered her voice and asked, “This is going to sound absolutely ridiculous but is your name Ben Barrett?”

  His grin faded as if a switch had gone off. “Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. “One of the waitresses here just thinks you’re, well, this guy named Ben Barrett.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “He’s an actor or something,” she added.

  Still no answer. Wonderful. Had she just insulted him? Maybe he was one of those celebrity look-alikes who was constantly hassled on the streets and got pissed off whenever somebody pointed out the resemblance.

  Opening her mouth to apologize for pressing him, she was surprised when he met her gaze and said, “Yes.”

  “Yes what?”

  “I’m Ben Barrett.”

  The apology died on her lips. What?

  “The actor,” he added with a faint smile.

  All she could do was stare. He had to be kidding, of course.

  Are you a reporter?

  His question from the night before floated into the forefront of her brain, bringing with it a niggling sense of doubt. Why had he asked that? Because, really, only a man who was used to having reporters around him would ask if she was one.

  Which meant…

  Oh God, could he actually be not kidding?

  She focused her gaze on his gorgeous face. “Is this a joke?”

  His features grew pained. “No.”

  “You’re really this Ben Barrett guy?”

  “Lower your voice, Red, will ya?”

  Red?

  “My name’s Maggie,” she said, absently playing with the hem of her apron. “And I don’t get it. Why don’t you want anyone to know who you are?”

  “I…” He rubbed his temples. “I don’t want to be bothered. I’ve had a bitch of a time lately, with reporters hounding me. I just want to be left alone.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “So you decided to come to one of the busiest bars in Manhattan on the busiest night of the weekend?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat and then went into a galloping frenzy as his words settled in and warmed various parts of her body. He’d wanted to see her? A complete stranger who’d violated his bed?

  He’s a guy, Maggie.

  Right. Movie star or not, he probably hadn’t been too outraged at being violated.

  “You don’t even know me,” she found herself squeaking.

  “Well, that can be easily changed,” he replied, the grin returning to his rugged face.

  He said it in a voice so smooth with confidence and so heady with sexual promise, her body grew even warmer in response. No, not warm. Hot. Burning hot.

  Hoping he couldn’t see her nipples poking against her shirt, she swallowed, desperate to allow some moisture back into her mouth. “I’m working.”

  I’m working? Again, that’s all she could come up with? What about, Look, you’re hot but I don’t have time for complications right now.

  And she was pretty sure Ben would be just that—a complication. He might be sexy as sin, and yeah, his voice gave her shivers that were completely foreign to her, but there was no doubt in her mind that he was trouble.

  She didn’t have time to play games with a movie star, no matter how delicious he looked. That’s why she preferred guys like Tony. Tony didn
’t have time for games, or much of anything, for that matter. With him, it was simply let’s have some hot sex and see you later.

  “I’m fully aware that you’re working,” he said, his voice snapping her attention back to the present. “I’ve also waited tables myself before, so I’m pretty sure you’ll have a break in a couple hours, right?”

  She nodded. “Nine o’clock.” Damn, why had she said that?

  He returned the nod. “Good. So we’ll talk then.”

  “We will?”

  “Yep.”

  Maggie gulped, her insides swirling with both anticipation and indignation. How arrogant was this guy? He just assumed she’d spend her dinner break hanging out with him? Like she had no other options? Like his sex appeal was so strong she just couldn’t wait to be alone with him and—

  “I’ll meet you out front at nine,” she blurted.

  Then she headed back to the counter and tried to convince herself that the only reason she’d agreed to meet him was to get some answers and that his good looks and sexy voice had absolutely no effect on her.

  Ben smothered a laugh as he watched Maggie scurry away. He wondered if she realized her tendency to blush pretty much eliminated any chance of covering up her emotions. He’d only been around her twice, but Ben was able to pick up on everything she was feeling from that telltale blush on her cheeks.

  Crimson red meant she was embarrassed. He’d seen it last night, and again today, when he’d brought up the subject of her panties.

  Scarlet red meant she was angry, which had been evident when he’d announced they’d be meeting up during her break.

  And rosy pink…well, that was a clear and undeniable shade of her arousal.

  She was attracted to him. He knew it, and he was pretty sure she knew it too. Hell, it would be damn hard to deny it, seeing as the sexual tension had hissed like a rattlesnake the second their eyes met.

  He took a sip of water and reached for the novel he’d tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket. Nine o’clock, she’d said. Left him with a few hours to kill, but that’s why he’d bought the book. He’d tried reading it earlier, when he’d sat in Central Park, but he’d been too tense and too alert. Losing yourself in a paperback thriller was hard when you were constantly glancing over your shoulder, waiting for someone to ask for an autograph, or for a photographer to pop out from the other side of the bike path and snap your picture.

  Maybe that’s why he’d come here tonight. He knew sooner or later he’d have to figure out where to spend the night, but calling up the few acquaintances he knew in the city or attempting to check into another hotel appealed to him as much as having his back waxed.

  Why should he risk it anyway? His so-called friends would sell him out in a nanosecond, and if the other hotel clerks in Manhattan were anything like the guy from the Lester, Ben would only find himself on the news again.

  He’d thought about renting a car and driving upstate, maybe checking into a little B & B, but something had stopped him from leaving the city.

  No, not something. Someone.

  More specifically, the curvaceous redhead whose green eyes kept darting in his direction.

  Damn, but she looked even sexier now that he was fully awake. All that silky red hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be wavy or straight. Those emerald eyes. The tight little body. Looking at her now, he kinda wished he’d asked her to stay in his hotel room last night. Would’ve been a lot more fun than the self-gratification session he’d had to indulge in after she’d left him with a raging hard-on.

  Though he couldn’t really explain it, this woman had been on his mind from the second he’d opened his eyes this morning to the moment she’d walked up to his booth, and now he was glad he’d listened to the strange urge that told him to see her. He’d been on edge all day, but sitting here in this booth with nothing to do but read a book and wait for Maggie to go on break, he didn’t feel as stiff. The tension in his back had eased, his muscles were relaxed, and for the first time in a long time he was relishing in the feeling of being anonymous.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Maggie exchange a few words with that brown-haired waitress who’d been eyeing him all evening. The sight of the two women whispering caused a sliver of unease to pierce through him. Damn. Were they talking about him?

  Was Maggie, at the moment, confirming his identity or denying it?

  The latter became likelier, as Maggie’s fellow waitress frowned, then pouted, then glanced over at Ben with supreme disappointment.

  He stuck his nose in his book to hide a smile. Why had she covered for him? She really had no reason to do that, but the fact that she’d respected his request for privacy pleased him to no end.

  When she sidled past his booth again, he couldn’t help but shoot her a grateful smile. She didn’t smile back, just spared a brief look in his direction and sauntered by.

  Was that annoyance he just saw flickering in her emerald gaze?

  Ben turned around and watched as Maggie maneuvered her way around the large, dimly-lit room, which was slowly beginning to fill up. Most of the scattered tables and wall-to-wall booths were occupied, and a popular hip-hop song now blared from the bar’s speaker system. Since it was Saturday night, Ben knew the place would soon be filled to capacity, but he couldn’t bring himself to duck out just yet.

  He was far too fascinated with the redhead across the room.

  Her ass looked tempting in that short denim skirt, making Ben’s hand tingle with the urge to squeeze that sexy feminine curve. His gaze drifted north, to her slim back and all that wavy red hair cascading down it, and he was startled to find his dick hardening at the sight.

  Jeez. When was the last time he’d gotten an erection from ogling a woman’s back?

  Lowering his eyes to the novel, he tried to shake off the desire raging through his blood, but though he managed to get a fair amount of reading done, Maggie’s presence constantly distracted him.

  His senses kicked into overdrive, trying to remember every detail from last night. How sweet her hair had smelled when it brushed against his cheek. The heat of her body pressed against his. The taste of her lips. The urgency of her tongue. The way her pussy had tightened over his finger when he’d slid it inside her.

  The mouth-watering memories only made it more difficult to keep his cock in check. Finally, unable to concentrate on the thriller in front of him, he closed the book and glanced at his watch again. Quarter to nine. Man, time sure flew by when you were fantasizing about a hot redhead while pretending to read.

  “Do you think it’s him?” came a high-pitched female voice.

  Shit. Even in his fairly isolated booth, Ben knew the two women sitting on the tall stools by the counter had a clear view of him. He yanked on his baseball cap at the same time he heard the two words that made him cringe—“Ben Barrett.”

  All the muscles that had relaxed stiffened again, and his brain ordered him to get out before either of the females at the bar decided to approach him.

  Maggie’s throaty voice stopped him from rising.

  “Sorry, honey, it’s not who you think it is.” She gave a loud, exaggerated sigh that made Ben’s lips twitch. “I thought it was him too, but it’s not. I already asked.”

  “That sucks,” said one of the women. “I heard he’s in the city.”

  “If he is, he wouldn’t come to a place like this.” From his vantage point, Ben noticed that the smile on Maggie’s lips seemed forced. “Big celebrities like that rent suites at the Plaza and entertain high-class call girls.”

  Ben choked back a laugh. He was tempted to march over there and kiss her senseless for the way she’d covered for him—again. Instead, he waited patiently for another fifteen minutes, then stood up when he heard Maggie tell the blond-haired bartender she’d be back in thirty.

  Tucking his book in his pocket, he hopped out of the booth and headed for the door. He breathed in the late evening air. A few moments later, Maggie walked out of the bar. S
he paused near the streetlight by the curb, the pale yellow light causing her hair to appear redder and brighter. Like a halo of fire kindled by the calm evening breeze.

  “Hey,” he greeted her with a smile.

  She, on the other hand, stared him down with obvious wariness in her eyes. And there it was again, that annoyance. What the hell was up with that?

  “Hi.” She held on to the thick strap of her oversized purse. “I have a half hour for my dinner break. I usually grab a hot dog.”

  “Let’s go,” he said easily.

  She nodded and then pushed forward, her high heels clacking against the pavement.

  Ben fell into step with her and cocked his head. “You look angry.”

  She shot him a sideways glance. “What makes you think that?”

  He shrugged. “Well, are you?”

  “A little.”

  “Because I showed up at your place of work?”

  Her hands dropped to her hips as she stopped walking. “Yes. Thanks to you, I’ve spent the last three hours as your bodyguard, trying to keep every female in the place away from you.”

  He had to grin. “I never asked you to do that.”

  “You didn’t have to. You turned white as mayo when I asked who you were, it was obvious you didn’t want to be bothered.” She paused. “Besides, I owe you. Celebrity or not, I still barged into your room last night.”

  With a frown, she resumed walking. He quickened his pace to keep up with her, oddly pleased that his celebrity status was an obvious thorn in her side.

  It sure as hell was a thorn in his.

  “So what do you want?”

  She got right to the point, which he suspected she did a lot. Just another item to add to his already growing list of reasons why he liked her.

  “I told you, I came to return something.”

  They stopped in front of a hot dog vendor, who Maggie greeted by name. She ordered a dog with all the fixings, paid the man, and turned back to Ben.

  “So that’s it? You came by only to return my underwear?”