Beth Andrews - His Secret Agenda

He then raised an eyebrow at the two friends. They both shook their heads.

Holy cow. The man was like some Chuck Norris wannabe. No wonder he’d patted her on the head when she’d tried to talk him out of confronting Harry and his buddies. From what she’d just seen, she wouldn’t be surprised to find out he could’ve taken all three of the younger men at the same time.

Her initial reaction to Dean had been right. There was way more to him than met the eye.

Dean snatched up his hat, sat it on his head and knelt next to Harry, who had come to enough to moan. “Another thing you need to learn,” he told the kid cheerfully, “is not to start a fight you have no chance of winning.”

WHY DID HE ALWAYS GET stuck working with the softhearted ones? In the last year he’d done jobs for both an inner city teacher whose students ran all over her, and a youth pastor in a small town who wanted to save the kids in his flock from the fires of hell. Too bad the kids were more concerned with having fun than being saved.

Dean shook his head and picked out two bottles of tequila from the supply closet. Once Harry had come around, Allie had hovered over the kid. She’d given him ice for his swelling and cut nose, asked if he needed some pain reliever. Then she’d spoken in depth to Harry’s friends, making sure one of them was sober enough to drive. Luckily, the skinny kid was the designated driver or else she probably would’ve made Dean play chauffeur.

“Did you have to punch him so hard?” she asked as soon as he came back into the room.

“Next time someone takes a swing at me,” he said as he added the tequila to the stock behind the bar, “I’ll politely ask him to stop.”

She crossed her arms. “I just hope he doesn’t try and bring you up on charges of aggravated assault. You can claim self-defense, but he might counter that you used excessive—”

“I have a right to protect myself.”

“Sounds like you know your law.”

“I know my rights,” he said, keeping his cool. “You’re the one who’s talking like a lawyer or something.”

She blushed. “That’s because I am a lawyer.”

Even though he already knew about her past as a defense attorney, he played along. “You’re a lawyer and a bar owner?”

“No.” She picked up a rag and wiped off the already clean bar. “I…changed careers about a year ago.”

He leaned against the counter. “Is your career change working out for you?”

She glanced up at him, a loose strand of hair curved over her cheek. “Oh, yeah. It’s been great. Really, really, really great.”

Uh-huh. All those reallys weren’t fooling anyone.

“Were you any good?”

Her eyes grew sad for a moment. “Yeah. I was very good.”

He watched her carefully. “Must’ve been hard to give it up.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in a fake smile. “I needed a change.”

And if that was the truth, the next time some drunk took a swing at him, Dean would let him connect. “What kind of law did you practice?”

“Criminal. So, I take it you excelled in the marines?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to go along with the change in subject. He knew when to let something drop and when to push. Besides, he had plenty of time to get to know Allie. To learn all of her secrets.

Using the broom she’d brought out, he swept behind the bar. “Why do you say that?”

“Uh, because of the way you flattened poor Harry. You must’ve gotten an A+ at hand-to-hand combat.”

“Poor Harry?” Dean shook his head, kept sweeping. “First of all, subduing a drunk civilian doesn’t take much skill. Secondly, weren’t you the one who wanted poor Harry’s butt hauled off to jail?”

She sprayed disinfectant onto the work areas behind the bar. “I wanted to scare him. I didn’t realize you were going to go all Walker, Texas Ranger on him.”

“I’ve worked in a lot of bars. Was a bouncer in a few of them and have dealt with plenty of drunken idiots.” True. Sort of. “And believe me, after a man’s been swung at enough times, he’d better be smart enough to learn how to duck. Or how to fight back.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like Jack.”

Jack Martin, the police chief brother. And, according to the information Dean had from the cute redhead who worked the desk at the motel, the first Martin sibling to run back to Serenity Springs from New York.

“Jack must be a smart man then,” Dean said, picking up the dustpan.

“He is. He’s great.” She took the broom and swept the dirt into the dustpan he held. “But if he asks, I’ll deny I ever said that. As a younger sister, it’s my duty to bug, tease and annoy him mercilessly.”

“I’ll have to call my mother and thank her for not having any daughters.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

He dumped the dirt into the trash can. “I have two younger brothers, Ryan and Sam.”

“You’re from Dallas, right? Is that where they live?”

“Yeah.”

“You must miss them.”

His fingers tightened on the dustpan’s handle. He did miss his brothers. Missed his entire family. It’d been almost two years since he’d walked away from them. But he still couldn’t forgive them. Not yet.

And he’d never be able to trust them again. Especially Ryan.

“Looks like we’re about finished here.” Hey, he could change the subject just as easily as she could. Yes, the best way to get someone to trust you was to pretend to open up to them yourself. But damn, he didn’t want to have this particular conversation now.

Or ever.

Besides, the bar was too small, too intimate when they were the only people there, to talk about family. It was too easy to forget he was working.

“Oh. Right. Hold on.” She opened the cash register, counted out some money and handed it to him. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”

“Something tells me you would’ve handled things on your own.” He tucked the bills into his pocket.

She stepped closer to him. “What would it take to convince you to give up that job in Saranac Lake and work here instead?”

His heart picked up speed. He loved it when a plan came together.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Saranac Lake is farther north. It’s much colder up there than Serenity Springs.” She laid her hand on his arm as she spoke, her fingers warm on his skin. He stood stock-still, his pulse drumming in his ears. His scheme was working almost too well. “Plus, I’ve been up to the Valley Brook. It’s very fancy. You’d have to wear some dorky uniform.”

“For what they’re going to pay me, I’d wear a clown suit.”

She inhaled sharply, as if bracing herself, and took her hand off his arm. “How much did they offer you?”

Since he really didn’t have a job offer, he made up a figure he thought was reasonable. But when he told her, she winced. Then she swallowed and lifted her chin. “I’ll match it. So what do you say?” she asked hopefully.

When she smiled at him like that, his head buzzed. His hands itched to dive into her thick mass of hair.

Ah, hell. What he was going to do next could lead him into a whole mess of trouble.

It’s for the job, he assured himself. To convince her he was just an easygoing cowboy with nothing more on his mind than his next paycheck.

Which was total crap, but he’d hold on to that justification for as long as possible. Because he wanted to touch her, to kiss her before they went any further.

Before there were too many secrets and lies between them.

“I’ll accept the job,” he said gruffly, “in approximately five minutes.”

She laughed. “What? That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” He edged closer to her. She took a step back. Then another, until she was pressed up against the bar. “You see, after I accept the job, you’ll be my boss.”