Kara Lennox - Her Perfect Hero

“Girls?” Tony’s interest immediately picked up.

“Well, women, if you want to be politically correct,” Otis explained. “But one of them was a teenager, I think.”

They were all hoping someone would buy the place and open it up just as it had been. Brady’s business had fallen off some in recent years as newer, trendier bars had opened in Oak Cliff, but none of his regular customers wanted to see the bar change.

“I think we should find out who they are,” Ethan said. “Brady must have family—someone to inherit. He talked about a sister.”

“Tony, go talk to them.” Priscilla gave him a little shove.

“Why me?”

“Duh…They’re female. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you have a certain effect on women.”

Otis and Ethan broke out laughing, but Tony didn’t. Whatever effect he had, it never lasted. His longest romantic relationship had ended after only a couple of months.

“Just go find out who those women are,” Priscilla urged. “They must be related to Brady somehow.Ask them what their plans are. Maybe you can impress on them how important it is to sell Brady’s to someone who’ll reopen it and keep things the same.”

“Ethan, why don’t you talk to them?” Tony argued. “You’re the great persuader around here.”

“Yeah, he managed to convince Kat to marry him,” Otis said drily. “Like she couldn’t have done a lot better.”

Ethan puffed out his chest, as he did at any mention of his beautiful new bride. They’d been married less than a month. “Okay, I’ll talk to the ladies.”

Just then, the door to Brady’s opened and one of the women emerged.

Even from a distance, Tony could see she was gorgeous—tall and sleek, with golden hair that blew in the breeze. She wore snug faded jeans that molded themselves to a body made for love and a clingy cropped shirt that showed off her trim waist and breasts that bounced slightly as she strode down the sidewalk.

She stopped in front of the For Sale sign attached to the front window, then reached behind the iron burglar bars and yanked on the paper until it came loose. She pulled it free and rolled it up, tucked it under her arm, then went back inside.

“Hold it,” Tony said. “Changed my mind. I’ll talk to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Priscilla said. “Watch out, Tony’s on the prowl.”

He gave Pris a disdainful look. “Daralee and I just broke up. You don’t honestly think I’m ready to get involved with someone else, do you?”

Tony’s fellow firefighters laughed so hard at this that Otis nearly fell onto the concrete floor and Ethan had to support himself against the truck.

“What? I can’t believe you’re laughing about my messed-up love life.”

“Messed up,” Ethan agreed, “until the next girl comes along. You’ve been mooning about Daralee for, what, a week?”

“We had a good thing going,” Tony said more to himself than Ethan. “I really thought…” He stopped. No time for regrets. That woman with the gold hair was undoubtedly the new owner of Brady’s, and someone needed to talk to her before she changed anything. “Cover for me if Captain Campeon notices I’m gone.” Without any further hesitation, Tony loped out of the station, darting between cars on busy Jefferson Street, toward the gorgeous goddess of a woman who—unknowingly—waited inside Brady’s to meet him.

Brady’s Tavern occupied a two-story building that must have been close to a hundred years old, and the brick looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned since coal stoves went out of vogue. A flock of pigeons had taken up residence under the eaves and the evidence of their frequent presence covered the cracked sidewalk.

The bar’s door wasn’t locked, so Tony pushed it open. A wall of hot, stuffy air, heavy with the scent of stale beer, slapped him in the face. “Hello? Anyone home?”

A teenage girl bounded up to him like an eager puppy. “Hi. Who’re you?”

“Tony. I work at the fire station across the street. Are you the new owner of Brady’s?”

She nodded. “Well, my mom is. This place is so cool. Do you play shuffleboard?”

“Not only do I play, I was the Brady’s Tavern shuffleboard champion two years running. Where’s your mom?” Surely the woman he’d seen removing the For Sale sign wasn’t this girl’s mother.

“My mom is Brady’s sister. Was. Whatever.”

“Then Brady was your uncle. It must have been tough losing him so unexpectedly. He was a great guy.”

“Not according to Mom. She said he was a drunkard black sheep who couldn’t be trusted with a dime.” The girl rocked back on her heels, apparently not realizing she’d insulted someone Tony had considered a friend. And her mother’s information was outdated. Brady had quit drinking twenty years ago.

“Could I speak to your mom?” He looked around the bar, which seemed strangely empty without the usual smattering of cops, firefighters and “siren sisters”—the female groupies who were turned on by any man who wore a badge or wielded a hose. But he didn’t see the blond woman.

“My mom is at work. But if it’s anything to do with Brady’s, you’ll want to talk to Julie.”

“Julie?”

“My sister.”

Ah. That made a whole lot more sense.

“She’s counting the glasses or something. Trying to decide what to keep and what to get rid of.”

Then he’d better talk to her right away before she did something stupid—like throw away the Daryl Jones memorial ashtray.

Tony heard some clinking going on behind the long carved-wood bar and figured that had to be where Julie had disappeared to. He made his way to the bar, his feet schlup-schlupping with every step on the sticky floor.

Ah, it was good to be back here. Brady’s was lit up like a Christmas tree, with its vintage signs. They covered almost every available bit of wall surface and illuminated the interior, which was crammed full of tables and chairs, pool tables, dartboards—guy heaven. Every corner had a TV, and when the place had been open all of them were always tuned in to a smorgasbord of sporting events.

A lonely silk ficus tree lurked forlornly in a corner, covered with dust. Supposedly one of Brady’s girlfriends had put it there one time, trying in vain to class the place up.

“Excuse me, Julie?”

She popped up from behind the bar, a pair of yellow rubber gloves on her hands. Looking startled, she stared at Tony for several seconds of charged silence. She had the most amazing amber eyes. He’d never seen eyes that color before. She reminded him of a golden fawn or an unspoiled woodland nymph.

“Yes?” she finally said. Her low, sexy voice sent shivers down his spine and a rush of blood through his veins.

Tony shook himself out of his daze. How could he be attracted to this woman when his pain over losing Daralee was still so fresh? It was just hormones playing a nasty trick on him. “Hi, I’m Tony Veracruz. I work at the fire station across the street, and we were just wondering…are you going to keep Brady’s? We saw that you removed the For Sale sign.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Do you want to buy it?”

“Believe me, we’ve talked about it. But the price tag is a bit high for us working stiffs. We just really miss the place—and Brady. He was a great guy. It was terrible losing him so suddenly. You’re his niece?”

“That’s right. Julie Polk.” She extended her hand across the bar’s polished surface, realized she still had gloves on, removed the right one hurriedly and tried again.

Tony took her hand, and rather than shake it as he would a man’s, he squeezed it. It was a lovely little hand, with perfectly manicured nails polished a pearly pink. Tony’s stomach gave a peculiar swoop.