Liam gazed at her for a time, then moved his hand back to her face, sliding his fingers over her cheek. She fought the urge to close her eyes and luxuriate in his touch. After what felt like forever, he smiled and spoke.
“Just because you’ve had trouble following your own advice doesn’t mean it’s not good advice. I was thinking about what you said, that I need to hit rock bottom. I figured I’d give it a shot tonight. Care to join me?”
Her heart leaped, and she nodded.
Liam spied the amused look on Kate’s face as they approached his truck. He opened the door to his old F150 for her. “What?”
“Nothing. I thought you were lying about the pick-up truck.”
“Would I lie about this beauty?” He patted the rusty exterior. “It might look like crap but it’s still a smooth ride. Another plus is the paparazzi expect me to drive a fancy car. When I’m in this thing, they don’t even see me.” She slid into the passenger seat and he leaned on the door. “What do you drive?”
“I don’t have my license.”
“How old are you?” he teased.
“Thirty.”
“Just a few years younger than me. You’re getting pretty ripe, woman. Time to get that learner’s permit.”
She grinned but her cheeks reddened. “I don’t drive because I have epilepsy.”
“Oh.” His face burned up as well. “Damn. I didn’t mean to…”
“Don’t worry about it.” She slapped her thigh in anticipation. “C’mon. Get in the car. Let’s go.”
He wondered about her condition. Were her seizures bad? How long had she suffered from them? Did she take medication? A million questions ran through his head, none of which were his business.
“Hey,” she said when he didn’t move. “Rock bottom’s not going to hit itself.”
“Right.” He shut the door and got in on the other side. As he started the engine, he noticed the way her denim-clad thighs looked next to his. Soft and round, tapering to an elegant knee. It was so tempting to reach over and run his fingers up her thigh. The thought gave him an immediate hard on, one he tried to disguise with an arm casually draped across his lap. Shit, he hadn’t come all this way to ogle Kate Callender’s legs or any other part of her for that matter. He’d come to get shit-faced with someone who understood his shame.
He peeled out of her neighborhood and headed for the Las Vegas Freeway, turning away from the Strip on W. Sahara Avenue. He wanted no flashing lights tonight, no reminders of who he was or where his obligations were. He wanted to be in a place that reminded him of his roots.
Once they were well on their way, Kate turned to him. “Where are we going?”
“A place I know called Franky’s.”
“Franky’s? Wait, I know that bar. It’s a total dive.”
Liam feigned horror. “Which makes it the best bar in town, even if it wasn’t run by my friend. Anyway, if it’s such a dive, how do you know it?”
“Like any professional singer, I’ve done my share of waitressing. One of my friends waitressed at Franky’s. I popped in once or twice.”
“I still can’t believe you’re a singer. So, do you wear a metal breastplate and horns on your head?”
She giggled. “No, I don’t sing opera. I sing torch songs. Piano-bar stuff.”
“Is that so?” Well, well. He still needed a crooner for Decadence. Maybe he could get her to sing for him. Too bad Franky didn’t offer karaoke so he could see what kind of skills she had. He’d never really been of the belief that the universe provided, but something had provided Kate.
“Any chance I’ve heard you somewhere?” he asked.
“Maybe. My one and only claim to fame is being the voice of Calvert’s Used Automobiles.”
“No shit? Those ads are so bad they’re good. You have a sexy singing voice, Kate.”
The roses on her cheeks made her few freckles pop. “Well, thanks, but you might not be hearing much of it in the future. I quit.”
“How come?”
“Let’s just say Mr. Calvert has busy hands and leave it at that.”
He turned, keeping his hands on the wheel, his eyes wide as he was hit with a strange combination of shock and anger. “Are you serious?”
“Yup. I’m officially out of a job.” She then threw him a smile. “Where do you think I got all this free time to bug you?”
“Ah, hell. Did you at least kick the bastard in the nuts?
“Actually, yeah.”
“Good. If you hadn’t, I would have offered up the services of some guys I know who’d be happy to do it for you.” No lie about it. Suddenly, he felt a strong desire to pummel that lemon-peddling shit Calvert.
She cocked an eyebrow. “No need for violence on my account. And anyway, I’m pretty capable in the nut-kicking department.”
“Well, tonight’s on me. I hope you can hold your liquor.”
“Do you always solve your problems with alcohol? You know that won’t work, right?”
“I know, but I’d like to forget one or two things for a while.”
“And how are we getting home afterward, Mr. Forgetful?”
Their banter made him smile. “Well, if we’re really successful at forgetting, I’ll call my driver. Franky won’t mind stowing my truck in his garage overnight. God knows no one will steal it. Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you.”
He could tell from her pensive expression she recalled their last conversation, all of it. “I could always take a bus,” she said. “I have before.”
“Not on my watch.” The idea of Kate waiting at a Vegas bus stop late at night was about the least appealing vision he could conjure up. It gave him a weird, nauseating stab in the gut, like it would end up as an episode of CSI someday.
It was time he admitted to himself that this woman fascinated him in a way he didn’t quite understand. From the moment she’d first set foot on the pavement near Vice, he hadn’t been able to wrestle her out of his head. Part of the reason he’d shown up at her door was the hope that spending an evening with Kate would allow him to see the real her. And that in getting to know her, he’d find something he disliked, and give himself a reason to stay away.
It wasn’t working. He did like her. A lot.
He wished he didn’t. He didn’t have time in his life for romance, or whatever foul desire plagued him. Romance, right. His inflated cock was all about romance right now. No doubt his cock wanted to order her some flowers and recite her some poetry, too.
No, he just wanted to sleep with her, and the slight hitch in her breath when she looked at him told him she wanted the same thing.
He stifled a laugh. As if she’d have him. He was pretty sure she still thought he had horns hidden under his hair somewhere.
They pulled in at Franky’s and parked near the back, right next to Franky’s Harley. While Kate gathered up her purse, he got out and opened her door for her. She put a foot on the ground and grasped his outstretched hand, eyes shimmering with a hint of disbelief. “No one opens doors for women anymore, do they?”
“I just did.”
“Noted.” She slid out of the car, her face still pink. “Crowd looks a little rough tonight. You sure about this?”
A couple of familiar bikers stood outside the front door, taking drags on their cigarettes. “I happen to like things a little rough.” He smiled and put a hand on the small of her back as he led her toward the entrance. She continued to tense as they reached the door, so he put her out of her misery. He called to the bikers. “Beck. Nolan. How’s it going?”
Nolan, a leather-clad bear of a man, smiled from behind his full beard . “Doyle, man. How’s the new place?”
“Awesome. You gonna ditch Franky one of these nights and come see it?”
The two of them laughed, as if leaving Franky’s was a physical impossibility. “Only if you promise to save me one of those pretty pink cocktails with the umbrellas,” Nolan crowed.