At Your Service (Silhouette Desire) Read online

  “You’re Too Hard To Resist.”

  With a wolfish smile, Tyler reeled her in close and she knew he was going to kiss her in front of the entire bar.

  And because she wanted him so badly, could feel herself rising up on to her toes to lean in to his kiss, she panicked.

  Next time, hit him with this.

  Susannah’s words raced through her head, along with the fleeting thought that later on she’d regret this, before she reached out blindly with one hand. She had only a moment to realize that she’d grabbed the dirty spoon Tyler had been using to stuff olives with blue cheese and then she was rapping it sharply against his skull.

  Tyler rubbed his head and grimaced as he smushed the blue cheese in his hair.

  The crowd of onlookers had doubled in number. She threw her hands in the air. “His mother told me to do it,” she announced, and marched out from behind the bar with whatever dignity remained intact.

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to another compelling month of powerful, passionate and provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire. You asked for it…you got it…more Dynasties! Our newest continuity, DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS, launches this month with Barbara McCauley’s The Cinderella Scandal. Set in Savannah, Georgia, and filled with plenty of family drama and sensuality, this new twelve-book series will thrill you for the entire year.

  There is one sexy air force pilot to be found between the pages of the incomparable Merline Lovelace’s Full Throttle, part of her TO PROTECT AND DEFEND series. And the fabulous Justine Davis is back in Silhouette Desire with Midnight Seduction, a fiery tale in her REDSTONE, INCORPORATED series.

  If it’s a whirlwind Vegas wedding you’re looking for (and who isn’t?) then be sure to pick up the third title in Katherine Garbera’s KING OF HEARTS miniseries, Let It Ride. The fabulous TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE STOLEN BABY series continues this month with Kathie DeNosky’s tale of unforgettable passion, Remembering One Wild Night. And finally, welcome new author Amy Jo Cousins to the Desire lineup with her superhot contribution, At Your Service.

  I hope all of the Silhouette Desire titles this month will fulfill your every fantasy.

  Melissa Jeglinski

  Senior Editor,

  Silhouette Desire

  AT YOUR SERVICE

  AMY JO COUSINS

  AMY JO COUSINS

  loves words of all kinds, and her love of reading naturally led to a love of writing. Amy also has a passion for languages and there’s nothing she likes better than learning a new language and using it to explore the history of a foreign country, whether standing on the beaches of D Day in Normandy or outside the Olympic Stadium in Munich.

  Her collection of books is slowly crowding her out of her home, although her cat seems more than willing to fall asleep upon the various piles. Other than that, Amy loves learning how to do anything that takes her outdoors and away from her computer, including kayaking, sculling, rock climbing and landscape water painting.

  For all the women in my life, but most of all for the number-one diva-queen-goddess, my mother.

  Not many people would know that in her heart of hearts, what an eleven-year-old girl dreamed of was an electric typewriter, new or used. Thank you for always managing to give me everything I needed to pursue everything I wanted.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  One

  “Trust me, buddy. You want me. You need me. I know it, and you know it. Just give in to the inevitable.”

  Grace crossed the fingers of one hand behind her back and stuck her other hand across the bar to shake on it. The man behind the recently varnished oak counter, with the hooded, skeptical eyes and the sculpted mouth pressed closed, just stared at her. She hoped he didn’t notice that her hand was shaking.

  The man—Tyler, she assumed, since the banners outside read Tyler’s Bar & Grill, Grand Opening Tonight—kept his unreadable, unnerving eyes on her. She was certain that a less welcoming face had never frowned on a more desperate, out-of-work woman in the world. She tugged on her newly blond hair and considered walking back out the front door before she made a complete fool of herself.

  Then she remembered her original reason for walking in the bar. She’d needed change for the bus, because the only thing filling out her wallet was a single twenty-dollar bill. A job started to sound pretty good when a girl was down to her last twenty.

  She kept her hand hanging out there over the bar and prepared to outwait this Tyler. After two weeks in hiding, she was out of options. When she heard her grandmother’s voice echoing in her head, Grace wasn’t surprised. She blinked back the reflexive tears and stretched her smile a little wider.

  You’re a Haley, girl, and do not forget that. You have a genetic history of ancestors who defined the word tenacious.

  Grace knew that in all likelihood she still wouldn’t have had the nerve to face off against the ridiculously handsome man behind the bar, except for one thing. As she’d entered the bar, she’d had to squeeze past what looked like an entire Mexican family, all ripping off long white aprons and shouting in gleeful excitement. If her Spanish was good enough, she thought they were calling out apologies to Señor Tyler because they were leaving for Acapulco immediately, their cousin having won the state lottery.

  Tough break for this Tyler on his opening night.

  She’d feel sympathetic after she talked herself into a job, thank you very much. The muscles in her shoulder were starting to tremble from the effort of keeping her hand hanging in midair, but she’d be damned if she’d let Mr. “I’m So Sexy” behind the bar see that.

  Not even 10:00 a.m., Tyler thought to himself, and his day had already been flushed down the toilet. He was happy for the Garcias—it wasn’t often that good people got such a lucky break—but having no staff did put a bit of a crimp in his Grand Opening plans.

  He’d work it out, make some phone calls, call in some favors. But all that would take time, something he was rapidly running out of. Meanwhile, he had enough to do without dealing with the runaway teen staring determinedly across the bar at him.

  She practically had desperate tattooed across her forehead. The shadows under her lake-blue eyes gave her an almost painful look of fragility. And although her hair was gloriously, deeply blond, with just enough of a hint of wave to make it slide around her cheekbones and chin and shoulders like a caress, he’d seen her tug on the ends sharply after making her ridiculous proposition. This girl was nervous enough for three ex-cons on the lam.

  He felt bad about it, and took that as some consolation that he wasn’t an irredeemable jerk on the sliding scale of morality, but he just didn’t have time for that much trouble today. He’d been working toward this day for almost ten years, and if he wanted it to go smoothly, he didn’t have time to baby-sit.

  “Sorry, darlin’,” he said gently, and waited to see her face fall into tears from the bold front she was putting on now. Maybe he could make it seem less personal. “You have to be over twenty-one to serve drinks in Chicago.”

  To his complete surprise, she laughed. Out loud and with real humor, the laughs rolling up from her belly and out past her lips in a ringing music that made him wonder what it would take to see her laugh again.

  “Thank you, darlin’,” she said, still smiling. And damned if he could stop himself from smiling back. “But if you’re trying to make my day better, I’d rather have the job than the compliment.”

&n
bsp; “The compliment?” he asked.

  “Tyler—you are Tyler, aren’t you?” At his nod, she continued, still grinning sassily. “Well, Tyler, I could hit thirty with a short stick. So if you were trying to be tender with my feminine sensibilities, don’t bother. I can’t afford ’em.”

  It was as if she’d flipped a switch. Tyler wasn’t sure what had happened, but suddenly his runaway teenager had transformed herself into the image of the smart-aleck, funny, tough woman that was his favorite kind of waitress. When she’d walked in the door of the tavern as the Garcias walked out and told him that he was going to hire her because he needed her, she was rolling on bravado alone. He’d read it in bold print across her face.

  But now the confidence was real, the humor was genuine. This blond angel was still just as easy to read, only now her face said, I’ve been there, done that, and you can’t even imagine what you’ll be missing if you let me get away from you now.

  Still, maybe confidence that appeared so quickly would disappear just as fast. So he watched her, again, as he spoke.

  “I was trying to find a nice way to tell you to get lost. I don’t have a job for you.”

  “Nice try, buddy.” She retracted the arm she’d held out over the bar, waiting for a handshake, and shook out her muscles. Her eyes pierced him like a pin through a bug on a collector’s mat. “Since you’re being stubborn…you just let me know when you’re ready to shake on it.”

  She pulled out one of the narrow-backed bar stools, turned it around and stepped up to straddle it in a move that had him choking on his tongue, so suddenly did the image flow into his head of her naked and swinging a leg over him in the same arrogant way.

  Get a grip, Tyler, she’s looking for a job, not a bedmate, he thought. Then he watched her brace her elbows on the seatback, lace her fingers together and rest her chin on them. She licked her lips slowly, slowly enough that he could imagine what it would feel like to have her tongue gently tracing his own mouth before opening to him. The gleam in her eyes should have warned him.

  “I want two bucks over minimum wage.”

  “What?” The outrage was genuine enough to take his mind off of her mouth. “Waitstaff get two bucks less than minimum, with tips to make up the difference, and you’re crazy if you think you’re getting any different.”

  “Yeah, well it looks to me like you got a problem here, Tyler. You got no staff, period. And since I’m the only one banging down your door looking for a job…”

  She stared across the bar at him. He stared back. Somehow he’d gone from shooing her out the door to negotiating her hourly wage, and he hadn’t even said he’d hire her yet.

  Damn, she was good.

  “Look, it’s really a bargain, if you think about it. I’ll be playing host, waiter, busboy and most likely dishwasher, too. At least at first. You’re getting four employees for the price of one.”

  “Sounds like I’m getting four employees for two bucks over minimum. That’s a lot higher than one measly server.”

  “Like I said, darlin’—” She shook back her hair and sat up straight. “You need me. You want me. You know it and I know it.”

  The trouble was, she was right. He did need her, and he did want her. And if he needed and wanted for two different reasons, then that was his problem. The boss sleeping with the help was the fastest way to lose good workers. And he’d already learned how quickly a woman tired of a man who spent more time with his business than he did with her. He wouldn’t be walking down that road again.

  He listened to his own thoughts and gave up the battle. He’d already decided to hire her, assuming her references panned out. He didn’t really have much of a choice.

  “Just give in to the inevitable, hmm?”

  “You got it,” she said, and winked at him. And Tyler was sold. She was perfect.

  “Where have you worked before here?”

  The question was a casual one, meant more to be social than as a background check. Anyone who’d waited tables for a month or two would be able to handle his straightforward menu and small seating area. So he was a little curious when she paused before answering him.

  “At a diner.” He watched her tug nervously on her hair again before shrugging at him from across the bar. “We were open twenty-four-seven. Heavy late-night and breakfast crowds. But you could do your nails and the New York Times’s crossword between noon and midnight.”

  Something indefinable, something suddenly not quite right, kept him asking questions.

  “What was the name of the place?”

  Again the hesitation. And when she answered him, he knew he had her.

  “Mel’s Diner.”

  Grace saw Tyler’s eyes widen, in disbelief, she assumed, and cursed herself for a fool. She should never have walked in here without laying out her story beforehand. When he’d asked her that stupid question, her mind had blanked and she’d blurted out the first thing that had popped into her head.

  If she didn’t think fast, she’d lose this job before she had a chance to tie on an apron.

  “Mel’s Diner? Oh, darlin’, that’s rich.” For the first time since she walked in the door, he turned his back on her and went back to stocking glasses on the shelves behind the bar. “You had me believing you, too. But watching a bunch of wise-talking, butt-shaking waitresses on a 70’s TV sitcom does not make you one. Nice try, sweets, but no cigar.”

  Grace rolled her eyes in frustration and tried to think fast, something that was definitely easier without his eyes on her. Did the man have to be gorgeous enough to make it difficult for her to think straight? She knew that in her old life she would have handled someone like Tyler without flinching, secure in her job, her family, her position in the world.

  But now she had no job and no family to help her define herself. And she couldn’t very well tell the man that up until two weeks ago she’d been in charge of eleven of the top-grossing restaurants in Chicago. She was stuck with lying, and knowing she wasn’t very good at it made her nervous. Looking at Tyler made her even more nervous.

  Get a grip, girl, she told herself. You have no backup here, no money and no choice. She’d managed to talk herself most of the way into a job by imagining what her grandmother would have said if she were stuck in this bizarre situation and pretending to be her. So she’d just keep doing that until she convinced this Tyler to hire her.

  “You think that’s funny, huh?” She made her voice sound loud and confident and just a little bit annoyed. “It’s not so amusing when the guy who hires you hands you a pink dress and a frilly white apron as a uniform and tells you that you get a bonus if you say ‘Kiss my grits!’ once an hour.”

  After a moment Tyler turned slowly back around to face her and she saw him fight to keep the smile under wraps. She’d really put her heart into the imitation of the TV waitress, Alice, and knew the voice sounded funny coming out of her mouth.

  “Did you chew gum?”

  She drew a cross over her heart with one finger. “It was part of my job description.” She paused. “My manager had a cardboard cutout of Alice standing by the front door. He kissed it every night when he left. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.”

  And then he did laugh, and she knew she was safe. She’d pulled it off. The relief was strong enough to make her glad she was sitting down.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Grace,” she said. The feeling of having escaped from danger was overwhelming, but she still remembered to use her mother’s maiden name. “Grace Desmond.”

  The danger returned with Tyler’s next words.

  “Okay, Grace Desmond. Consider yourself hired. Grand Opening is at 5:00 p.m. tonight, so show up back here at three and we’ll fill out your paperwork. Bring your license and some other kind of ID, and an apron if you have one. If not, I’ll give you one.”

  Grace was shaking her head yes, in agreement, even as her mind started to panic. There was no way she could show this man her driver’s license. Even if he didn’t re
cognize her family name as one of the most prominent in Chicago, the address on her identification was not one a diner waitress could possibly have. Not unless she had a wealthy benefactor.

  Tyler stretched a hand across the bar, ready to shake on it at last. For a moment Grace just stared at his hand, wide-palmed and strong, showing scars around the knuckles that spoke of hard work and harder play. Then she reached out and fit her own, smaller hand into his and shook on her new job.

  When she tried to pull her hand away, he didn’t let go. She glanced up sharply at him, concerned. His dark eyes seemed to swallow all the light in the room as he leaned forward, gaze locked on her face, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. She could feel the shape of his mouth on her fingers, the dampness of the inner edge of his lips catching on her skin. All over her body, muscles froze tightly in place to keep from shivering as Tyler slowly dragged his lips from side to side just once.

  “And I’ll need a reference. Before you leave.”

  She waited until she turned the corner and was sure he couldn’t see her from the bar windows before breaking into a run. She’d gone at least two blocks without seeing a pay phone anywhere when she remembered the cellular phone in her purse.

  Surely they couldn’t be tracing her cell phone. Wasn’t that impossible? Grace decided to keep the conversation short.

  She dug the phone out, flipped it open and dialed the number from heart. While she listened to the electronic rings chirping in her ear and prayed that Paul would be home, she remembered the look in Tyler’s eyes as he’d folded up the napkin on which she’d written the name and telephone number of her reference. She didn’t know if he was trying to intimidate her into the truth or to seduce her, but she was afraid that he might do both.