Power Play. Beverly Long
squinted at the clock. It was a twenty-minute drive from his house. He could get there, make sure she was fine, and be back in bed by eleven. “I’ll call you within the hour,” Trey said.
“I owe you, man,” Anthony said.
Not even close. “Keep your phone on.”
Traffic was very light and he was circling the right block in seventeen minutes. But then he lost a few finding a parking spot. Finally, he was walking up the marble staircase to the second-floor restaurant. There was a young woman in a short black dress with a stack of leather-bound menus. “Table for one, sir?”
Anthony had said Kellie was a cocktail server. “Just the bar.”
She made a sweeping motion with her arm, ushering him through an oversize archway. The carpet got thicker, the music louder and the lighting dimmer. It was a big bar, with two long sides that came to an outward V in the middle. Lots of brass and glass and mirrors that made the most of it.
He took an open spot, three from the end on the side closest to the lobby. There were two bartenders, both males, both probably in their early thirties wearing dark pants and white shirts. One came his direction and slid a cocktail napkin with a lavender L on it toward him. “What’s your pleasure?” the man asked, his tone easy.
“Scotch, straight up,” Trey said.
He turned on his bar stool so he could see the tables in the bar area. They were low and surrounded by equally low couches and chairs. Lots of grays and violets and darker purples. He counted five, no make that six, different cocktail servers. Most had their backs to him as they took orders. They all wore black skirts and white shirts.
The bartender set down his drink. Trey threw a twenty on the bar. “I’m looking for Kellie McGarry.”
There was a subtle shift in the man’s posture. “Oh, yeah?”
Trey nodded. Took a sip. “Looking her up for a friend,” he said.
The man hesitated, then pointed at a server across the room. “Don’t give her a hard time, man. She’s had a rough night.”
What the hell did that mean? Trey wanted to drill him for information but at that moment, the woman he’d pointed at turned.
Long dark blond hair caught the light. Shimmered.
Three steps.
Her short black skirt was tight, her white sleeveless shirt maybe a little tighter. Three more steps.
Her tanned legs were bare and a mile long.
She was smoking hot.
And he felt wildly off balance.
She was no longer a gawky twelve-year-old. Maybe if he’d been at Anthony’s wedding seven years ago, but he’d been in the middle of a tour, unable to come home. If he’d seen her there, he now wouldn’t feel as if he’d taken a punch to the gut.
He watched her go to the far side of the bar and enter her order on a touch screen. She smiled at the other bartender.
Trey picked up his drink, leaving the napkin and his change on the bar. He passed the point of the V, kept going, until he was standing right behind her. She turned, tray in hand, drinks on tray.
Startled, she jerked but nothing spilled. “Excuse me,” she murmured, shifting to the side. Her eyes were hazel and her face was a perfect oval. Her hair, parted deep on the side, swept across her forehead. She wore very little makeup, didn’t need it. Her lips held just a hint of gloss.
“Kellie?” he asked.
She said nothing. But he got the feeling she was just about to run. She’s had a rough night.
He stepped back, giving her some space. “I’m Trey Riker,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m friends with your brother, Anthony.”
Still, she said nothing. And the bartender was looking a little too interested in their conversation.
“I was his college roommate. He was the smart one. He stayed and I decided to go to war.”
“Anthony has mentioned you,” she said. She looked California and she sounded pure Texas.
That and her sexy painted toes peeking out of her black heels were a hell of a combination. But crashing upon that thought was the realization that he was having these thoughts about Anthony’s little sister.
Which was almost as bad as if he’d had the same thoughts about his own sister.
“Your brother gets worried when he doesn’t hear from you,” he said.
Something, maybe regret, maybe frustration, he wasn’t sure what, flashed in her pretty eyes. But then she summoned up a smile that would have made her orthodontist proud. “I hope you weren’t in the middle of something important when he sounded the alert.” She cocked her head, narrowed her amazing eyes. “I think he’s always been secretly envious of your life.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Actually, his brain felt really scrambled. “Are you sure he was talking about me?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. But I didn’t realize you were in Vegas. I thought you were from Texas like us.”
“Been in Vegas about four years,” he said. “I understand you’re pretty new to the area.”
She nodded.
“Anthony’s not going to sleep until I assure him that everything is just fine.”
“Of course,” she said quickly. “I’ve just been so busy. Working, you know.”
“Sure.”
The silence stretched on.
“You’ve...uh...got drinks to deliver,” he said.
“I do.”
He stepped aside. She hesitated for only a second and then walked past him. He caught a whiff of a scent—something dark and complex. He went back to his spot, sat on his stool.
And sipped his Scotch. Trying to get his head straight.
He’d seen beautiful women before. Dated many. And he’d never had a reaction like this.
She delivered her drinks and moved onto a middle-aged couple who had empty glasses sitting in front of them. They smiled, then shook their heads. Next stop was a table of three young men. All had beer bottles in front of them, all seemed to be talking at the same time, waving their arms.
And then one arm reached out and a hand landed on Kellie’s hip.
He was half off his stool when she gracefully edged away, efficiently clearing up empties. She came back to the bar, set the bottles down and waited to get three fresh ones. Didn’t look his direction. He discreetly picked up his phone, clicked on the camera and took a picture of her. Then he sent the photo of Kellie to Anthony. He added, Eyes on little sister. Working at Lavender. Said she will call you soon.
Within seconds, he had his reply. Thank you. Now I can go to bed.
Which is where he probably should be. But Kellie was on her way to deliver beers to the table of drunks.
When she set down the bottles, she was careful to stand on the other side of the table, away from the idiot who wanted to play grab ass. The man kept his hands to himself but Trey didn’t like the looks he was giving Kellie. And when he said something that she appeared to ignore, Trey wanted to be closer so that he could hear.
Trey nursed his drink. Kellie moved away from the drunks and slid easily between other tables, clearing glasses, discreetly offering checks in little padded folders. It was fifteen minutes before she walked his direction.
“It was good of you to come check on me,” she said. “Really.”
He got the distinct impression she was trying to get him out of the bar. Wasn’t that interesting? “The