When a va-va-voom redhead walks into Luke Hurley’s bar, he vows to get to know her. But she escapes him every time, her family besieging her. Luke wants to save her. Hell, he wants to savor her if he can only figure out how to intrigue her…and nail her. Luke has his hands full of the classiest, funniest female he’s ever met for one naughty night. But will she love him tomorrow?
“I know. I can explain. I don’t have much time, but—”
Someone shouted out that he had to stop holding hands with the bombshell and take his order. Where was his assistant bartender? He looked around but tugged at Rita’s hand. The irate customer yelled that he needed another round of beers.
“Okay, okay!” Luke told him, but zeroed in on Rita. “I want to call you. Ask you to dinner or drinks. Coffee, anything. I need your phone number.”
“Really? Oh, Luke, please let me—”
“I have to do this before you disappear on me again. Give me a minute to find a pencil and pad. And by the way, that gown is unbelievable.” He had to tame his voice so he could speak about the gold-sequined mermaid thing. “I think I just went blind. Don’t move.” He raised a finger and strode toward the register.
Finally, items in hand, he pivoted and stepped toward her.
But her son and Blondie appeared beside her. Blondie was pouting. The son was raking his hair.
“I’m sorry. Tamara,” Rita bit off the words, never looking at her future daughter-in-law as she took Luke’s pen and wrote on his paper. “But I am the one who brought up Josh. And I will sit in the first pew. If you or your parents don’t like it, too bad. And Josh, if your father or his new wife don’t like it, tough.”
Luke watched the family drama, realizing why he hadn’t been able to learn Rita’s name. She was the divorced wife of Mr. Silver-haired Banker. And judging from the close ages of stepmother and son, Rita might actually be wife numero dos.
The son cursed. “Tam, I want her to sit in the front pew, and she will. Sasha couldn’t raise a puppy. This is my mother, and she deserves to take precedence.”
Ouch. Luke couldn’t help but look at Rita, who locked her gaze on his and grinned.
Blondie stomped her foot. “I won’t do this to my daddy. He wants this to look good for his friends. You know how he is about marriages made in heaven and no divorce.”
“Well, Tam, next to golf, divorce is my father’s favorite pastime,” Josh retorted, as Blondie huffed and made a beeline toward the door. “Aw, hell. Mom, what can I do here?”
Before Rita could answer, he fled. Then, to Luke’s dismay, Rita raised her hands in frustration, threw him an apologetic look, and followed her son.
Wanting to yell, Luke pounded his fist on the bar and the pad of paper jumped with the blow. Numbers and words bounced around. He grabbed the sheet.
Room 428. Rita.
“Ricardo!” Luke called out to his assistant, as he ripped off his bar apron. “Take over here.”