All the Right Moves - By Jo Leigh Page 0,7
room for the gang of mechanics that took it over an hour ago. Sorry.”
“Damn. I was primed for danger.” The corners of his mouth twitched as if he knew she was trying to discourage him.
“Boy, have you picked the wrong bar.” She smiled, knowing she wouldn’t see him again.
“What’s your name?”
“Cassie.” She noticed how his long tanned fingers fit all the way around the mug. He had nice hands, clean, trimmed nails. “The waitress is Lisa if you want another beer and can’t get my attention.”
“You’ll get that busy?”
“Oh, yeah. Any minute now.”
He glanced around the mostly empty room. “I’m John,” he said as she headed back to her station. “For my tab.”
She nodded without looking back. His smoky baritone was enough to fire up her nerve endings. She wondered if he’d given her his real name, or if it was one he used for pizza deliveries. John seemed too plain for a man who looked like him. She’d expected something more dashing, maybe an unusual family name.
She wrote down his beer, stashed the slip with the other two tabs beside the register and looked up just as Lisa returned from the back. She shook her head, the usual signal for “don’t ask.”
Then Cassie heard the door open, followed by a burst of voices and laughter. It was the hospital gang. Sighing, she closed her textbook and put it away, not looking forward to getting off work then spending the rest of the night studying.
* * *
JOHN HEARD THE VOICES, felt a blast of desert air at his back and turned. At first he’d thought someone had held the door open too long, but people kept coming inside the cool dim bar. The majority wore scrubs, a few still had their hospital IDs hanging from around their necks. Two guys went straight to Cassie while the others claimed three tables in the corner near the No Trespassing sign that hung on the wood-paneled wall.
He figured she’d been exaggerating that the place would get busy, that it was a ploy to get rid of him. He’d gotten the impression she didn’t think he belonged here, and she wasn’t wrong. The loud country music, hard metal posters, questionable bumper stickers plastered crookedly to the walls—none of it was his style. He’d seen the four Harleys parked outside, so he’d known beforehand this wouldn’t exactly be an officer’s club. Which had been the point.
He wasn’t in the mood to do what he always did, expect what he always expected, talk to the same people he always talked to. Something had to shake him from his uncertainty. He’d thought about leaving Vegas, going somewhere crazy. Tahiti or Pittsburgh. But he didn’t want to fly anywhere, not if he wasn’t the pilot. So the next best thing was to change neighborhoods.
The door opened again. This time it was a thirtysomething woman in civvies, who joined the group wearing scrubs. The older rough-looking guys who’d already been drinking when John came in seemed to know the newcomers, and there was a brief but polite exchange before everyone returned to the business of imbibing or ordering from the blonde waitress. Lisa, according to Cassie.
He wouldn’t forget her name. It suited her. Not that he could say why. He didn’t know a Cassie or a Cassandra that he recalled. But with those big hazel eyes, the smooth fair complexion and that sense of humor, the name seemed to fit. Her auburn hair was on the curly side, and she habitually blew at the loose tendrils that seemed to keep getting in her way.
Sipping his beer, he tried to figure out what cartoon was on the front of her T-shirt without being obvious. Her small compact body appealed to him and it would be easy to just stare. The fabric stretched tight across her breasts didn’t help. It made him curious as to whether wearing the smaller size was by design, or if she just hadn’t cared what she grabbed out of the drawer. Her faded jeans looked as if they’d been around awhile, and again, the snug fit made it difficult not to be one of those creepy guys he wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Maybe she wore the tight clothes to bolster her tips. Although in a place like this no one was leaving anything extravagant. She was good with the customers, he’d give her that. She knew a lot of them by name, which was unusual in this town. It was also odd that the bar didn’t have