“You have to do something!” she demanded when they’d stopped well away from Paul.
“About what?” Colin was watching her like Steve had watched her earlier, as if she was the most fascinating creature in the world. Except, when Colin did it, she felt a warmth seep into her belly that she did not feel when Steve did it.
“About Paul,” she explained, her voice showing her aggravation at his obtuseness just as it hid her reaction to his proximity. “If he comes here every night and gets that inebriated, he’s clearly an alcoholic. You can’t keep serving him.”
The deadly-delicious grin was back. “He’s our best customer.”
Sibyl was appalled.
“Mr. Morgan, that is just… completely just…” she was at a loss for words then she found them, “morally irresponsible.”
The grin turned into a full-fledged, white smile, the wattage amping up so high, Sibyl was nearly dazzled.
Although he was barely a foot from her, he leaned in closer.
“Morally irresponsible?” he repeated.
She could swear his tone was teasing.
Teasing!
Was this the man who had held her hostage, forced her to undress in front of him, accosted her in his entryway and shouted and cursed at her in his library?
Yes, she reminded herself, it was.
She straightened her shoulders.
“We must look after our neighbours,” she lectured.
“Really?” he asked, his eyes dancing and not with the jumping lights in the club.
“Yes, especially you,” Sibyl informed him.
For some unknown reason, he was walking around her and she had to turn in a staccato pirouette to follow him.
“Especially me?” he asked, stopped abruptly and took a quick step forward in a way that was predatory. This caused her to take a step back and, when she did so, she hit a wall. His hand came up to rest beside her head and he leaned into her again. She had the wall of the club to her back, him to her front (close to her front) and his arm imprisoning her on the right.
She was trapped.
Her mind screamed for flight but she stood her ground. “Yes, especially you. As the owner of this club –”
“Part owner,” he interrupted her, still smiling as if she was highly entertaining.
“Part owner,” she amended quickly and steeled herself against that smile and the annoyance she felt at his obvious amusement. “You have responsibilities.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “You’re absolutely correct. I’m responsible for keeping the money coming in.”
She spluttered at this outrageous, yet teasing remark then saved herself by taking a deep breath. “You also have a responsibility to your patrons.”
He leaned closer then stopped but if he came further forward, even an inch, he’d be kissing her.
She held her breath.
Colin stared into her eyes.
Then he said, “Paul doesn’t drive drunk. He has a standing order for a taxi to pick him up at midnight every night. He’s a wealthy businessman who doesn’t touch a drop during the day, I know because I have dealings with him. He has a wife who’s an inveterate cheat and consummate liar who spends money almost as fast as he can make it and he buys a drink for every attractive woman who enters this club. He’s a decent man, most of the time, considering, and is mostly harmless.”
Sibyl was shocked he knew so much about Paul. She was further stunned that he took the time to explain this to her, calmly and rationally. She’d never had dealings with a calm, rational Colin Morgan. She didn’t like it because she did like it and that played havoc on her very soul.