his arm with a fabric swatch. “Do you want my help with this project, or not?”
After that, an element of flirtation crept into their bantering exchanges. Darcy’s laughing gaze slipped now and then to her breasts. Or even more provocative, held her gaze. She began to feel a little breathless. This was dangerous. What she’d always found hard to resist with Darcy was the fun he put into life.
Even something like decorating a pub could be exciting with him involved. She should be doing her term paper not lounging in bed, talking and joking, admiring his dancing dark eyes and the lazy way he sprawled, broad shoulders at an angle, one leg bent at the knee. The other leg hung half off the end of the bed, foot jiggling in that way he had of always being in motion.
Well, the paper could wait a little longer.
* * *
AS DARCY SAW IT, anyone could be a bartender dispensing drinks, but it took a special personality to be a publican. His father had had the knack of talking to anyone, rich or poor, educated or not, as though they were his most important customer. Darcy had it, too. Now Billy, the third generation Lewis male, watched avidly from a front-row seat strapped to Darcy’s chest. Of course, with Emma’s smarts, Billy might not be interested in the pub. He might become a doctor or a veterinarian or even an interior decorator.
According to Emma he had colic and cried every night for hours. Darcy believed her but for some reason, since he’d been staying at the pub, Billy didn’t cry—as long as he was being carried face-out in the baby carrier.
The kid was a babe magnet. Three young women, all glammed up for a girls’ night out, cooed over him and flirted with Darcy every time he moved to their end of the bar. They’d said when they came in they only planned to stay for one drink before heading to Frankston’s club scene, but he’d just mixed them a second round of cocktails. Forget renovations, maybe male waiters accessorized with cute babies were all he needed to improve business.
“Hey, Darcy, can I borrow your kid?” Ron, the real estate agent from down the block, leaned on the bar in his rolled-up shirtsleeves.
“Sure, he’s due for a diaper change.” Darcy laughed at Ron’s grimace and removed an empty highball glass. “Same again?” He poured Ron another bourbon and moved along to Tony and his girlfriend, Cerise, a bouncy brunette with sparkling eyes who gazed adoringly at Tony. Tony couldn’t keep his hands off her. Ah, young love. Wouldn’t it be great to be that innocently happy again?
“Another round?” he asked the couple.
“One more, please.” Cerise pushed her empty cocktail glass across the bar, turning to Tony. “Then we have to go to the rehearsal dinner.”
“Her sister’s getting married,” Tony explained to Darcy. “Giving her ideas.” Cerise dug him in the ribs with her elbow and he grabbed her hand to hold it. “I’ll try a Red Hill pilsner this time. These new beers you got are ace.”
“I aim to please.” Darcy cracked a bottle, poured it into a glass and set it on a fresh cardboard coaster. It wasn’t a bad thing that he was having to lift his game now that the wine bar had opened.
He picked up a towel and started to dry glasses, ignoring the trio of girls and their batting eyelashes. Even sick, Emma had it all over them. He recalled his daring taste of her exposed nipple. Too bold? Hmm, maybe not, if the gleam in her eye was anything to go by.
Bold or not, taking Emma’s breast into his mouth had been stupid and reckless, like a child playing with matches. They’d had their day and called it quits for good reasons, reasons that hadn’t gone away.
A sudden cheer rose from the crowd of guys watching the football quarter finals. Their team must have got a goal. He concentrated on polishing the glass. Football didn’t interest him anymore.
“...surprised you let that dude in here with those,” Tony said.
“Sorry, what was that?”
Tony nodded over his shoulder at a pudgy youth moving through the bar handing out flyers to every person at each table. “He was at the fish-and-chip shop earlier. He’s working for the wine bar.”
Darcy put down the glass, lifted the divider and rounded the end of the bar in a few strides, remembering to hold Billy’s head steady. “Here, what are you doing? What are those?”