A Man For Marley Read online

  As they rounded the corner, Marley paused in surprise. He wasn’t joking when he said he drove a truck. This wasn’t some pared-down pick up truck.

  No, this was a full-size Ford Bronco. Small wonder he had a hard time finding a parking place. Peeking into the back, she noticed it was also full of stuff. She could see a cooler, a sleeping bag, a few duffle bags, a radio, and some grocery bags filled with canned goods. Did he live in this thing?

  He opened the door for her, and she waited for him to walk around to the other side and get in. He just stood there with his hand on the door, looking at her expectantly.

  “What?” Marley knew she sounded peevish, but couldn’t help it.

  “I’m waiting for you to get in so I can close your door like a gentleman should.”

  “Oh, well, let’s not pretend you’re a gentleman. Go around and start the air-conditioning, I’m melting in this thing.” Marley looked down at her suit in disgust.

  Sweat was dripping between her breasts, but if she tried to rub it away her shirt would become transparent.

  “I’ll help you in, my mother taught me some manners.”

  “Fine.” She could have cared less about his manners. The step up was pretty high, and her skirt was pencil-straight to her knees. She had to pull the darn thing practically up to her thighs to get into the truck. Once she was inside, he shut her door, crossed over to the other side of the cab and got in the driver’s seat.

  Hunter wasted no time cranking the air conditioning, and Marley breathed a sigh of relief when the cold air started shooting out of the vents.

  She turned the vent closest to her so that it blew directly on her neck. Maybe it would dry the sweat pooling in her bra.

  “So, how long have you lived above the bar?”

  Hunter asked as he cautiously pulled into traffic.

  “A little over five years. I was a nanny before that, and worked at the bar part-time. When the nanny gig ended, I needed a place to stay and a full-time job. Seamus had both.” Marley forced the lump back down her throat. Seamus was with his wife Mary Catherine now, and he was in a much better place. He didn’t want or need her tears.

  She glanced over at Hunter, who was concentrating on merging into a left turn only lane like he was rounding a curve on the Daytona 500. His hands gripped the wheel, and she could see the corded muscles in his arms flex with the tension. His arms were tanned, and sprinkled with golden hair.

  He’d worn a polo shirt instead of a dress shirt for the meeting. The black dress pants outlined his tight thighs, and after one quick glance at an impressive-looking bulge between his legs, Marley quickly averted her eyes.

  Initially, Marley had been irritated over his appearance when he first came into the conference room. Really, couldn’t he wear a dress shirt for the reading of his father’s will? After ten minutes walking in the heat in her suit, though, she was irritated and jealous. She wished she could have gotten away with something casual and cool.

  The shirt clung to his pectorals like a second skin and hugged the muscles in his arms that went all the way down to his thick wrists and tapered hands.

  Those long-fingered hands had a smattering of the same golden hair, and suddenly she vividly pictured those tan hands cupping her breast.

  Her nipples rose to attention beneath her blouse, and she felt a flush of embarrassment. At least she hoped it was embarrassment. She didn’t want to consider that the heat in the cab had little to do with the temperature outside. The spiciness of his cologne mixed with a scent that was all man, and it surrounded her. With every breath she took, the smell of him reminded her of his nearness.

  She moved the vent so it blew across her face, hoping to clear her head and hide her thoughts. The last thing she needed was a case of lust over an irresponsible pretty boy. She knew his type to a T. He would try to charm her into doing all the work, and maybe selling to her early so he could get his money and be on the road. He would flirt, maybe even try to get her into bed, all the while just biding his time until he could take off and play with his cars.

  Well he was going to be in for a surprise. Just because her mother had 'sucker' stamped on her forehead for every man that needed a roof over his head and a warm body to lie next too, didn’t mean that Marley did too. She had learned at a very young age that men never stayed. Once they got what they wanted, they were off on their merry way. If he wanted to get his hands on Seamus’ money, he was going to play by the rules. And the rules said he was going to work at the bar for six months. She was going to make sure he earned every penny.

  Chapter Two

  Hunter parked the truck on a narrow side street in front of the bar. The same sign still hung over the door; 'O’Malley’s, established 1909.' He remembered coming here on school vacations, working here on weekends, sitting at the bar listening to Yankee’s games on the radio with a bunch of men who hadn’t changed in thirty years. Nothing ever changed at O’Malley’s, it was a fact his father was proud of. It was what made Hunter want to jump back in the truck and make a run for the highway.

  Nothing ever changed. It was the same, day after day after day. And he was going to have to spend the next six months stuck here.

  “Do you want to see the bar first, or the apartment?” Marley asked, looking a little less wilted.

  “The apartment. I can wait on the bar. I’m sure it hasn’t changed much from the last time I was here.”

  Marley rolled her eyes and gave him a tight look he couldn’t interpret. “Okay, come on up, the keys are in my apartment. I oversaw the place once Seamus got sick. When the last tenant left, he asked me not to rent it out again. I guess now I know why,” she said as she unlocked the door that led to the apartment over the bar.

  Hunter was listening to her with only part of his brain; the rest of him was watching her legs as she climbed the stairs in front of him. The skirt she was wearing molded to her ass and each hypnotic sway of her hips caused the blood to rush out of his brain yet again.

  He had tried to keep his raging hormones under control during the trip to the apartment from Midtown. The traffic kept him plenty occupied, but occasionally he would catch a whiff of her perfume, or a glimpse of her body. When the vents blew against her blouse, causing the fabric to mold to her breasts like a second skin, his heart revved faster than the engine in his racecar. He almost missed a turn because the sight of her nipples straining at the blouse had him mesmerized. Now her raspberry scent drifted down the stairs, teasing his senses once more.

  If he could get past her icy demeanor and her apparent dislike of him, he might just be able to survive the next six months. Maybe. Looking at her porcelain complexion as she turned to unlock the door to her apartment, he thought she was definitely worth the effort it would take to win her over.

  “You might as well come in while I get the keys. There’s soda in the fridge. Help yourself. I’m going to change out of this suit before I take you to the apartment, then I need to go down to the bar to get ready to open.”

  “Sure, fine.” What was there to get ready? It was only ten o’clock in the morning. How long did it take to put out bowls of stale pretzels and cut up a few lemons and limes?

  He wandered around her apartment while she was locked in her room. The place was neat as a pin, with not a thing out of place. He walked over to her couch.

  It was shabby but clean. A huge, equally shabby recliner was the only other seat in the room. It was the type of chair a guy could fall asleep in while watching TV and drinking a beer on a weekend. It would swallow Marley up completely. He wondered if she had it for the man in her life. That was something he would have to find out.

  He continued to nose about the living room and kitchen, noticing a lack of clutter and personal effects.

  In fact, the only picture she had was of her and Seamus in front of the bar. He peeked into what must have once been a spare bedroom, but had been turned into a mini-gym. There was a stair machine, weight bench, mini-fridge, and a boom box. That explained why h
er legs were in such great shape.

  Hunter had a vision of her on the weight bench, sweaty and waiting for him. He had quite a little fantasy playing where she stripped off a skimpy leotard and climbed on top of him when he heard her behind him.

  “Making yourself at home?” Her eyebrows were raised imperiously, and her arms were crossed over her chest.

  “Just checking the place out. I assume my place is similar.” Hunter had no intention of telling her that he was thinking of plenty of ways to make himself at home. He didn’t think she was in the mood to listen to what exactly he had in mind.

  She rolled her eyes at him again—man, he was getting to hate that look—and walked silently to the kitchen. She bent over to grab something out of the refrigerator and Hunter’s heart just about stopped.

  That was the only way he could describe her derriere in cut-off jean shorts—heart-stopping. She had put her hair up into a ponytail again, and had changed into the shorts and a black 'O’Malley’s' T-shirt that clung to her generous curves. It wasn’t skintight or low cut, but it sure did fit her well. If it fit her any better Hunter wasn’t going to make it to the privacy of his apartment without embarrassing himself. He could already feel his erection pressing painfully against his zipper, and he was standing across the room from her. He just had to see what would happen if he got closer. He always did like to play dangerously.

  She grabbed a set of keys out of a drawer in the kitchen and headed towards the door to the apartment. Hunter beat her there and opened it for her.

  “Well, aren’t you just the gentleman today,” she said sarcastically. Hunter could feel himself rising to the challenge she presented. All of her actions screamed 'back off!', which only made him want to get that much closer. So he did.

  Hunter crowded her against the doorframe, instinctively knowing that she wanted to keep as much space between them as possible.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a smart mouth?” Hunter asked, cupping her chin in his hand and rubbing his thumb along her lower lip. He had remembered correctly—her lips were full and red.

  What he knew now was they were as soft as a rose petal. He wanted to cover her naked body in rose petals and see if he could feel the difference.

  He touched her mouth with only his thumb, lightly, brushing it, waiting for her reaction. Her pupils had widened, and he heard her catch her breath quickly. He smiled triumphantly; she wasn’t so icy after all, was she?

  “Do I have ‘sucker’ printed on my forehead? It’s not my mouth that is smart, it’s my brain, and I know your type. If you think I’m going to fall into bed with you because you can recite some pretty words, you’re sadly mistaken.” Marley slid along the door fame to get away from him.

  “It might be nice, for both of us.” Hunter slipped his hands into his pockets to hide his hardened state.

  He was on fire, but if she could play it cool than so could he.

  “Maybe, but I don’t play that way. You’ll have to find someone else to amuse you while you’re here. I have better things to do with my time than play slap and tickle with someone who will be leaving as soon as they get their hands on their money.”

  Hunter exhaled slowly. “I won’t lie to you. I need the money my father left me. And I won’t pretend that I’ll stay here after the six months are up just to get you into bed. I just don’t know...why waste the time we have together?”

  “I guess that’s just my loss. Here’s your place,” Marley said crossing the hall and opening the door.

  “It pretty much mirrors mine. You have a view of the courtyard instead of the street, but that’s about the only difference. The bathroom is next to the bedroom, and shares a wall with mine, so please be considerate in the mornings. The walls aren’t exactly soundproof.”

  Hunter took a look around the empty apartment. It certainly didn’t look like it had when his grandfather lived there. His grandfather was a pack rat who never threw anything out. This was the first time Hunter could remember seeing the floor.

  “I’ll be in the office downstairs. You have until seven tonight to get yourself settled, then I expect you to report for duty.”

  “What will I be doing? I can bartend, if I have to.”

  Marley snorted. “Slow down. I think we should start with something a little easier. We can post you at the door to check IDs, and you can put your good looks to some use as eye candy. It should bring in business by the ton.” She shot him a sassy grin as she headed towards the door.

  “Gee, thanks, so glad you could find a use for me.”

  Hunter didn’t know if he should be flattered at her references to his looks—at least she noticed them—or annoyed. He reminded himself again that she had been running the place for years now and knew what she was doing. He might own half of it, but he couldn’t run it to save his life. Nor did he want to.

  “Oh, I’m sure you have plenty of uses, but working the door is the only one I need right now.”

  Hunter could only stare as she walked out of the room.

  —

  Marley turned on the small window fan as high as it would go. The office was stuffy, but that wasn’t why she felt the need to cool down. She didn’t want to admit how much Hunter’s touch had affected her. It was just his finger on her face, for heaven’s sake, and it made her heart beat like a brass drum. If he had kissed her, her heart probably would have jumped right out of her chest.

  Not that she wanted him to kiss her. Okay, so she was curious if the reality lived up to his press coverage, but that was all.

  Liar.

  Okay, okay, so he was better looking than even his pictures had hinted at. The photos in the papers and magazines didn’t show the golden-tipped eyelashes, the muscles in his arms, the slight dip in his chin.

  She had to stop thinking about him! He was only going to stick around long enough to get his money, and then he was out of her life forever.

  The last thing she was going to do was fall in bed with someone who would leave her without a second thought. She was not her mother. Marley knew better than to believe that a man would stick around once he got what he wanted. At least Hunter was honest about it and didn’t try to pretend he’d love her forever like her mother’s boyfriends had.

  Marley’s entire life had been spent watching a parade of men go through her mother’s bedroom door. She gave up trying to remember their names. It was always the same scenario; Vivian would meet a man, usually years younger than she, and he would move in for a few weeks, maybe even months. He’d leave as soon as he got sick of Vivian’s clinging.

  Her mother would change her entire personality to fit whichever loser she had picked up at the dive where she worked. As soon as he left her she would be despondent, crying in her beer that her heart was broken. Days later, she would bring home some other loser and the whole thing would start all over again.

  Marley had learned at a young age two very important lessons; you could only depend on yourself, and men never stick around. No, her mother would likely never learn from her mistakes, but Marley had. She had a plan.

  Marley pulled a sheet of paper from her desk. It was the confirmation of her course registration. One more semester of school and she would finally graduate. By Christmas she would have her Bachelor’s Degree in Business, half of the bar, and enough money to buy the other half. All she had to do to have everything she ever wanted was make sure Hunter didn’t cut out early.

  Just the thought of losing it all gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach. She knew no one was going to hand her anything on a silver platter, and had worked damn hard to make her dreams come true.

  Marley had been taking college classes and working full time at the pub when Seamus had gotten sick. She cut back the number of classes so she could spend more time helping him run the bar. Eventually Marley was doing Seamus’ job plus her own and still going to school.

  As Seamus’ health continued to deteriorate, he promised her that she would be taken care of after he was gone. How coul
d he have put such stipulations in his will? Why was she the one getting punished because his son was too busy racing cars to come back home and help out at the bar?

  Now all her dreams hinged upon whether or not Hunter could stick around for six months. Fat chance.

  She briefly considered sleeping with him to keep him around, then dismissed it. She wanted the bar, but not enough to prostitute herself for it.

  Well, musing about Hunter wouldn’t get the bar ready for the day. She had noticed a discrepancy in the liquor order that morning but hadn’t had a chance to do anything about it. Marley picked up the phone and dialed her supplier. If he thought he could pull a fast one on her because she was a woman, he was in for a nasty shock.

  Chapter Three

  Hunter leaned against the door to the office and listened to Marley light into some poor slob on the phone. He had already unloaded his meager possessions from the truck; his life was in the back of the Bronco. Now that he actually had a place to keep his stuff he might consider getting a real bed and maybe a TV. They could always be sold when his sentence was up. His apartment somewhat organized, he gave in to the indescribable something that pushed him to find out where Marley had gone.

  Coming down the back stairs that led to the office, he was shocked to realize the place even smelled the same. At the landing, he turned toward the door marked ‘Private’ avoiding the bar itself for just a little bit longer. He hadn’t been inside the actual bar for years, and he wasn’t in any rush to see it now.

  When Hunter’s parents both worked there, he would hang out in the kitchen downstairs or sit out front with his father’s cronies, listening to them talk about sports, work, the old country. It was the same men, the same complaints, the same stories, day after day. By the time he was in high school, he hated the place.