“You don’t think someone is selling fentanyl here, do you? Aren’t we looking for diet pills?”
“Yes. But you never know when the dealer might up his game. If he has a customer, he’ll bring anything.”
She nodded. A tear fell.
He felt like an asshole. “Jodi…” He wiped the tear away with his thumb.
“It’s just…” She took a breath. “It was a stressful day. More for you than for me. And I made it worse.”
He slid his hands up to cup her face. “No, you didn’t. You gave me a quick heart attack is all. It’s over.” He forced a smile. Thank God those pills weren’t something illegal. This time. “Will you please stop trying to play detective?” He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, wishing for all the world that there had never been a Katia in his life. Screw the money. He wanted to kiss the woman in his arms right now.
She smirked. “You just want me to wear T-shirts instead of tank tops.”
He nodded, grinning. “Sure. Yes. That too. Call me a chauvinist.”
“You know, I’m pretty sure business has picked up since I started exposing more curves and a bit of cleavage.”
He lifted a brow, aiming to tease her. “Or… Maybe business picked up when you added a buff hunk of man at the front door.”
She laughed. Thank God. “Shit. You’re right. That’s far more likely.”
He didn’t want to tell her how to dress. Really, he didn’t. He wasn’t that kind of guy. But Lord it rankled him when he saw men staring at her chest for hours on end.
She eased back, removing herself from his grip. He felt her absence immediately. Hated not being able to touch her how he wanted. To tell her how he felt. To hold her in his arms. Hell, he wanted to strip her naked and see what the rest of her breasts looked like. Not just the sliver of creamy skin he got from her cleavage.
He didn’t want this time with her to end. He wanted to drag it out any way he could. “Is it true? Has business been a little better lately?”
She sighed as she dropped down onto the loveseat. “Yeah. Not a lot, but some. We’ve been on a steady decline for several years. Ten years ago, this bar was the only one in the area. All the locals came here. Now there is a lot of competition, and Bridgman’s doesn’t have all the same amenities. It’s still the same small corner bar it always was.”
“Have you ever considered adding a kitchen and offering at least a short menu of food?” He perched on the sofa next to her.
“Of course, I have. The problem is we don’t have the space. I nearly salivate every time I walk by what used to be a barber shop next door. It’s been for sale for months. If I had the collateral, I could buy it and add a kitchen, but I don’t.”
Tuck understood money problems. He had more bills than he had cash himself. He reached out and fingered a lock of her hair, wishing he could do more. This was all he could offer her right now. An ear and an occasional hug. “Sorry. That sucks. I get it. I’ve been so desperate for cash myself that I’m acting like a jackass on a reality TV show.” He forced a chuckle to lighten the mood.
She tipped her face toward his fingers and brushed her cheek against them. “You’re not a jackass.”
“Feels like it most days. I wake up every morning, look in the mirror, and think, what the absolute fuck are you doing, Tuck? I’m questioning whether or not it’s worth it more and more every day.”
Jodi met his gaze. “It is. You have to remember the prize. The light at the end of the tunnel is coming.” She glanced past him toward the carpet. “Your papers are all over the floor.” She eased away from him, bent down, and busied herself picking up the mess. They were going to be out of order. He didn’t care. They were printed before today’s latest madness. Most likely someone had already made new plans for tomorrow. In fact, he needed to check his voicemail and see what messages had been left from the producer.
Later. First, he wanted to spend a few more minutes with Jodi. Even on her knees, bent over the pile of papers, she was sexy. She had no idea how much he wanted her. So many words were stuck in his throat.
Fucking contract.
Chapter 9
Tuck was still staring at Jodi’s fantastic ass encased in perfect-fitting jeans when she started giggling. Seconds later, the giggling switched to laughter as she jumped to her feet and spun around with a handful of haphazard papers. She held them out. “Oh my God. This is hilarious.” She stepped over the rest of the papers and plopped back down on the sofa. After dropping the messy stack on her lap, she picked up the top one and cleared her throat. She was grinning ear to ear, unable to stop laughing.
Suddenly, Tuck realized what was so funny. The script. The script she wasn’t supposed to see. The one the producers gave him earlier in the day to guide his conversations with Katia when he got home from work and tomorrow morning. The stupid script would be obsolete by now after the bedlam of the day.
Tuck groaned as he reached over to snatch the pages from Jodi’s hands.
She leaned back and jerked them out of his reach. In a goofy, high-pitched, sing-songy voice, she began to read. “Please please please, Tucky, can you take tonight off so we can go to dinner?”
He lifted a brow, fighting his own laughter now. For one thing, he knew Jodi was embellishing the lines. For another thing, she was cute as hell. So he righted himself and crossed his arms to glare at her while she continued. He was certain his glare was more of
