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  “But bad for someone who’s just rolled into town hunting an apartment.”

  “They’re building some new apartments near the customer service center, but I don’t think they’ll be ready for a few more months. You can probably call them, though, and get yourself added to their waiting list.”

  “They have a waiting list?” I could hear the disappointment in her voice as she realized getting an apartment might not be as easy as she thought.

  “That’s what I hear from my customers, and believe me, I hear just about everything here: who’s sleeping with who, who got in a knock-down drag-out, who filed for divorce, etcetera, etcetera. Gossip spreads faster than the warmth from a swig of whiskey.”

  “I’ll have to check it out in the morning.”

  “You know, I just happen to be looking for a roommate. If you want to stay with me while you find a place or while you wait on one of those new apartments, you’re welcome to. The rent’ll be cheap, and I might even throw in a foot massage here and there.”

  “A foot massage, huh?” She cocked her head in thought. “That’s mighty tempting.”

  “It’s just a thought.” I scanned the bar one more time to make sure everything was in perfect order.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She stood up, and we both scooted our stools up to the bar.

  Fishing my cell phone out of my pocket, I asked her for her number, dialing it as she told me. It started ringing. “Now, you’ve got my number. Call me if you want to move in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Let me tell Spanky we’re leaving, and I’ll walk you to your car.”

  I walked briskly toward the office, knocked on the door, and popped my head in. “Hey, Spanky, I’m fixing to walk Lexi out. You ready to leave?”

  “You kids go on. I’m going to stay a little while longer.” He took his glasses off and laid them on the desk. Then, he leaned back and folded his arms behind his head, his chair squeaking with the movement.

  “Okay then. See you later.”

  “See ya.”

  I met Lexi back at the bar and walked her to her car in the dimly lit parking lot. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Mason.”

  “For what? Sex on the Beach?”

  “It wasn’t very good, but I do appreciate your effort.”

  I chuckled at her unexpected response. “Ouch.” I playfully pushed her shoulder. “You know it’s okay to admit you like being on the beach with me,” I teased.

  “Are you one of those guys?” she asked.

  “I don’t know who those guys are, but I can guarantee you that I’m not one of them.”

  She grunted. “We’ll see about that.”

  The only thing I knew as well as bartending was women. I studied her face. Her eyes were concealed by shadows, and I wondered what guy had broken her heart.

  Clenching my jaw, I slightly shook my head as a realization hit me.

  I probably was one of those guys.

  Chapter 2

  Devil’s Handshake

  Lexi

  My alarm went off promptly at eight o’clock. I’d wanted to take a steaming bath when I’d gotten back to the room last night, but since the room’s cleanliness wasn’t quite up to par for me, I’d opted for a shower, instead. After settling into bed, I’d propped my computer across my lap and searched online for the apartment complex Mason had mentioned. The idea of being in a brand new place that hadn’t been occupied previously appealed to the OCD side of me.

  After making a quick phone call, I arranged an appointment with the apartment manager for a walk-through of the model apartment. I showered and dressed, and then I packed my things and checked out of the hotel. An hour and a half later, I pulled into the gravel parking lot and parked in front of a modular building the complex was using as a makeshift office.

  An attractive woman greeted me from behind a desk, her gray roots marring her well-groomed appearance. Upon seeing me, she pasted on a bright smile and rushed around the desk as if a celebrity had just sashayed into her little corner of the world.

  “You must be Lexi,” she said, making the handshake last a little longer than normal.

  “I am.”

  “I’m Lisa. I talked to you on the phone. So you’re interested in the one-bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Follow me.” She exited the office and navigated her spiked heels carefully through the large gravels until we crossed the parking lot and walked through the main entrance of the apartment building. A small lobby neared completion, and we turned into a hallway, passing unpainted sheetrock.

  Approaching the first door, she wrapped her hand around the doorknob and paused. “All the floor plans for the one-bedrooms are identical. I think you’ll find it spacious and comfortable.” She pushed the door open, and I followed her into a decent sized living room.

  I listened to her as she moved from room to room, touting all the benefits. The apartment was more than adequate, even though I would have preferred a few upgrades, such as granite. Following her back to the office, she pulled out a drawing of the finished complex and pointed out the clubhouse and pool.

  “How long before it’s finished?” If it wasn’t too long, then the wait would be a minor inconvenience in exchange for an apartment that had never been occupied.

  “About four months.” She sat ramrod straight in her black suit, her hands clasped together, resting on the desk. “Would you like to complete an application? We’re filling up fast.”

  My decision was already made. “Yes.”

  Shuffling through one of her desk drawers, she pulled out the form and pushed it across the desk. She grabbed a pen from a black ceramic coffee cup, clicked the top, and handed it to me.

  “I’ll go ahead and add you to the waiting list. Once your application is approved, I’ll notify you, and if you like, we can give you updates via text or email. Just mark your preference on the application.”

  The form was fairly brief, which I appreciated. I quickly filled it out and passed it back to her.

  She handed me a business card. “I’ll give you a call either today or tomorrow and let you know whether it’s been approved. If you have any questions in the meantime, give me a call.”

  “I will. Thank you.” I shook her hand and left.

  I had some time to kill before my shift started at Spanky’s. I’d been thinking about Mason’s offer to room with him until my apartment was ready, and while it would be a bit awkward, it seemed like the easiest solution.

  Pulling over into a strip mall parking lot, I grabbed my cell phone, took a deep breath, and dialed his number.

  The phone rang several times, and I had decided he wasn’t going to answer when I finally heard his hoarse whisper over the speaker. “Yeah.”

  “Mason?” I could tell I had woken him.

  “Yes?”

  “Sorry to bother you. It’s Lexi.”

  “Lexi, hey,” he said, his voice perking up.

  “Are you still looking for a roommate?”

  “I am. You need a place?”

  “I went and looked at that apartment complex you told me about yesterday, and I’m on their waiting list. They said it would be about four months. You care if I stay there until my apartment’s ready?”

  “Not at all. When do you want to move in?”

  “Would now be too soon?”

  He chuckled gruffly. We quickly agreed on the price, and he gave me directions to his apartment.

  Ten minutes later, I knocked on his front door. When he pulled it open, the first thing I noticed was his bare chest, nicely muscled with a sinuous tribal tattoo that flowed over his left shoulder and down his arm and the side of his torso. Despite his disheveled appearance, he was still devilishly handsome. He ran his long fingers through his silky hair, and it fell back into place, brushing against his shoulders. An endearing grin shot across his face, and dimples softened his angular cheeks.

  “You move fast, don’t ya, love?”

&nb
sp; I smiled, unable to stop my perusal from dipping to the V lines that disappeared into low-riding jeans. “Being homeless is an amazing incentive.”

  He held his hand out, and I shook it. “Congratulations, we’re now officially roommates.” Opening the door wider, he waved me in. “Welcome home.”

  I started to pick up my suitcase, but he stopped me. “I’ll get that.”

  “Thank you.” Waltzing into the apartment, I looked around. It was fairly nice in an extremely masculine way. The walls were bare, but the furniture was stylish, even if it was coated in a light layer of dust. A bar separated the kitchen from the living room, and an assortment of liquor bottles filled the top of the refrigerator.

  “Your bedroom’s across the hall from mine. It’s an en suite. Do you have furniture?”

  I followed him down the hall, his bare feet silent against the carpet. “No, I’ll have to buy some.”

  “There’s a furniture store about a mile from here. They have a decent selection, and the prices aren’t too bad.”

  Mason entered my bedroom and set down my suitcase. He motioned toward a door. “Bathroom’s in there. You’ve seen the living room and the kitchen. There’s a half bath in the hallway, and a washer and dryer just off the kitchen. Feel free to look around. I’m going back to bed. I can still catch a nap before my shift.”

  “Thank you, Mason. I appreciate this.”

  “No problem.”

  He went to his bedroom and shut the door behind him, leaving me the freedom to explore. The bathroom was simple but clean, the closet spacious. I went to the kitchen and poked around in the cabinets, which only had the bare minimum, a few canned goods and some crackers. The refrigerator was stocked with beer, a carton of eggs, condiments, assorted juices, a lemon, and miscellaneous sandwich stuff. An outdated loaf of bread lay on the counter.

  Picking up random bottles of liquor from the top of the fridge, I read the labels, amazed at his vast selection of rum, vodka, whiskey, tequila, and the list went on and on.

  The washer and dryer were tucked in a closet, a row of nearly-empty wire shelves over them. I found a small utility closet beside them, which held an iron and ironing board, a broom, a vacuum cleaner, a mop, and a bucket.

  With plenty of time before my shift started, I decided to check out the furniture store. I found it easily, and Mason’s assessment had been accurate.

  I quickly decided on a sleigh bed in deep mahogany with a matching dresser and nightstand. After selecting a lamp, I paid for the furniture and set up delivery for the following day.

  Pleased with my selection and glad to have that task crossed off my list, I went back to the apartment and realized that I didn’t have a key. I knocked on the door, hoping that Mason was awake by now.

  He pulled the door open almost instantly, and I was a little disappointed that he was wearing a shirt this time. “My bad.” He pulled a loose key out of his pocket. “I forgot to give you this.”

  He dropped the key in my palm, and I immediately put it on the ring with my car keys.

  “Guess I’m official now.” I entered the apartment, and he closed the door behind us.

  “I was fixing to make myself a drink,” he called from behind me. “Want me to show you how while I’m doing it?”

  “You drink before you go to work?” I asked, surprised.

  “It’s just one drink, and if we split it, it won’t even be that much alcohol. Come on.” He passed me and went to the kitchen.

  Interested in seeing what he was concocting, I trailed along and leaned against the kitchen counter as he started grabbing the appropriate ingredients.

  He explained each step as he made it, and when he finished, he poured us each some in a glass of ice. “Normally, it’d be garnished with a lime wedge, but I’m a little short on limes at the moment.”

  The drink was an odd mixture of sweet and tart. “What’s it called?”

  “Devil’s Handshake.” He turned and began putting all the ingredients up. “You like it?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, it’s smooth, isn’t it?” I took another drink, wanting to associate the flavor and texture with the name of the drink.

  “That’s the egg white. Although, when we’re making drinks at Spanky’s, we use powdered egg whites, so we don’t have to worry about salmonella.”

  “How many drinks do you know how to make?”

  He turned and shot me a grin. “A bunch.”

  “Do you ever mess any up?”

  He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, looking at me as if I were insane. “No, I never mess any up. I pride myself on delivering the best damn drink possible.”

  “Like your Sex on the Beach?”

  “Exactly.”

  He drained the rest of his drink in one long gulp.

  “You want to ride to work with me?” I asked.

  “I would,” he answered with a lopsided grin, “but I have a date tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  He put his glass in the sink. “And don’t wait up for me.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  “See you at work.”

  He left the kitchen, and I sipped my drink until I had finished most of it. Pouring the rest out, I loaded our dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wiped off the counter before heading to my room.

  I unzipped my suitcase. After hanging up my clothes and neatly arranging my extra pairs of shoes in the closet, I unpacked my makeup in the bathroom. As the time for my shift approached, I finished getting ready and drove the short distance to work.

  When I arrived, Mason was already behind the bar, charming customers and whipping up drinks. I had a few minutes before my shift started, so I took a seat at one of the small, empty tables in the dining area and watched him.

  Since it was Friday, patrons lined up along the bar, talking and laughing and ordering quite a few drinks. Their eyes focused on Mason as he tossed bottles behind his back, catching them in the opposite hand. He twirled tins and spun bottles, and I quickly found myself mesmerized by him. He was more than just a bartender. He was an entertainer, and the patrons loved him. No wonder Spanky spoke so highly of him.

  When it was time for my shift to start, I immediately began stocking. My muscles were sore from carrying buckets of ice the previous day, but the bar was buzzing with activity, and I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

  The daily special was draft beer, and Mason put me to work filling icy mugs while he handled the cocktails. While I wiped the counter, I heard shouts and whistles coming from the customers. I turned to see Mason with a row of glasses lined up on the bar. He had several tins stacked into each other and poured five different shots at the same time, the liquid landing in the glasses in a rainbow of colors.

  Transfixed, I stared at him. Having spent four years in college, I’d been to my share of bars and parties, but I’d never seen anyone do that little trick. When he finished, the buxom blondes sitting in front of him clapped voraciously. They loved him.

  When my shift was over and Mason delivered my part of the tips, I quickly crammed the money in my purse and left. My feet ached, and knowing that my furniture would be delivered mid-morning the next day, I wanted to get some sleep.

  Back at my apartment, I took a hot shower, helped myself to a throw blanket and a pillow from the couch, and curled up in the floor of my bedroom.

  Sleep came pretty easily, and in a matter of minutes, all conscious thought slipped into nothingness.

  When I heard a thump in the middle of the night, my eyes flew open. I lay still, breathing quietly while I waited to see if I heard it again.

  A muffled string of slurred expletives drifted down the hall. I jumped to my feet and listened at the door—more mumbling. Grabbing my robe from the closet, I wrapped it around me, tied the belt, and peeked out my bedroom door.

  “Shit,” Mason muttered, followed by another thump.

  I opened the door wider and ventured into the hallway, walking toward the source of the noise. The
apartment was pitch-black, so approaching the end of the hall, I groped the wall, searching for the light switch.

  Finally, my fingers found it, and I flipped it on about the same time that Mason plowed into me. His arm wrapped around my waist, though I wasn’t sure whether he was trying to steady me, him, or both of us. The strong scent of alcohol hung heavy in the air.

  “Dammit,” he whispered as he stumbled forward, tried to straighten up, and fell backwards instead, bringing me with him as we landed on the floor in another thud.

  I could feel my breasts pressed against his hard, muscular chest as his arm still held me firmly against him. His head was tossed back, his chin jutting in the air, a deep rumble of laughter reverberating through his torso.

  He lifted his head and looked at me, his lips still curled into a grin. His eyes were the color of whiskey, which, considering he reeked of alcohol, seemed fitting. “Sorry, roomie,” he slurred. “What was your name again?”

  “Lexi,” I ground out between clenched teeth as I scrambled to get off him.

  He released a cry of pain.

  Realizing that I’d accidentally kneed him in the groin, a flood of heat exploded in my chest and torpedoed up my face. “Sorry,” I mumbled, relieved when my knees firmly hit the floor and I could push myself to my feet.

  He attempted to raise himself up on his elbows, failing miserably.

  I maneuvered behind him, slipping my hands beneath his arms, and tried to give him enough leverage to sit up.

  It worked.

  “Can you stand?” If not, then he’d just have to sleep in the hallway.

  After a lot of fumbling and with my grip firmly on his arm, he finally stood.

  “You didn’t drive, did you?”

  “No. I never drink and drive. My friend owns a caxi tab.” He stumbled a few steps. “A caxi tab.” He shuffled forward again. “A caxi….”

  “A taxi cab,” I supplied, gripping his arm tightly.

  “Yeah.” He pointed his finger in the air. “One of those.”

  I pushed his door open and flipped on the light. With his arm draped across my shoulders, we staggered into his bedroom. He lurched across the floor and fell onto his unmade bed. Relieved to be free of his weight, I straightened and swept my eyes across the room. It was sparsely furnished with a bed and a chest of drawers. Some change, a photo, and an empty glass sat on a small table, which served as a nightstand. “You okay?” I asked, turning my attention back to him.