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turned to face him. “You know a lot of their work is therapeutic, massages, steam baths, custom-mixed lotions, stuff like that.”
    I’ll bet, he was tempted to say, but didn’t. He was saved any further discussion of the Ranch’s decor by Andy saying her nose needed powdering. He stood to let her out of the booth. And then he saw him. For that split second, their eyes locked in the mirror behind the bar. Recognition? Eric couldn’t be sure. There was something. The man was a gorilla, massive, thick neck; his jacket was ill-fitting but an important item if you were trying to conceal something like a gun. Eric could see the outline of it as the man bent forward to pull his drink closer. Some pretty good sized revolver? Semi-automatic?
    No. This was stupid. Paranoid. Who would be after him? Andy’s father? He almost laughed. Forty and he could get decked by an irate parent. He just knew for certain that it wasn’t a setup by Billy Roland. He’d made a bargain with that lawyer and kept his word to the old man, covered for him.
    Eric relaxed. The man at the bar seemed intent on studying the burned-in brands displayed in the wood beam above the cash register. One man carrying a gun and glancing his way didn’t make an armed assassin. Not that it wasn’t important to be on your toes, but it was a little too egocentric to think someone wanted you dead. He’d waited seven years for this day. He needed to start enjoying it.
    The band was tuning up, and the lead singer, dripping sequins and fringe, settled herself on a stool facing the audience. Long red hair cascaded down her back and swept below her ass; her full thighs were encased in doe-soft white leather; she looked his way and waved. He nodded and held eye contact a minute. God, women could be so beautiful in these backwash places. Or was he reacting from deprivation?
    Horny. That was it. That was what was wrong with him. There was nothing like getting laid to put things in perspective. Actually, no better way to start the first day of the rest of your life than with a bang. The cracked leather back seat of the Caddy was beginning to look pretty good.
    Andy was motioning to him from the edge of the dance floor as the vocalist began a slow pulsating tune that had been popular a few years back. Walking toward her, he noticed how young everyone looked; mean age had to be twenty-five. Even the bartender wasn’t more than thirty. It was like an entire generation of people had sprung up from nowhere. Seven years had been a long time. But then, two million was a lot of money.
    Andy put both arms around his neck and folded her body into his. Holding her like this wasn’t helping him put off his decision to get laid. But from the looks they were getting from some of the single women about Andy’s age, Eric knew it was important for her to show him off. Even the man with the gun was dancing. Must be a local.
    Andy felt good against him. Smelled good against him. If he had to take a guess, he’d say she wasn’t wearing underpants.
    He didn’t encounter any elastic as he slipped an index finger under the cuff of her shorts. He liked that. He had found it exciting behind the kitchen; he found it exciting now. As the band struck up a lively rendition of “Cotton-eyed Joe,” Eric grabbed Andy’s arm, steering her toward the booth.
    â€œLet’s get out of here. I can think of a couple things I’d like to do that don’t require a crowd, and music’s optional.”
    â€œAm I going to like these ‘things’?” A teasing smile played at the corners of her mouth. She tipped her head back and on impulse, Eric covered her mouth with his, letting his tongue barely push between her lips. It wasn’t a kiss as much as an invitation. Leaving his hands clasped behind her head, he pulled back to read her expression. Just what he had hoped for. God, how he loved women to meet him head on,