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ass down
on the edge of it or let the digit shish-ke-bob a vital organ. That put her
standing solidly between his spread thighs, and put them close to eye level,
though he still had some height on her. He caught her wrist in self-defense,
though he didn’t remove the finger from his chest.
    Leaving her wrist in his grasp, she let her gaze course over
him in that intimate way, like she was already seeing him sprawled in her bed.
That ride was going two ways, for sure.
    “I simply kept it from imploding tonight,” she said
conversationally. “You want me to take it over, I can make you money and give
you time to sleep. You’re running the ranch during the day and working this
place at night. You’re plowing yourself into the ground and doing a half-assed
job at both.”
    “Thanks for the news flash. I have a mother already.”
    “I hope you don’t look at your mother the way you’re looking
at me now.”
    He surged up off the desk. She gave way gracefully but
stayed close. Way too close. “Quit showing off your body. That won’t work with
me.”
    The look in her eyes told him she didn’t believe a word of
what he said. “I think you have bigger problems than my body.”
    Still in control. She’d been holding the reins from the
first, and it didn’t annoy him the way it should. Instead, it gave him an odd
mix of panic and arousal. He needed to act like a boss. The guy in charge.
    “You think being a wiseass is the best way to prove to me
how good a bar manager you’d be?”
    “If the past few hours didn’t prove that, you’re not as
smart as I assumed you are.”
    He stared at her then shook his head. His chuckle seemed to
surprise her. “Ah, fuck me. Whatever. Let’s try this again.” He gestured her
back into the guest chair. “Sorry, I should have dusted that off first. I don’t
know the last time it was used. Okay, Miss Know-It-All. Tell me what else you
saw tonight that will help me run my place better. Impress me.”
    She already had, but apparently that was a gift that was
about to keep giving. She reclaimed her seat with that sensual flow of motion,
crossed her legs again. “As I said earlier, your bartenders are over-pouring,
probably costing you about fifty percent of your potential drink profits a
night, above and beyond what Artie was stealing. Yes, you only offer bar food
so that you don’t compete with the two restaurants in town, but there’s no
reason for it to be drowning in old grease and coming out with no presentation.
I can help with that.
    “You have presentation problems at the bar too. Your
good-quality spirits are hiding in the well instead of placed on the shelving
behind it. There’s no lighting to really draw people that way either. You could
add a fresh coat of paint and some regional decorations that would give the
place an inexpensive facelift until you can afford something snazzier. You’re
nearly out of basics like bar napkins and vodka, and that can be fixed by
proper supply management.”
    She lifted a brow. “Shall I keep going?”
    “Why not?”
    Her eyes narrowed, but she complied. “Your demographic may
be small, but they have a good median income and you have the potential of
attracting the business of other nearby small towns if you have something
better to offer them than their current watering holes.
    “Your dance floor is run by an ancient jukebox. It’s quaint,
but you could keep the façade and install a computerized system with far more
selections. As you said, you’re the only game in town, and where else are they
going to go, but the current setup makes locals reluctant to spend
entertainment dollars here. You give them a quality place, they’ll drop money,
and I bet you might just attract people coming through town as well. Offer
better food, occasional live entertainment and a fun drink list that’s more
than just whiskey and Coke, and warm draft beer—by the way, your cooling lines
need to be checked—you’ll do better on your bottom