“Okay,” he said. “I can manage a suit. When do we leave?”

  “I plan to look into airfares right after I reach the liquor supplier, who I’ve been trying to call all morning.” She put a hand up, stopping him before he could say a word. “And I will be paying for your ticket. You’re doing me a favor by coming as my date, and since you’re not letting me pay you, this’ll make me feel better. Even though the amount I’ll spend would be slave wages in comparison to the hours you’ve worked, especially since I’ve earned so much more than I would have if you hadn’t been around.”

  He wasn’t going to have this argument again, not in front of the others, especially. But soon—once he’d come clean to her about his real situation, including his finances—he’d make sure she let him pay her back. “You’re on. So we’ll be back here by Sunday for the official closing day?”

  She nodded, rattling off the details. “I figured we’d fly out Saturday morning and back Sunday morning. Dinah, Vicki, Zeke and Uncle Ralph can cover Saturday night. We’ll be here for one final day with the customers Sunday afternoon and evening. And then we’ll have our big final private party on Monday.”

  She had everything figured out. Typical Cat…got knocked by some completely unexpected surprise and just rolled right with it. As always, she amazed him. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Vicki cleared her throat. “Uh, Cat, what liquor supplier do you use?”

  “Texas Todd’s,” she murmured, already reaching for the phone. “Though, if they’re going to be this unreliable, I might have to rethink that, which could be tough since they’re the only supplier within sixty miles of here.”

  “Uh-oh,” Vicki said softly. “Have you been watching the news or reading the paper at all this week?”

  “No. I’ve been kind of busy. Why? What is it?” Cat asked as she slowly returned the telephone receiver to its cradle and gave her friend her full attention.

  Seeing tiny, tense lines appear around Cat’s mouth, he knew she was preparing to be hit by yet another crisis. Hit hard. Dylan stiffened. What, exactly, was about to land on Cat’s shoulders now?

  “I hate to tell you this,” Vicki said, her reluctance evident in her tone, “but something happened at the Texas Todd’s warehouse here in Kendall Sunday night. They said on the news that a bad wire sparked a fire that turned into an enormous blaze. The whole place went up in smoke. It was completely destroyed.”

  They were all silent for a moment, looking at the nearly drained bottles on the half-empty shelves. Dylan breathed deeply as the truth slowly sank in. Even if Cat could find another supplier in Texas close enough to stock her up in time for this weekend, what company would want to deliver to a bar that was closing the next day? He knew enough about the law to know there was a lot of paperwork and a ton of regulations governing businesses that sold liquor, and she’d have to jump through a lot of hoops with a brand-new company. That would take time. Time Cat simply didn’t have.

  Judging by the shock and dismay on everyone’s faces, they’d all come to pretty much the same conclusion. But nobody spoke, not until her Uncle Ralph cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, sounding philosophical, “Guess that means I don’t have to learn how to make any froufrou drinks after all.”

  Cat didn’t say a word. She simply turned on her heel and stalked out of the bar.

  SITTING IN A CHAIR by the window overlooking the back garden, Cat stared outside, deep in thought. She still couldn’t quite believe it. She’d been all ready to close down after this weekend, somehow making herself believe she was totally okay.

  But now…now the end had come and she hadn’t even prepared herself for it. If they didn’t run out of booze tonight, they would by tomorrow night. Meaning no matter what, Temptation was officially out of business in a little over twenty-four hours.

  She didn’t cry. Her eyes didn’t even well up. Instead, she sat at the window, looking down at the greenery her grandmother had planted and tended two decades before. At the limestone wall she used to climb as a kid, when her parents were inside working and her older sister was off studying…being the angel.

  Cat had spent most of her childhood here, with a family who worked 24/7 on their business. She’d knocked out her first tooth when she’d fallen off a stool by the bar. She’d come here after school every day growing up, doing her homework in the kitchen while her grandmother made the Irish stew Sheehan’s Pub used to be famous for.

  Her first date had picked her up downstairs, under the watchful eye of her parents and Uncle Ralph. Here’s where she’d had her first job…her only job. And here’s where they’d held the Irish wake for her dad, which had drawn more than three hundred people and had gone on all night.

  Lots of memories. Lots of ghosts.

  Still dry-eyed, Cat finally began to realize something. It wasn’t the bar—or the building she was going to miss. It wasn’t the customers or the smell or the sounds or the excitement. It wasn’t the freedom or the fun or the music.

  It was the past. She’d held on so tightly to this place because it linked her to the past and to the people who’d meant so much to her, who’d all drifted away. As if she could somehow keep them close by holding on to the place where they’d last been together.

  Where she’d last seen their faces.

  “You don’t love working this bar,” she whispered, knowing it was true. She just hadn’t known any other way to live. And she’d thought that by staying here, she was keeping the whole family alive. But now, knowing she’d soon be leaving here for the last time, she began to accept that all those memories and moments she’d been so afraid of losing were going to be leaving with her.

  “Cat?” she heard from behind her.

  Spence. He’d entered so quietly she hadn’t even known he’d followed her up to her apartment.

  “Hey.”

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I am.” Forcing a laugh, she added, “At least now, I won’t have to worry about missing work Saturday. I don’t suppose we’ll have anything to serve by last call tonight.”

  He squatted beside her chair, looking so worried, so concerned. The warmth in his brown eyes and the tenderness in his stare got to her. Really got to her, way down deep.

  She in no way wanted to let this man get away. Because she loved him. Truly loved him, no matter what she’d been trying to tell herself. Cat would sooner strike a match and fling it at the bottles of liquor downstairs than let this man walk out of her life. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she finally said. “You’ve made this bearable, you know?”

  “Is there anything else I can do?”

  Reaching toward his long, silky hair, she ran her fingers through it, then offered him a shaky smile. “Help me make some Drink Till We’re Dry signs?”

  He laughed softly. Turning his head until his face curved against her hand, he gently kissed her palm.

  “Will you do something else for me, Spence?”

  “Anything.”

  Thinking about tonight, about Temptation going out in style, she asked, “Will you play tonight? Just you, with your guitar, play like Temptation’s the Titanic and you’re the orchestra?”

  He didn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely.”

  Smiling, she gave him a grateful nod.

  “Will you do something for me, too?” he asked. “Tomorrow, when this is all over, will you come somewhere with me? I have something I want to show you…something I want to talk to you about. I think we should get some things out in the open.”

  Cat was, of course, curious, but her mind was already caught up in how to get the word out about tonight. She had calls to make, signs to print up. The word would spread quickly, she knew, she just needed to get it started.

  Yeah, there was definitely a lot to do…but a big part of her wanted to just stay here for a little while longer. With him.

  “Cat? What do you say? Can we talk tomorrow?”

  She nodded. “Sure. But for right now…”

  “Yes?”

  Sliding out of her chair, she knelt in front of him on the carpet, then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Right now, I want you to make love to me.” Pressing her lips to his, she kissed him, mentally telling him all the things she’d realized but hadn’t yet figured out how to put into words.

  In silence, Spence rose, drawing her with him. Cat didn’t even try to protest when he bent and lifted her into his arms, carrying her the short distance back to her bedroom. When he gently laid her on the bed, she drew him down with her, feeling weak and hungry, empty and fulfilled, all at the same time.

  As always, Spence seemed to know exactly what she needed and how she needed it. In recent days, they’d made love in a lot of ways, a lot of moods. Crazy and wild and hot and intense.

  But this time, it was incredibly sweet.

  Kissing her deeply, he slowly drew her clothes off her body, stroking and caressing every inch as it was revealed. He focused all of his attention on pleasuring her. His every touch was delightful, every kiss intoxicating. All her nerve endings sparked and sizzled, until she could barely breathe because of the sensations washing over her.

  “You’re gonna be okay, Cat,” he whispered as he pulled away long enough to take off his own clothes.

  “I know.”

  Cupping her face in his hand, he stared into her eyes, then slowly entered her. Cat curved up, welcoming him, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts, wondering how she’d ever thought she’d known anything about lovemaking before she met this man.

  Sliding in and out of her with sweet hunger and passion, Dylan kissed her forehead, her temple, her eyelids. The beauty of it moved her, called to her and eventually overwhelmed her. For the first time in months, Cat gave in to the emotion, to the feelings battering her from all directions, knowing she was in the arms of a man who adored her and would keep her safe.

  And finally, she let go. Let go of everything. Including her long-unshed tears.

  DYLAN HADN’T PERFORMED alone in front of an audience in a long, long time. But somehow, Thursday night, it seemed easy. Maybe because, in spite of the crowd who’d gathered to say goodbye to Temptation, he always kept his focus on Cat.

  She looked beautiful. Deciding to live up to the name of her establishment, she’d dressed all in vivid, hot, tempting red. Every guy in the place was drooling, but Cat’s body language made it clear she was taken. By him.

  He hoped she’d still feel that way tomorrow because he was going to come clean with her. Everything had to be out in the open before he went with her to her sister’s wedding.

  He simply couldn’t put it off, couldn’t go mingle with her family and stand by her side when he’d been lying to her for weeks. So he planned to take her out to his house and get everything out in the open. And then ask her to live in it with him. As his wife.

  He definitely wasn’t lying tonight. As he went through his repertoire of torchy rock songs on the stage, he really sang only to Cat. The rest of the crowd faded to insignificance, just background chatter. He was giving her what she’d asked for, entertaining her customers, but every heated word of every hot song was directed entirely at the woman tending bar. Particularly when he dug all the ones he’d written for her out of his brain.

  Including one he’d been working on for the past several days. Called “In The Garden,” it was something he’d been playing around with in private. He’d never had any intention of performing it, certainly not this soon after writing it. But just in case the bottom dropped out of his world tomorrow, and she decided she liked the biker, not the software engineer, he wanted to make sure she knew how he felt.

  As soon as he sang the first few words, he knew he had her attention. Cat’s head jerked, and she stared at him from across the room. Slowly lowering the bottle she’d been pouring from, she froze, standing in utter stillness, listening to the words.

  He only hoped she remembered them tomorrow.

  After it was done, she gave him an intimate smile that told him she understood—and appreciated—every word.

  After he’d sung his third set, late in the night, he lowered his guitar, needing a drink and a break. It was nearly closing time, and, as Cat had predicted, they’d run out of most of their drinks earlier in the evening. But people were sticking around, wanting the friendship and the camaraderie to last a bit longer.

  Making his way across the room, he accepted the thanks from the audience, saying his goodbyes to the regulars he’d come to know in recent weeks. But he never took his eyes off his target, who was watching his progress out of the corner of her eye.

  “That was amazing,” Cat said as soon as he slid up onto the only vacant stool at the bar. “The garden song…wow.” He didn’t know if it was the reddish glow from the lights, or a reflection off her devil-red blouse, but he’d swear her cheeks held a hint of a blush. “Did you…write that recently?”

  Accepting a bottle of water from her, he nodded, then gave her an intimate smile. “Yeah. Very recently.”

  The color in her face grew deeper. Dylan couldn’t contain a small chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush before.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I only like red from the neck down.”

  He sat there with her for another half hour, as the crowd finally started to drift away. It was a work night, after all. Cat accepted tons of hugs and her tip jar looked ready to explode. Soon there were just a handful of people left, including Vicki, Dinah, Ralph and Zeke, all of whom were sitting at the bar, nursing their own bottles of beer, which Zeke had kept stashed in the kitchen fridge.

  “This was great, Cat. Man, I’m really gonna miss this place,” he heard someone say.

  That comment had come from a guy behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a stranger, a young man, who gave Cat a friendly smile. “Girl, it’s a damn good thing you called me to come work on that bike this afternoon, or I wouldn’t known about tonight’s closing-down party.”

  Casting a quick glance at Cat, he saw her eyes grow wide. “Uh, glad you could make it,” she mumbled.

  Dylan tensed, a sense of foreboding putting him on edge.

  “But, you know, it’s not like I could do anything,” the stranger said, keeping his voice loud to be heard over the last of the crowd lingering nearby. Shouldering his way closer, until he stood directly beside Dylan, he added, “There’s not a thing I could do with that Harley. She’s a beauty, well-maintained, and purrs like a kitten. Don’t know why you thought there was something wrong with her.” Then he tossed a familiar-looking set of keys onto the bar, which he hadn’t seen since he put them in the grungy duffel bag he’d gotten from Banks.

  Damn. This guy was talking about Jeremy’s motorcycle. No doubt about it. “Cat…”

  “What do you mean it’s running?” she asked sharply, looking back and forth between the stranger and Dylan. Her eyes narrowed. “You told me it was broken-down.”

  “You called a mechanic?” was all he could manage to sputter, instantly put on the defensive.

  “Because you wouldn’t let me pay you.”

  “Because I don’t accept money from women I’m sleeping with,” he shot back.

  The stranger whistled. “Okay, I’m outta here.”

  Everyone else within earshot seemed much less considerate. The conversation at the bar seemed to drop to a dull drone.

  Cat seemed to realize they’d drawn a lot of attention, too. Looking around frantically, she gestured toward her uncle Ralph. The old man nodded at her signal and came around to relieve her, though, with closing time just five minutes away, he wouldn’t have much to do.

  Focusing on Dylan, she muttered, “Let’s go.”

  Trying to figure out how to explain, he followed her out of the bar and up the stairs to her apartment. Things were coming to a head a little sooner than he’d planned, and definitely not in the way he’d planned. Cat was already tense and upset. He just hoped he wasn’t about to make things much, much worse.

  “You lied to me about the motorcycle not running,” she said as soon as they entered her apartment.

  Kicking the door shut behind him, he nodded. “Yeah.”

  She crossed her arms. “Why?”

  He thought it over, wondered what to say, then finally realized nothing would do but the truth. The whole, entire, lame-ass truth.

  So that’s exactly what he told her.

  10

  HE WASN’T a homeless musician. HE wasn’t a starving songwriter. He didn’t ride a Harley and he didn’t usually wear scruffy jeans and hard-rock-band T-shirts. He didn’t live a carefree life and he didn’t like to travel the world, being tied down to nothing and answerable to no one.

  If she were just meeting him, Spence would be the man of her mature, grown-up Catherine Sheehan dreams. But she hadn’t just met him. And she was still just Cat.

  “You lying son of a bitch.”

  Spence’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t speak up in his own defense.

  “You mean to tell me you have a car parked down the block? And you own a house in Tremont?”

  “Yes.”

  “You…you’re a software engineer of all things?”

  He shoved his hands into his jean pockets. Through the thin, worn fabric, she could see them curling into fists. “Yes.”

  Still not quite believing it, Cat just shook her head, then slowly lowered herself onto her sofa, pulling her legs up in front of her. Wrapping her arms around them, she stared at him, trying to make sense of it all.

  He’d faked being some broke, starving musician, living here and working like a dog for weeks. All the while, he’d had a house in what Cat knew was one of the priciest areas around. “Were you just playing a twisted game with me?”

  “No game. You needed help. And I wanted to give it to you.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You let me think you were some kind of unemployed laborer looking for work.”