The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3)(4)

“Sorry.” Gregg kept his head down as he turned around, avoiding her eyes. He started down the hall. “I’m really busy right now.”

“It’s about the accounts,” Morgan called after him.

That got his attention. He stopped, then slowly turned around. “What about them?”

Morgan took a few steps toward him. “I was just taking a look at them, and there’s some strange things going on.”

“Why were you digging into the accounts? That’s my department.”

Morgan balled her hands and brought them onto her hips. She didn’t see any point of beating around the bush, especially when Gregg used that imperious tone.

“Because there’s been some weird stuff going on around here, and I think I deserve some answers.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Gregg said. The little lines around his mouth twitched as he spoke. Her brother had always been a terrible liar.

“Really? Because I can take you into my office right now and show you if you like.”

Gregg looked down at his feet as he shook his head. “I really don’t have time for that, Morgan. I have somewhere I have to be. We can talk about this later.”

“Where are you going?” she asked in exasperation as he started walking away again.

“Out.”

“This has to do with those men you’ve been hanging out with, doesn’t it? Are you meeting them now? Who are they?”

“Don’t worry about it, Morgan. I’ve got it all under control,” he said as he reached the back door. “We’ll talk when I get back. I promise.”

Yeah, right.

Morgan threw her hands up in exasperation as the back door swung closed behind him.

She didn’t need this. She had enough trouble as it was.

Johnny, the club’s most popular bartender, hadn’t come in last night. Morgan had called every number she had for him, but he didn’t pick up. Now it was only six hours until they opened on a Friday night and they were still down a man.

Johnny may have been a flaky jerk, but he was a damned good bartender. The crowd loved him, and, as much as Morgan hated to admit it, they’d barely made it through last night without him. There was no way they’d be able to handle the weekend crowd unless she found one hell of a replacement, and quick.

On top of that, she still needed to take care of all the everyday tasks—the inventory, the ordering, the payroll.

Morgan let out a sigh that echoed down the long, empty hallway.

Well, none of it would get done if she stood around wringing her hands over her brother’s stupidity. She still had a business to run.

Besides, maybe immersing herself in work would take her mind off things. It was hard to drown in worry when her hands were busy.

Morgan ducked back into her office, grabbed her laptop, and walked through the swinging door behind the largest of the club’s three bars.

Morgan was deep into counting bottles when the front door of the club swung open a few minutes later. She popped up from behind the mahogany bar and squinted into the bright blast of light from the street outside.

“We’re not open yet,” she said, lifting a hand to shield her eyes.

“I’m not here for a drink,” a smooth male voice said.

A tall shadowy figure stepped inside. In the dim light of the windowless club, Morgan couldn’t discern his features. All she could make out was his form, tall and lean. His shoulders were straight, his head held high, his gait confident.

He might not want a drink, but he definitely wanted something.

Morgan slid her hand beneath the bar, feeling for the wooden baseball bat they kept there, just in case they didn’t see eye to eye on what that something was.

“Then what can I do for you?” Morgan asked.

“I’m here for the bartender job.”

Morgan’s brows pulled together. “How did you know we needed a bartender?”

“I’m a friend of Johnny’s.” The mystery man took another step, moving into a pool of golden light from the fixture above.

Morgan’s mouth fell open for a second before she caught herself. She closed her jaw with a hard snap.

Well, he certainly did have the look. His short black hair contrasted sharply with his light skin. A dusting of stubble lined his jaw and upper lip. Dark brows cut just above his grey-green eyes. Standing tall in his jeans and nicely cut suit jacket, he would certainly fit right in at Kincaid’s.

Who was she kidding? The women would eat him up. Morgan wouldn’t blame them. Whoever this guy was, he was damned tasty.

Still, something gave her pause.

“You’re a friend of Johnny’s?” She didn’t bother hiding her skepticism. Johnny might have been a decent bartender, but he was still a kid. One look and Morgan could tell that this guy was in a whole other league.

He tilted his head and flashed her a sly smile. Morgan felt her heart kick up a few beats.

Morgan thought she’d become used to this kind of practiced charm after nearly a year of running a nightclub. But this guy was good. Real good. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t buying what he was selling. She still appreciated the effort.

“Maybe friend isn’t the right word,” the guy clarified. “We used to work together. He called me this morning to tell me you had an opening.”