Bewitched. Lori Foster

At first, all Harry’d wanted to do was give it away. But Dalton convinced Harry to accept his father’s legacy, to acknowledge and use the one thing his father had been capable of sharing.

      He didn’t discuss his father with anyone but Dalton, certainly not with a woman he’d only known a day, a woman who seemed to take pleasure in pricking him, both his mind and his body. “You’re an irritant, Charlie. Now would you like to give me directions or should I try guessing?”

      “Go to the corner of Fifth and Elm. You can see my bar from there. It’s called the Lucky Goose. There’s a big sign hanging out front, painted in lime green.”

      That description alone was enough to make his stomach queasy. “You must be joking.”

      “Nope.” She sent him an impish smile and added, “Lime is the dominant shade in our decorating scheme. Not too long ago, I had to replace several things, and I found a lot of stuff at an auction, real cheap.”

      “Whenever something is ‘real cheap,’ there’s usually a viable reason why.”

      She laughed. “You’re right about that. The lime is almost enough to make you toss your breakfast, especially with so much of it. But the men who frequent my bar aren’t out for the fashionable ambiance. They’re there to drown their supposed woes, and as long as they have a stool to sit on and a glass in front of them, they can forgive anything else. And to be real honest with you, the color’s kind of grown on me. I figure if I ever get far enough ahead, I’ll add some black accent pieces. That’d look good, don’t you think? Sort of classy? Black and lime?”

      Harry shuddered with the image. I’ll tell Dalton how witty Charlie is, how spunky, how energetic. I’ll simply leave out her appalling lack of taste. When she continued to stare at him, waiting for his response, Harry forced a smile. “Yes, charming.”

      She beamed at him.

      “Tell me about your sister.”

      “What about her?”

      “I don’t know. Anything, everything. Does she help you in the bar, things like that.”

      Charlie turned to look out the window. “Jillian just turned eighteen. She’s beautiful, so intelligent she scares me sometimes, sweet, giving. She’s also naive and a worrier.” Charlie turned back to face him, her expression earnest. “And no, I would never let her work in the bar. That’s why I need the money so she can go to college. She’s gotten some partial academic scholarships, but not enough to foot the whole bill. If I left it up to her, she’d put off going for a year and save the difference herself, and even then, she’d have to settle for a less expensive college, and she’d lose the partial scholarships. I don’t want her to have to do that. She’s worked too hard all these years, keeping her grade average up, excelling in all her classes. She deserves the best, and one way or another, she’s going to have it.”

      It was that one way or another that had Harry worried.

      They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence. The late moon was partially hidden by clouds, not a star in sight. The near empty roads were still wet and the tires made a slick hissing sound that could lull a turbulent mind.

      And then that damn glaring green sign jumped out at him. Charlie hadn’t told him it was framed with a neon green gaslight. The color was so bold, it seemed to throb in nauseating waves through the darkness. Cautiously, surveying the area, Harry pulled up to the curb. He swallowed hard, not wanting to ask but knowing he had to. “So, this is the bar. But where do you live?”

      “Upstairs.” She unhooked her seat belt. “When I bought the place, the second floor was empty, so I converted it into an apartment. My mother was already sick then, so I needed to work close to her and Jillian. The setup is great, though I wasn’t crazy about having Jillian at a bar. But the stairs leading up are just inside the door, so Jillian doesn’t have to come all the way into the bar unless she wants to. There’s a door at both the bottom and top of the stairs, and they’re kept locked. Only Jillian and I have keys. Anybody I see messing around with the door gets tossed out and isn’t welcomed back. Since the Lucky Goose is so popular, nobody wants to test me on it.”

      That strange tenderness swelled in his chest again, making him warm and fidgety. “You’re a real tough guy, aren’t you, Charlie?”

      He said it softly, working the words out around the lump in his throat, but she took him literally. She shoved the door open and climbed out. “I have to be.”

      She looked surprised when he turned off the engine, stepped out, and activated his car alarm.

      “What do you think you’re doing?”

      Harry grinned. “A gentleman always sees a lady to her door.”

      She looked nearly frantic with consternation. “I’ll agree you’re a gentleman, Harry, but I’m hardly a lady. You can save your gallantry for someone who’ll appreciate it. I don’t need to be seen anywhere.”

      Her denials made that strange tenderness more acute, almost like a pain. She was so used to taking care of herself, with no help at all. She was a small woman, but she gave the impression of being an amazon with her stubborn, forceful attitude. It hurt to think of all she’d been through before perfecting that attitude.

      Shaking off the feeling, Harry took her arm and began ushering her reluctantly forward. “You look more than feminine to me.” Especially since he knew she wore his silk boxers beneath the long shirt. His palms itched with the need to smooth that slippery material over her sweetly rounded bottom. No, no, no. Dalton’s daughter, Dalton’s daughter… He mentally repeated that litany until his heart calmed.

      As they stepped inside the heavy wooden doorway he was met with dim light, cigarette smoke and a low hum of noise. He looked around with feigned casual interest, when in truth, he felt appalled. He cleared his throat. “I’d very much like to get a peek at your establishment, and to meet this paragon sister of yours, if you wouldn’t mind.”

      “You want to meet Jillian?”

      “Is that a problem?”

      “No, it’s just…why?”

      He shrugged, trying to fetch forth a logical excuse that wouldn’t make her more suspicious. So I can describe her to Dalton. “Because she’s your sister, and I’m vastly curious.”

      Charlie looked doubtful, but just then the door to Harry’s left burst open and a tall, slender, very young girl bounded into the hallway. “Charlie!”

      Harry had already thrust Charlie behind him and taken a fighter’s stance. The girl’s eyes widened as she stopped dead in her tracks, one hand lifting to her throat. From behind him, Charlie snickered in a most irritating way.

      And Harry muttered, “Ah, hell.”

      Peeking from around him, Charlie said, “Harry, meet my sister, Jillian. Sis, this is Harry Lonnigan. You’ll have to ignore his chivalry, but you did bust out like a tornado. You see, Harry has these odd heroic tendencies, and he was trying to protect me, in case you were a threat.”

      Harry pulled her around to the front of him and growled, “I am not a hero.”

      “No? Well, Ted or the dogs might disagree. And you saved me from a pager today, remember? And now you just protected me from my sister.” She snickered again, and the sound grated along his raw nerves. “You’re either a hero, or you’re nuts. Take your pick.”

      CHARLIE CONTINUED to smile as Jillian cautiously stepped forward, her eyes huge, staring at Harry with absolute awe. Charlie knew the feeling. It seemed every time she looked at him, he impressed her anew. He was just so…big. And so manly and hard and solid. Despite the fine clothes, the immaculate haircut, Harry Lonnigan had an aura of savagery about him.

      She liked it.

      Harry reached out and gently took Jill’s hand. “Never mind your rather disputatious sister here. She seems to take immense enjoyment in plaguing me for no evident