Page 3 of The Reluctant Billionaire

By now, Jace was the only one sitting at the bar. Nessa turned away from him, plucking a couple of bottles off the shelf. “No Southern drawl. I make a mean Georgia Peach, though.”

She deftly poured peach schnapps, vodka, grenadine, and cranberry juice into a shaker with crushed ice, shook it up swiftly, and poured it into a tall glass, topping it off with lemonade and a maraschino cherry speared on a tiny plastic sword. “Give that a try.”

His water glass was empty, Jace realized as she swept it from in front of him and replaced it with the cocktail. He didn’t even remember draining it.

“Thanks.” He took a sip, sighing with pleasure as the tart but sweet taste exploded over his tongue. “Ohhh. Oh, that’s perfection.”

Nessa smiled, turning to rinse her shaker out. “You’re welcome. Got your card there?”

“Sure.” He fished it out of his pocket, sliding it across the bar as she returned with a card reader.

Nessa swiped the card without looking at it, blinking as the reader immediately gave her a green light. “What--oh, this is a comp card.” She handed it back with a curious look. “Are you staying at the main resort?”

“No, in one of the villas. It belongs to a friend.” Jace took another long drink. “This really is exactly what I wanted. How did you know?”

“I’m psychic. Every good bartender is, don’t ya know.” Nessa flashed him a grin.

“I’ve heard that before. Half the ones I met in New York seemed to be studying psychiatry or psychology; they were pretty good mind-readers.”

Nessa’s smile was rather wry. “Psychiatry. Got my doctorate three years ago.”

“Really?” He blinked at her. “Uh…”

“You’re wondering why I’m still tending bar rather than earning a fortune in practice somewhere, right? I don’t need to be a mind-reader to figure that one out. Almost everyone who knows I’ve got my doctorate has asked me the question at some point.”

“Well, yeah.” She was as sharp as she was beautiful, Jace found himself thinking, propping his elbows on the bar and listening in fascination as she spoke.

“I practiced for a year and realized I’d made a huge mistake.” Nessa shrugged, leaning back against one of the low refrigerators behind her, arms folded over her chest. “Being responsible for other people’s mental health is a massive burden, and one I was never really ready to take on.”

“You lost a patient?” Jace guessed astutely.

“I lost a whole bunch of them. I was the junior staff psychiatrist at Wacol detention center in Brisbane. There was a prison riot.” Nessa’s eyes went dark and distant. “Four dead, all patients I’d seen in the previous month. Five more transferred to maximum security jails elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” Jace said quietly, knowing the sentiment was inadequate. Knowing she’d always blame herself, wonder if she could have seen it coming, could have done something to prevent it. “That must have been very difficult.”

“As far as I was concerned, it was career-ending.” Nessa picked up a clean glass and a cloth, and started polishing it unnecessarily. “I could have gone back, but I didn’t want to. I tended bar throughout my degree and honestly I loved it. I went back to it permanently and decided to make it my career for good. Luke headhunted me for the resort about a year ago, and I never want to leave.” She set the glass back into the rack of clean ones with a small smile. “So now I just dispense gentle advice and excellent drinks to people who are usually trying to relax anyway.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Jace lifted his near-empty glass to her, thinking as he did so he almost envied Nessa her confidence, her surety she was now on the right path, even if it might not be the one she’d directed so much of her life to following. “Can I buy you one?” he offered on impulse.

“Thank you, but I don’t drink on duty and I’m comped as much free soda as I can drink.” Nessa shook her head at him with a smile, wondering as she did so why she’d told him so much of her story. She didn’t usually open up to people this way on first meeting. There was something about Jace, though, something in his light blue eyes which made her think he would be a difficult person to lie to. “Another one of those?” She nodded at his glass.

“Better not, I haven’t eaten for a few hours and I haven’t had alcohol in a few weeks. I’ll be all over the place.”

“Drying out?”

“I’ve been ill, actually. Pneumonia.”

Nessa nodded. She’d suspected something of the sort from the way his clothes hung a little on his frame, the gauntness of his cheeks, and the sallow tint to his skin. “Sunfish is a great place for recovery,” she said. “Warm weather, great atmosphere. You staying long?”

Jace didn’t detect any nosiness in the question; just natural curiosity. “Couple weeks, probably,” he replied. “Maybe I’ll see you around again.”

“I’ll be here.” She tossed him a smile. “This is my bar. Eleven ‘til seven, every day.”

“You don’t get any days off?” That didn’t seem right. He’d have to speak to Luke about that; the staff needed personal time--

“Of course I do. It varies which ones, though. Depends on when I can get someone to cover.”

“I see.” He played with his empty glass, picking up the cherry and eating it before some impulse made him say, “Since you finish at seven, would you maybe care to have dinner with me?”

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