Page 59 of Undertow

“Scarlett?”

He nods. “Hot, right?”

“I guess.”

I return to wiping down the bar, immediately losing interest.

“You should see her in a bikini. Or better yet, those fancy bras and panties. You know, lingerie and shit?” I give him a look, and he shrugs with a sly smile. “What? A perk of the job. Trust me, she wants us to look. She called that new kid Rayne into the bathroom the other day to hold her towel when she got out of the tub. Poor kid just about shot his pants.”

With a quick eye-roll, I ignore Ben’s snort as he pushes away from the bar to find someone else to annoy. I direct my attention back to the woman, watching as she flutters a fake laugh and flips her hair over her shoulder like she knows how many eyes she just attracted with that sound.

And then her gaze lands on me.

Chills rush through me at her direct stare, but I don’t react to her flirty smile. She arches a brow, and when she floats from the arm of the man she’s with to another standing at a neighboring cocktail table, I can’t shake the feeling that sudden maneuver was for me. Why would she do that? What could possibly interest her about some low-level bartender?

After several minutes of discreet spying, I still can’t tell who she’s here with as she slinks from guest to guest. Her gaze keeps crossing to me for some reason, like she’s making sure she has my attention.

I do my best to ignore it and focus on my work, already bored with the exchange. I’m forced to play enough games. The last thing I want is to play when I don’t have to.

I’ve just served my hundredth G&T of the night when I sense someone’s attention at the end of the bar. Glancing over, I suck in a breath at the intense stare from McArthur’s daughter, now leaning against the smooth surface just a few feet away.

I swallow my discomfort and plaster an agreeable smile on my face.

“Miss McArthur,” I say with a nod. “What can I get you?”

Her slow scan grazes my chest, the rolled-up sleeves on my forearms, then back to my face. My smile falters in the tense silence. I’m not sure what to do next.

“Miss McArthur?” I repeat.

A coy smile slips over her dark red lips as she cocks her head.

“Interesting,” she says in a contemplative tone.

“Excuse me?”

After another quick perusal, she rests her elbows on the bar. “Typically, people getlessattractive the closer you look.”

My heart rate picks up at her heated stare. She’s openly flirting with me? Again, why would the McArthur princess waste her time on some organizational nobody?

“Yes, well,typicallyalcohol can make anyone attractive,” I say dryly. “Can I refill that for you?”

Her smile grows mischievous as she follows my gaze to the empty glass with ice and a used lime.

“Sure,” she says. Her smugness hints at a secret.

Relieved for a distraction, I swipe the glass from in front of her and lift a brow as I wait for her order. She must have brought this from another room, because I haven’t served her tonight.

“Another seltzer with lime, please.” Her smile spreads into a grin. The glint in her eyes is clear. She’s not drunk. This open interest is stone cold sober.

I’m even more confused.

“Of course, miss,” I say with a tight smile and begin working on her drink.

“Shaw, right?” she asks.

I glance up in surprise, my gaze dropping to her lips when her teeth sink in with a tempting nibble. Even though I know she’s playing games, I can’t stop my blood from pounding a little harder.

“Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss McArthur.” I brush my gaze over her face before focusing back on my task. I expect her to correct me and tell me to call her Scarlett or something, but she doesn’t. When I look up again, I see why.

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